Tonight, I decided to treat the family to dinner from our favorite Chinese restaurant. Since I’m an indulgent father, when Boo asked if we could get ice cream for dessert, we stopped at the ice cream parlor before picking up dinner.  As we waited in line with our selection, the family in front of us, consisting of grandma and grandma, son/father, and two little girls, was getting ice cream cones.  The grandmother noticed Boo holding our pint of ice cream and came over to tell him how cute he was.  The lady was obviously well into her second childhood, as evidenced by the way she spoke and her slight tremor.  As she gushed over Boo, she reached out and caressed his cheek.  Boo was all smiles and politeness, so there must be a bit of his mother in him after all, but while I kept my smile and polite manner, I put my hand on Boo’s head and moved in a tad closer in case something bad happened.

But it didn’t.

The son/father of the group noticed what his mother was doing, and came over to get her.  As he led her back to their family, he mouthed “Sorry!” to me, which got a “No problem!” response from me.  She was just being a kindly old woman, and obviously either Boo reminded her of someone from her past, or she was just taken aback with my son.*

Now, could that have been much worse?  Yes.  That sweet old lady could have turned violent, or refused to get away from my son when her son tried to bring her back to her own family.  That was the reason that I put myself physically in the middle of her contact with Boo.  If she had continued to touch him or had fought her son, then I would have pulled Boo behind me and out of her reach and figured out what to do next.

Did I take a risk in the situation?  Actually, yes.  But I made a rational judgement about the nature of the risk based on how she was acting, her physical appearance, and her demeanor to decide the appropriate response.

In short, I profiled her.  We do this, or rather we should do this, in every interaction in our lives.  Mostly we do it subconsciously.  Being approached by a friend who is smiling?  No problem.  Being approached by an unknown teenager wearing a hooded sweatshirt on a dark street?  Normally, you’d become more aware of what he is doing and what else is happening around you.  The trick is to be aware of your surroundings and THINK when you’re interacting with a person you don’t know.  This is one of the places where we as individuals are superior to government agents such as police.  If a policeman is accused of “profiling”, then she’s in hot water.  If I do it, I’m being a thoughtful father.

If instead of an elderly grandmother, it had been a single male who reached out to touch my son, my response would have been much more direct.  A woman without children would also have evoked a protective response.  A woman with children would be one of those “How does this feel?” moments where I can’t predict my response, but I would have responded.

My point is that we have to be able to respond appropriately to what happens to us and the people who interact with us.  I won’t react to a friendly approach from a grandmother in the same way I would if a gangbanger walked up to my four-year-old son, I think that’s appropriate.

*I’m told men of my family have that effect on women.

Text of the letter I just mailed off.  The names have been changed to keep me from being targeted for even more pleas for funds.

To – Alumni Association, Somewhere High School, Bay Area, California
From – Daddy J. Bear

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I recently received your letter detailing the plan you all have to help refurbish some areas of the school I attended for the last year and a half of my high school education and endow a small scholarship for a graduate of the school to study “subjects that encourage world peace and harmony”.  While I find it honorable that y’all wish to give back to the school, I will have to decline.

I find it rather humorous that, 23 years after I graduated from Somewhere High and almost 25 years since I arrived at the school, you all need a bit of money for a project or two, and you come to me for some of it.  I had almost hoped that my name had been stricken from the rolls, since I have never signed up for your newsletters or tried to attend any of the reunions you all have held.

But as for my reasons for declining, you see, of the approximately 3500 students attending Somewhere High for the 18 months I was there, approximately 17 ever spoke more than a couple of words to me, and at least half of those were of the “Did you do the homework?” variety.   One of them was the native Californian football player, whose parents also attended Somewhere High, who repeatedly asked if I enjoyed having carnal relations with the farm animals in my native North Dakota and if that was the reason my family had to move to the garden spot that is the extreme eastern edge of the Bay Area.  Another was the president of our senior class, who upon being informed that I had decided to not attend Cal State and instead entered the armed forces, told me that I was giving up my future and that I was going off to be a “jack-booted oppressor” before telling that she couldn’t stomach the thought of me learning to kill.  I noted with some amusement that these two individuals head up the committee that is doing this work.

But to be honest, nothing the students did could top what my English and History teachers said to me in the week prior to graduation.  Both of them used the fact that I was going off to become a member of the Military Intelligence Corps as an excuse to list out the many atrocities I would be committing once I was a full-fledged member of the CIA.  Apparently they knew even less about M.I. than I did, but what can you expect from people who had lived their entire lives in Somewhere, California?

Anyway, I wish you all luck.  In closing, I’d appreciate it if my name and address could be removed from your database.

Sincerely,

Daddy J. Bear
Somewhere High School
Class of 1989

I’m in a room with 7 large blowup jumpy playsets and about 20 4 year olds who have had way too much ice cream and cake. Please alcohol and evac.

Thanks to Borepatch for the heads up on this.

TinCan Assassin has been medevaced to a hospital for a possible heart attack.  Please keep him and his family in your prayers tonight.

Saw this over at OldNFO‘s place.  Looks like I’ve set foot in about 15% of the countries on earth. Most of them are the standard “I was stationed overseas” destinations.

Today is the anniversary of the duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, in which Vice President Burr shot former Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton, who later died.  The duel was over some remarks that Hamilton may have made about Burr.  Repeated correspondence between the two did not settle the manner, so pistols were used to end it.

Dueling has fallen away from popular culture for the most part, but would our society benefit from its return?  Would a ritualized confrontation between two people, one of whom is expressing a grievance and another who is denying it, lead to more efficient problem resolution?

Let’s assume for a moment that dueling would be the last resort for gaining satisfaction for the aggrieved party.  Maybe you have to go through a sequence of asking for an apology or restitution, then go through the courts, and then you can ask to be met on the field of honor.  Possibly the things for which a duel could be demanded could be limited so that young men and women aren’t shooting, slashing, or stabbing each other with too high a frequency.

Would politicians do stupid and illegal things if they knew that the people they were hurting could demand satisfaction at dawn using knobkerries?  Could the shrieking classes on both side of the political aisle survive if those they were shrieking about could walk up, slap them across the face, and invite them to hash it out with sabres in front of the cameras?

My gut tells me things would get a lot better once folks figured out that being a lying, cheating, insulting twit could get you hurt in a rather sticky manner.

What say you all?