Mentality
Charming vs Cheap
Early colonists left formidable footprints in New England’s small towns. The winding roads, the mix of Victorian, Tudor, and Cape houses all on one block. The streets lined with lanterns, the town squares with benches under big trees. And my favorite, the handmade wooden signs on mom-and-pop storefronts. The local cafe, with its owner and baker unlocking the doors every morning at 4, to start baking fresh muffins and bread. The hardware store, where the owner knows exactly how to help you. The bar where, dare I use the cliche, everybody knows your name. Store fronts are all different, but share an authenticity that can only come from repeated cylces of weather-wear and hand repair.
New England is charm, defined.
Moving to Georgia, I discovered a world where groceries don’t break the bank, home furnishings and kitchen wares can be scooped up within the barest of budgets, and filling my gas tank doesn’t mean draining my wallet.
There’s a price to pay for paying low prices.
There’s no personality. I’m missing the local Royal Pastry shop, where the owner knows I’ve been coming in for her giant M&M cookies since I was four years old. The Brewed Awakenings cafe, where the owner pours my cup himself, and he knows to put soymilk in it. The bar where I say nothing but “Hello!” and my preferred beverage is mixed, shaken, and placed on the bar, before I’ve even removed my coat. The bank tellers all know my name, and so I’m never ID’d. The pharmacy cashier frequents the same bar, and so we chat while she rings up my purchases. The dentist heard I lost my job, and he knocked $50 off my x-rays. That’s small town at its best.
Here in Atlanta, sure I can get cheap paper goods in bulk at Target, but the owner of the convenience store I used back in Boston was my neighbor. The big, national bank I use here (the only bank in reasonable distance from my home) must card me every time I come. They serve many people, covering a large area, and they have countless employees. Surely, no one could remember the face the 100th person today to make a deposit. As I drive to visit my new friends here, I pass one Target, Home Depot, or Waffle House after another. I cannot count the chain restaurants here. A stone’s throw in any direction will hit a Burger King, Arby’s, Taco Bell, etc. I’d never been in a Taco Bell before, and I’d never even seen an Arby’s. There’s no Walmart where I come from, and I like it that way. Here in the land of corporate take-overs, there’s a national chain for every product or service you might need. But no local charm. No knowledgeable handy-man working the plumbing aisle of the hardware store that bears his own family name. No one knows the ingredients in the goods sold at the bakery, because no one who works there makes them. Even the restaurants and bars that masquerade as independents, are actually part of a conglomerate that brands its locations as single units.
In tough economic times (rapidly becoming an overused phrase) saving money is great. Losing personality, charm, authenticity, and connections to our brave ancestors is not. Can we have the best of both worlds? Maybe 2010 will tell. In the meantime, I continue to question the word home. This is my new home, but home will always be New England. Next time I’m there, a stroll through the North End, a drive through scenic Lexington and Concord, a trek up to New Hampshire, and a visit to Royal Pastry for an M&M cookie, will reassure me that handmade and personal is always worth the price.
Little Green Lies
In response to news of hackers accessing documents and email from the Climatic Research Unit at theUniversity of East Anglia, England,
Will Al Gore’s Oscar be taken back?
In all seriousness, his points were disputed at the time, but naysayers could get no respect. Mainstream media folk couldn’t wrap their heads around Gore’s being wrong, nor could the champions of the environmental cause fathom their efforts might be in vain. Heaven forbid anyone suggest that Mother Nature or God or Allah or fate or destiny might be just a tad more powerful than we mere mortals. Our climate is changing all the time, as it did prior to the industrial revolution. Forget the global warm-up following the little ice age, forget that the 1940s through 1970s were a tremendous cooling, bound to end at some point, forget that this planet has had measurable high periods and low periods, times of great weather disturbance and times of climatic calm, forget history and details and truth. Those points are all too boring; they don’t sell well; they don’t incite better treatment of our planet.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve gone green with the best of them. In many ways, I already was. I walk everywhere I can, or take public transportation. I turn out lights, unplug appliances, open the fridge door just once to take everything out or put everything back. I light candles, keep the heat low, seal my windows, wear extra layers, and use half-sheet paper towels. Don’t get my family or former roommates started on my ruthless recycling. I’m on an energy star computer, which goes nicely with my energy star printer, tv, dvd player, and lamps. I reduce, reuse, recycle, and even call junk-mail producers to have them remove my name from their lists. (All those AmEx “preapproved” offers kill trees faster than kudzo.)
