When it’s not really a war

My boss at the first job I had in high school was a member of a Christian sect that does not celebrate holidays. He would very loudly and rudely point out this fact to anyone who innocently wished him a “Merry Christmas.” Suffice to say he was not a very effective ambassador for his faith. It may also be largely because of him that I have such a hard time understanding why anyone would be upset by someone wishing them “Happy Holidays” or something similar. Really, why would you be upset by ANY such greeting if it’s shared in a friendly way?

I have friends who celebrate any number of different holidays at this time of year and I’m happy to accept any greeting they offer, because I try not a jerk like my first boss and because I recognize that whichever holiday I may celebrate is not the only available option.

I do not have a problem with businesses that want to express an inclusive greeting that can be appreciated by all their customers. I do, however, have a problem with anyone who snaps back “Merry Christmas” (or any other greeting) as more of a weapon than as a sincere wish. I think they’re sort of missing the point.

That said, enjoy whichever holiday you celebrate. Or none at all. I’ll do the same.

There. That was easy.

About nice, friendly white supremacists…

I’m of several minds about the controversial New York Times piece on the friendly neighborhood white nationalist racist prick. I recognize that the article did go a long way toward “normalizing” his behavior, though I think it stopped short of being an apologia. That said, I also believe that there is some validity in demonstrating that racist nutjobs can be your neighbors and can seem like “nice people” until you learn what they really stand for. And I think there is a significant part of the population that doesn’t realize this.

I’ve written about Oleene before. She lived right across the street from me and seemed to many people to be a very nice lady, a good Christian, and the kind of person you’d want watching your kids during the day. But as one of the kids she watched, I realized that she was not a nice lady at all. She was horrible. She said things about people of color that make my skin crawl to this day; these were awful, hateful, and — in retrospect — violent things. She was a despicable human being and, despite having known her since childhood, I couldn’t make myself attend her funeral when she died. I used to try to excuse her, but by the time she died, I didn’t feel any sense of loss at all.

But yeah, she seemed like a sweet little Christian lady until she started talking about anyone who was different from her. And ultimately, it wasn’t just people of different races or ethnicities. Not surprisingly, I never quite fit the mold of what she thought a boy should be interested in. I wanted to read and draw and use my imagination and learn things. She constantly pushed me to go outside, pick up a ball, and act like the other boys and stop being so “silly.” She minimized and ridiculed everything that mattered to me. She made me think there was something wrong with me, and I grew to hate her for it. As I’ve also said before, Oleene and the “moral” evangelical hypocrites at Vandalia Christian School are two of the main factors in my transformation from Bible-toting child to atheist adult. Suffice to say, none of these folks provided me with a model that was in any way “Christlike” nor something I could imagine dedicating my life to.

The point here, though, is that she just seemed to blend in with the neighborhood, and I don’t think anyone ever really exposed her or called her on her bullshit (except maybe me, when I hit my rebellious years). She was an evil, hateful person who wrapped her nastiness in a cute wrapper of Christian belief and Southern sweetness. And she’s not alone. In fact, there are a lot of her around. And they, like Tony Hovater, need to be exposed. The Times may not have done so in the best way possible. Someone should.

When I’m 64 (or 74 or 84)…

Ten resolutions for the senior citizen version of me:

  1. I will retain some sense of urgency in my life. When in line at a restaurant or store, I will recognize that even though I may have no schedule or pressing commitments, the people behind me probably do.
  2. I will not retire without having some idea of what I will do with my time. (I don’t think this will be a problem.)
  3. I will enthusiastically purchase a hearing aid when and if I need one. Fuck vanity.
  4. I will not become a racist, right-wing nutjob (i.e. an evangelical Republican).
  5. I will try to avoid ever thinking that 4:45PM is the ideal time for dinner.
  6. I will not discuss my excretory functions with anyone but healthcare providers.
  7. I will have some fucking dignity and not chase after boys in their twenties.
  8. As long as I am able, I will continue to travel alone.
  9. I will continue to appreciate new and interesting music and media, and I will not complain that all culture came to an abrupt end when I was 25.
  10. I will not watch “Wheel of Fortune.”

Feel free to comment on my success (or lack thereof) in ten, twenty, or thirty years.

A fifth of October

Today is my alma mater’s 125th birthday.

It’s also the 25th anniversary of the day I took up residence in San Francisco. In another couple of months, I will also hit the point where I’ve been back on the East Coast as long as I was in California.

Time flies when you’re having fun.

And sometimes even when you’re not.

Fortunately there’s been much more of the former than the latter over the years.

Pigs and pumpkins

I went to the fair for the first time since 2010. We saw the giant pumpkins and the pigs and the assorted cakes that were already past their prime and starting to look a little worse for the wear. We marveled at the “most effective use of a gourd” winner. Many of the youngsters’ art projects had a very encouraging urban feel to them. I made wry comments as we walked past the Republican party booth and the “right to life” booth (which was, of course, staffed only by men) and I had Methodist hot dogs and cobbler. I somehow too no pictures. My “date” won a ribbon for a dress she made. It was nice.

Canada Saturday for the annual Thanksgiving trip. There may or may not be updates from the road here and/or on the various Twitter accounts.