Someone told me a story today. It was one of those stories that, depending on how it is told, can either make you laugh or make you cry. I laughed, because the person telling me the story told it in a way that made us all laugh. But ... inside I was angry and disgusted and wished I could have been there. Wished I could have been there where the story took place so that I could have said the things on my mind when I heard it. So I could have made it clear that, while we laughed at this story, it broke my heart.
She was standing in line at the soda machines at the gas station with her girlfriend. Her girlfriend said something to her and so she responded with a sweet sentiment, "I dunno, hon," or something like that. A woman, maybe in her late 40s, standing nearby, turned and looked - stared at my friend, the story-teller, and her girlfriend. The look on the woman's face made it clear to our couple that the woman was disgusted. She abruptly turned away. The woman went about her business, but then asked (out loud), "Where are the lids to these cups?" My story-teller says she overheard the woman and so offered assistance, nicely, by pointing out where the specific lids were and telling the woman so. The woman turned, acting as though she hadn't heard, and rudely responded, "What?" My storyteller said she repeated to the woman, "There. The lids you're looking for are there." And smiled. The woman then crunched up her 40-something-year-old face and with all the lack of grace and lack of kindness she could muster, she spat the words ... "I don't need your gay help," and turned and walked away.
If I had been there ... I would have stepped right up to that woman who is someone else's child, and said to her ... "Be kind to these children - for they are my children. If I ever run across yours, I will make sure I am kind to them ... you bitch."
Oh Kellan, this one brought 2 things back to me. An incident in Pa with my middle child, my first son, and a neighbor. A hurtful incident for him, an infuriating one for me. I spoke to the offending woman, mother of 2. I even hugged her. Hugged her so tight I put the fear of April in her. And the lack of acknowledgement when my youngest son, dressed in a black metal band promoting t-shirt, black jeans, mohawk would hold the door open for customers going in and out of the shoppette on post. The people who did acknowledge him with a "thank you" where the ones still in uniform, young and old. Some of the mom's thanked him. It was the men in this case, no longer in uniform who gave him dirty looks.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I truly believe that adversity and drama and trauma can and does create character in a person, but ... I also believe that there is enough adversity and drama and trauma in life; it is not right for others to believe they have the right to inflict hatred and meanness on anybody - especially our children! I would have thanked your son and I would have commended him for being kind and courteous and I might not have told him but I would also have been supportive of him for being his own person!!
ReplyDeleteThat particular "holding the door open" child of mine is now wearing the uniform of an airborne infantryman stationed in Italy.
ReplyDeleteAnd ... there you go!!! YAY - good for him - so proud of him!!
ReplyDelete