I’m not suggesting we stop finding alternatives to our habitually wasteful ways. I am suggesting the fear-mongers zip their traps. They’re unconfident that they can inspire care for our planet on the principle it’s a good idea – doing good hardly spreads like a cool, new pop tune. But to take the fear-instilling approach, based wholly on false and inflamed ‘data’ is to tell the population of the planet a huge, compost heap of green lies. Lying to get what you want, in this case Earth-friendly behavior, is usually a great way to make sure no one ever believes you again (if they listen to you again at all). Why not have some faith and conviction in the idea that gong green is great for our wallets and our planet? Why not try selling the lifestyle on its actual merit, and resist the urge to give the public more reason to distrust scientists and the government?
If this green-going-gang would put a recycled newspaper in it, they’d emit less carbon. Isn’t that what we’re all after anyway?
Blue Staters vs Red Staters
Growing up in Massachusetts and attending public schools, I certainly know a thing or two about life in a Blue State. I went to a private university in a Purple State (Swing State), where I was a student during my first presidential election as a voter. I’m now living in Georgia - still Red, for now. There are countless traits, beliefs, habits, and even mannerisms that define liberals and conservatives. From the stereotypes, like pro-choice liberals, to the surprises, like gay Christians, I have often felt there is one defining quality of each side’s mannerisms that is unavoidable and inarguable. Conservatives have a nice attitude; liberals have a nasty attitude.
As I’ve said before, I’m a registered Independent. This isn’t about the politicians; rather, it’s about their cheering section. Similarly, I haven’t met any Pittsburgh Steelers players. I mean no insult to them, but their fans are annoying. Seriously, a towel is not terrible. It won’t harm anyone. It does not make you tough or intimidating.
In social situations, conservatives rarely identify themselves as registered Republicans. They don’t announce their political views, nor do they ask for yours. They don’t criticize or join in political conversations. They don’t tend to care what you believe, or at least they don’t make an issue of it if they disagree.
Liberals, on the other hand, are notoriously aggressive. The liberals in my life from early grade school, through high school and college, to my staff and clients, have all shared that personality trait. They’re in your face. They need to tell you what they believe, that their view is correct, and they demand that you respond. If you agree, surprisingly, they get more animated. Are they hoping that together you’ll start a riot? If you disagree, they rip you apart, dis you and your family, and tell anyone they know that you are not an equal. We live in a free country, thankfully, and it’s nothing new to state that with that freedom must come a patient acceptance of everyone else’s freedom. I’m never one to cast blanket statements on whole groups of people, but I honestly cannot think of a demure, mild-mannered liberal in my life. And there are lots of liberals in my life. This idea of political personalities came up when I went out this past weekend in Atlanta. One of the new people I’ve met here put to words what I’ve been thinking for some time: “Liberals are rude.” For all their preaching of diversity and tolerance, acceptance and equality, they truly cannot tolerate those whose opinions differ from their own. They truly believe that liberals and conservatives are not equal. Liberals are superior, and the inferiors must be weeded out. It enrages me.
When election time rolls around, I get countless emails and phone calls from the left. These people aren’t asking me if I need any information before casting my vote; no, they’re telling me how to vote. They tell me whom to choose, which way to vote on ballot questions, and ask me to pass the message on. Ever been into a department store and had every sales clerk approach you with the same spiel? Ever been asked more than once by the waiter if you would like to order the special? The more someone pushes something in my face, the more I push back. I turn and run from people who don’t respect my independence. As a swing voter, you should be trying to win me, not tick me off. Here’s a tip for the left: BE NICE.
