Losing Our Humanity

I haven't posted anything on social media about George Floyd and all of the surrounding issues.  And I haven't gone out and protested.  Because I don't believe those methods will effect real change in the world today.  I suppose it's debatable, and if you do, then go for it.  I wish you well.

But it seems to me that this is a problem that requires a personal touch.  I'm all for changing the laws if  you can show me a law that you think will help.  I think the Innocence Project does great work and people should give them money.  And we all need to vote our conscience.  But racism is never going to be voted or regulated out of existence.  I believe people change when shown truth and love.  And I'm not seeing that.

What I see is people dehumanizing each other.  The cops that killed George Floyd, whether due to racism or simply a lack of care, had stopped thinking of him as a human being.  The cops who tear-gassed the peaceful crowds ahead of Trump's photo-op weren't thinking of those people as their fellow human beings.  The looters aren't considering how they're hurting real people.  And the people yelling at and criticizing each other on Facebook aren't stopping to think about how they themselves would like to be talked to.

We're treating each other as ... other.  As less than.  But that person with a different opinion than yours (who may very well be wrong) deserves to be treated better.  They deserve to be treated as a child of God.

We're all doing it, me included.  Probably the lockdown has exacerbated this, as we're all shut away from each other.  But it's been going on and getting worse and worse. 

I've said this before and I believe it to be true: the little things are the big things.  I believe the small acts of kindness have a greater effect in the world than we realize.  A kind word at the right time.  Standing still and listening to someone you find annoying.  An encouraging smile.  Or just holding your tongue.  And then, when appropriate and it's been earned, speaking the truth in love. 

So that's what I'm going to keep trying to do.

Turning Point

I was at a friend’s house for dinner when my life changed forever.  My friend has a wife and three young boys, all of whom are lovely, I’m sure.  But I saw something that night that shook me to my core. 

One of the kids had been playing with his food.  And by playing, I mean wrestling it into bits with his stubby, sticky fingers and stuffing some of it in his mouth.  Some of these bits dropped along the way, some made it into his gaping maw, then somehow flew back out and some he sucked in, blew back out and then gently placed back on his plate.  All of it was drenched with drool and little bits of chewed up corn and mucus and who knows what else.  And yet, when he was full, my friend grabbed the food off of his plate and put it in his own mouth.

I wanted to puke.

If you’re a parent, you probably think this is no big deal.  You probably do it all the time and poo-poo any notions of grossness from those outside of the parental circle.  But I gotta tell ya – that shit is nasty.

And that is the night that I realized that I no longer wanted to be a parent.  Yes, as an unmarried man in my 40’s, I’d already been thinking through the likelihood that parenthood was just not going to happen for me.  Which was a bummer.  I’ve always wanted kids.  In fact, I viewed having children as the greatest adventure that life had to offer.  I still think that.  But I don’t want kids anymore.

I think you need to fall into parenthood before you’re able to see it clearly.  I’m sure younger people have some ideas about the late nights and the spitting up and the poop and the worrying and all the rest.  But they don’t see it clearly.  They’re not in the thick of it.  And if you’ve got baby brain, you’re probably going to focus more on the positives, the cooing and the cuteness and all of that crap.  Those who are already parents feed these delusions, as they realize that misery loves company, and they pitch parenthood like car salesmen trying to meet their end-of-the-month quotas.

But, like I said, I was in my 40’s, and I’m not as emotionally swayed as some people.  And here’s the thing – I kinda like being a bachelor.  Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to find the right woman.  I love being in a relationship.  But, if I’m honest, I have become a bit set in my ways.  A bit self-centered.  A bit of a curmudgeon, even.  And it has become increasingly clear to me that a baby will throw your entire life into upheaval.  With no end.

Just to be clear, that phrase was not ‘with no end in sight’.  It’s ‘with no end’.

I know there are positives.  I’m not going to list them here, and you don’t need to tell me.  And when I was younger, that math made sense.  I was willing to lose the sleep and be grossed out and stay up all night worrying and all the rest. 

But now?  I like to get a good night’s sleep.  I like taking naps.  I like leaving the house with hands that are not carrying strollers and diaper bags.  I like swearing whenever the fuck I want.  I like sitting on my ass watching TV or playing video games.  I like not being interrupted 16,000 times a day.  I like not having to lug 60lbs. of tired toddler from place to place.  I like doing whatever I want whenever I want.  I like not having anyone depend on me.  And I like eating food that has not been in someone else’s mouth.

So that night was the nail in the coffin.  That night, I looked at my friend and his lovely, lovely family and realized I was over it.  From then on, I was able to embrace my bachelorhood and enjoy it more fully.  And I have my friend’s gross kids to thank for that.

Ruined by Gilligan's Island

Oh, Gilligan's Island - that wonderful show!  But it planted little bombs in my head that go off all of the time when I watch other shows.

For example, if I'm watching a show with doctors, I remember the soap opera dream that Gilligan had with young Doctor Young and old Doctor Young.  You'd be surprised how often medical shows have a Doctor Young in them.

If I'm watching any version of Hamlet, I'm remembering the castaways' production of Hamlet, staged to make Harold Hecuba jealous: "Hamlet, Hamlet!  Do be a man, let rotten enough alone!"

But the most insidious is the murder mystery episode.  As each castaway reveals that they had a motive to murder Randolph Blake (he embezzled from Mr. Howell, stole authorship of a scientific paper from the Professor, cheated on Ginger and bankrupted Mary Ann's parents), Gilligan shouts out, "He did it!  He did it!" or "She did it!  She did it!"

And that's what pops into my head every time I watch a murder mystery.  First suspect: 'He did it!  He did it!'  Second suspect: 'She did it!  She did it!'  Familiar character actor as a guest star?  'He did it!  He did it!'

Oh, Gilligan's Island - you will always be with me.  And don't get me started on The Brady Bunch ...