The High Road

Gosh, I tried. I really did. Based on all the huge discussion going on over on the Block Island Blog over the last week or so, I thought "Hey, Warbler, put your money where your mouth is...try a little tenderness." After I finished singing my much needed song cue, I did try. I drove as I expect others to drive. I got over on the shoulder to let the jerk who was six inches off my bumper go round - I even shrugged it off when they craned their heads to stare at me like "What's wrong with this broad?" I passed safely and waved thanks to bicyclists who actually went out of their way to cooperate and share the road. And just when I thought "Hey, I might be able to do this after all", I got behind the little truck with the two guys passing a doob and weaving all over the road. Then I got behind the group of twenty something girls who hadn't ridden bikes in over ten years pedaling so slowly that they couldn't even keep their bikes in ONE lane...but the kicker, and here's where this post starts differing from the BIB (and don't you love the bylines we're giving each other these days?)...driving by the Spring House I see a couple stopped on the sidewalk, each holding a little girls hands as she wails at the top of her lungs. The (much older) father is leaning over her, obviously to speak comforting and calming words and I slow down to see if I need to offer any assistance (I had a cold Key Lime Soda in the car, I could have applied it to any big goose eggs) when I caught an earful of the father yelling "You! You! You! You always think it's about you! You're so selfish!" Now, folks, this little girl couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old and she's screaming in a way that could only be called anguished. I was ashamed for the man. She's 6 years old, you SOB! Of course she's selfish! God! And obviously you're taking this moment to teach her all about being a giving and compassionate person, eh? Sure, I lose my temper and sometimes speak harshly, too. And who knows? Maybe she's a brat extraordinaire and they had been dealing with some extreme crankiness - but she's a kid for [insert chosen expletive here] sake.

And then something even more shocking happened. I drove on. Partly because I have promised my husband that I will stop getting involved - uninvited - in other people's business (and I have also had to promise I will stop shouting out the window. I never, ever, used to experience road rage until I moved to BI) unless it is a life, limb or safety issue. The other part is that I didn't want to cause a huge thing in front of my children. Here was an opportunity to show my extremely 13 year old what it might mean in the life of a child if someone were to intervene on their behalf and I drove on. Fear for my own safety, I think was the motivating factor. And that's not okay by me. After all my family members have been put through from people who looked the other way while my daughter was being treated cruelly by her biological mother and I might have just possibly done the same thing?

I can still see this poor little girl's face. The "oh, God, please stop yelling at me, please!" face. The one that is usually reserved for "Stop yelling at me, you moron" adolescents who know more than you and think everything is a huge melodrama. She was too young to know that face. If she's a brat, folks, there's a reason (yeah, yeah, sometimes there's good parents with bad kids, sometimes vice versa and sometimes everybody involved is just having a bad day). If she's wonderful, there's a reason. All children (with a few Dahmer-esque exceptions) are born good, wonderful people. And all children are selfish, it's part of survival. It is the role of the parent to teach, not to humiliate. The world will do enough of that all her life.

The mother? Standing silently, looking the other way, completely uninvolved in the whole thing.

So, folks, today...shame on me. I did not take the high road. I only talked about it.

Going Postal

So...if lunchtime is the busiest time of the day for the post office (or one of them, at least) and this can be discerned somewhat by the number of cars lined up in the driveway waiting for parking spots, and the line inside the post office seems to commonly be twelve people deep...and there are two people in back sorting mail (which, I agree, is at least a two person job) and only one person on the desk, wouldn't it make sense to put two people on the desk just from, say, 11:30 am to 1:00 p.m.?

I keep opting not to park in the church parking lot...mainly because there's a sign that asks me not to and, try as I could, I could not find any fine print that said: unless you're a Block Island resident, a registered church member, or somebody in a hurry. So I sit in line with the rest of the Connecticuts, Massachusetts and New Yorks because my husband comes home for lunch and it's easier for me to run to the post office and Depot without the baby (makes carrying milk and the mail a little easier, at least). I always check to see who's parked in the handicapped spot...very rarely do I ever see the little thingy hanging from their rearview mirror or on their license plate. Once I did see a wheelchair placard hanging from the rearview mirror, but the elderly driver was sitting in the driver's seat waiting for her teen-aged grandson or great-grandson to come out with her mail...Anyway, we all know that there's almost always that person who parks there because they're only going to be a minute...while everybody else intends to have lunch there or what? And there's the white truck - don't know if it's the same white truck - that twice this week now has parked parallel to the curb three feet east of the outside mail box. Besides illegal, it's also stupid. I'm not 100% positive, but I could have sworn the dent in the back right side of the truck that I saw when I exited the post office wasn't there when I entered. And, of course, there's the people who park in any spot that doesn't say 15 minute parking only and get out to go to Ballard's, or the breakfast joint, or shopping in town, etc. But what 'cha gonna do, right?

My personal favorite today was the cute young thing who was standing evenly with the sign in the post office that says "please refrain from cell phone use while inside the post office" as she chatted away on her cell phone about whether or not she was going to have a bagel. Listen, if I want to listen to some adolescent have boring conversation on a phone, I'll stay home, okay?

That's one of the few things I look forward to in regards of my move. I will receive my mail directly at my door and in the summer, I will still receive my mail directly at my door. Then again, I won't get the chance to catch up with anybody. Then again then again, I won't know anybody to need the chance to catch up.

*sigh*