People initially join the bullies to avoid getting bullied. No one wants to be the loser if he can avoid it. In time, more and more levelheaded people band together and the bullies go down. I may be young, but this is a trend that’s not rocket science to observe in daily life and in the longer term political picture. I predict a big loss for Democrats in the coming years. Not the next election, necessarily, but a loss in registered Dems. I see a a growing number of Independents, Libertarians, and other minor parties. The cocky, ego-driven mindset of the liberal left is catching up with them.
Let’s all hope this humbles them, rather than enraging them further.
Please, post comments or email me at owner@purpleplease.net.
I guess this is growing up
I had many long hours in the car to ponder what I’m leaving behind, and what lays ahead. During my drive, I thought a lot about how different my childhood friends and I have become, how many members of my staff back in Boston behaved like preteens, despite being in their 20s, 30s and 40s, and how many of the lessons my parents taught me growing up should be mandatory learning before adults are let out in public. I know that sounds harsh, but the reality is, dealing with the public and a staff of 100, I encounter 100s to a thousand people every day. Many of them lack basic adult skills, like knowing how, when, and whom to ask for help, planning backwards from when they need to be somewhere to when they need to be getting up and leaving home, and even basic eating habits. It shocks me, upsets me, and when voting time comes around it downright frightens me.
So, I give you my list of lowest-level requirements for being an adult:
1 Be able to run at least a few city blocks. You never know when you’ll have to race to catch a bus, train, or plane, keep up with an energized toddler, or escape a would-be attacker. I’m not saying we all have to be Usain Bolt, but a fast couple 100 meters is a basic survival skill.
2 Be able to swim or tread water for 20 minutes. I’m no Michael Phelps; in fact, I am to swimming what a linebacker would be to ballet. But, again, it’s a basic survival skill. If a plane crashes, if a bridge collapses, or there’s an accident and your car flies off the bridge, if you or a loved one is separated from the boat or dock where you started, you need to be able to swim to safety. At the very least, you should be able to tread water until help arrives.
3 Cook! No one has to be Emeril, but anyone with two hands can throw together something edible. Cooking for yourself is good for your wallet and your waistline. By high school age, my parents were certain that my siblings and I could boil water, throw some pasta in, and put chicken in a casserole dish with salad dressing and breadcrumbs on top. It doesn’t have to be gourmet, but basic kitchen knowledge includes knowing to keep the lid on the rice and leave it off the pasta. Potatoes take about an hour in the oven, chicken and pork should be cooked through, beef can be rarer. I am shocked by my friends who don’t own pots or pans, no measuring cups or muffin tins. What would they do without McDonald’s? (Feel and look better, I’m sure)
4 It pains me to put this on the list. Know how to use a vacuum cleaner! Going off to college was eye-opening. I had hallmates who had never swept a floor, never washed a dish, never bought hand soap or toilet paper! These people’s parents did everything for them. Gah! They’re parents should be fired.
5 Understand the host/guest relationship. When you invite people into your home, you expect the kitchen floor to take a beating, the sofa might get a spill on it, and the bathroom will be used more times in a couple hours than in a typical week. However, nothing can prepare you for the shock of adults wandering through your home, into rooms they shouldn’t, and touching everything. Why do people go into my bedroom and pick up my trinkets and personal items?
On the flip side, when invited into someone else’s home, you expect that the bathroom will have soap and a handtowel. You might go out on a limb and feel it’s appropriate to be offered a glass of water. I call these things etiquette; most people call them old-fashioned. Sad.
6 Reading and following directions. In the line at the RMV, I stared for 97 minutes at the sign that reads, “We take cash only, no plastic, no checks.” And sure enough, the guy ahead of me pulls out a credit card and starts to argue that they MUST accept it, because he’s been waiting so long.
Last election, the person ahead of me walking into our polling place was at the wrong polling place. She didn’t understand that people can’t just go to any location and vote. And the person behind me wasn’t a registered voter! How do these people not try to be informed?
Anyone else ever jumped in the express line at the grocery store, only to discover the person ahead has about 25-30 items? It’s not rocket science, folks. And it’s not like you only go once in a while; you’re there every week.
Apologies for rambling and venting, but people really should want to be self-sufficient, aware of what is going on around them, able to find out things they don’t know, and polite to those around them. What will happen when the boomer parents die and their children have to do things on their own? I’m scared.
