When Strangers Pick Fights

I try not to engage in any kind of confrontation with strangers. (Frankly, I try not to be contentious even with non-strangers!) It usually serves no purpose other than to make tempers flare.

All of us see and hear things that we find distasteful (or offensive, or harmful) while we're out in public. In general, our best bet is NOT to engage people in arguments. My husband and I both cringe every time we remember hearing a father inform his toddler, "You are no son of mine!" Even three decades later, I am still annoyed by the memory of total strangers who walked up to me and told me that I should not be having children.

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule.

Over two decades ago, I had two daughters in elementary school and an infant son. One day, my son was feeling ill, and it seemed to be getting steadily worse. We phoned his doctor, who, in the absence of an emergency, couldn't see him until almost closing time. After juggling a sick baby with our daughters' after school gymnastics lessons, I made it to the 4:30 appointment. By that time, the baby was feverish, listless and miserable.

We left the office at 5:00 with a prescription, and urging to get it filled as soon as possible, or we'd undoubtedly end up at the emergency room. I don't remember what was wrong - probably bronchitis - but I remember vividly watching him get, very quickly, worse and worse.

My husband, the baby and I picked up our daughters from class at 5:30, and headed straight to Walmart, one of the only pharmacies open after 5:00 p.m. There was no such thing as a 24 hour or drive through pharmacy, at least not in our town, back then. The line at the pharmacy was huge; the pharmacist said, "Yeah, lots of crud going around," when I remarked on it. Due to the volume of customers, she estimated that we had an hour wait to pick up the medication.

We took the children, two of them having simply pulled pants on over their leotards, to McDonald's for dinner, hoping to both fill the time and feed everyone. My son only picked at his food; he was flushed and beginning to wheeze. A trip to the pharmacy window was unproductive - they hadn't gotten to his prescription yet.

We bought and administered some infant Tylenol for the fever, then pushed a cart fairly aimlessly around the store, killing time. Another trip to the pharmacy, and another long line, frayed my nerves. My son's temperature was over 100, and the Tylenol didn't seem to be helping.

Then things got worse - the pharmacy was out of the prescribed medication AND the generic equivalent. "We should be getting a shipment tomorrow." My husband had just taken the baby's temperature - 104. I started getting frantic.

"No, we need it tonight! He's getting worse and worse! Would another Walmart have it?"

"No, we already called around. You'll have to wait until tomorrow, or find another pharmacy."

"But you just said that no other Walmart has it, and all the other pharmacies are closed!" I was picturing a trip to the ER.

"Costco's open. Do you have a membership?"

"Yes! How late are they open?"

"They're open for another 20 minutes."

Of course, Costco was miles away. Luckily, most of them were freeway miles. With luck, we'd get there in time.

We hustled the kids out of the store and into the car. We still had 15 minutes. The baby looked like a wilting flower. In my panic to get to Costco on time, I did something that I never do - I left the shopping cart we'd been pushing him in sitting next to the car.

As the girls were buckling, someone knocked on my window. I expected a panhandler, and prepared to brush them off. I rolled down my window to an irate woman.

"I just watched you get in your car and leave the shopping cart sitting right there!" she said, pointing to the cart.

"I apologize," I said. "I'm in a hurry." I knew that was feeble sounding, but didn't much care.

She was not mollified. "Show some respect! Show some consideration for others!"

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

You know how some people just need to have their say, and once they've said their piece, they calm down? I assumed this woman was one of those people. She was not. She's the kind of person who gets angrier and angrier, the longer she talks. She ramped it up, expressing extreme displeasure at length, and with increasing volume. She informed me, repeatedly, that I was setting a bad example for my children. That wasn't what really bothered her, though. "People like you are the reason we can't even take our car out of our garage!" She proceeded to tell me the brand of her car, and quote its price, which was more than we paid for our first home. "Not everybody drives a piece of s*** like you do! And we can't even enjoy driving it, because of people like you! If I were to take it out, it would get covered in dents and scratches!"

The next thing out of her mouth was, "I have been nothing but nice to you..."

Hold it right there.

I did something I normally don't do. I interrupted, loudly.

"HEY! Criticizing someone's belongings is not being 'nothing but nice'! Swearing at me, especially in front of my kids, is not being 'nothing but nice'!" I had been quiet and deferential, but now I was loud and angry.

"When I walked out here, I had 15 minutes to get across town to the only pharmacy still open at this hour so that I can get medicine for my baby with the 104 degree fever! And you've kept me here talking to you!" I exaggeratedly started the car. In a voice dripping with sarcasm, I said, "Can I go now?" Yes, I know the correct usage is "may I." It didn't matter; I was going to pull out no matter what she said next.

She looked stunned, as if I'd slapped her. I don't think it had occurred to her 1. that someone who shopped at Walmart and drove "a piece of s***" could actually string together a sentence, 2. that I might have something on my mind and agenda more important than scratches on anybody's car, and 3. that yes, indeed, it is rude to swear at people and criticize their belongings. For the first time during the encounter, she lowered her volume and took a step backwards. "Well - I still think you're being a bad example for your children."

"So you said. Can I go now?" I said, putting the car in gear, in a voice that indicated that I was leaving.

"Yeah. Sure."

More sarcasm - "Thank you."

I dislike speed. I dislike speeding. But I practically zoomed out of the parking lot, muttering out loud, "If the pharmacy has closed by the time we get there, I swear... If they are out and we end up at the hospital..." I was incapable of finishing a sentence. My rosy child wheezed in his car seat.

My daughters chimed in. "I don't think you're a bad example, Mom! I think she's a bad example!" "I think her swearing was wrong!"

"Yes, well, all I care about is getting the baby's medicine."

I drove, uncharacteristically, 10 miles over the speed limit. In front of Costco, I practically shoved my husband out the door in front of the store, then parked the car. He dropped off the prescription with 2 minutes to go before closing. In 5 minutes, we had the medicine.

I did not start to truly calm down until an hour later, when the wheezing had stopped, and the baby's temperature dropped below 100.

I hoped that this woman would, the next time she felt like shrieking at someone, ask herself if maybe there were extenuating circumstances, of which she was unaware. We never know what's truly going on with others, folks. Refrain from deciding that you know everything.

And in case anyone wonders, if you tell me that you own a car more expensive than some people's homes, I will not be impressed. I will not think, "Wow, that's so cool," or, "They're so classy. I'm just not as good as they are." I will think, quite frankly, that you're not very good with money. I may also think that you're self absorbed. Possessions are not the way to impress or influence me.

If you ever see a parent hustle their kids out to their car, in such a hurry that they're distracted and leaving their shopping cart behind, just grab it and take it into the store. Then you can rightly feel very proud of yourself.

Also, 24 hour drive through pharmacies (which we now have) are a Godsend.

Majority Rules

I posted this on my Facebook page about a year ago. I was annoyed, and I not only quite often communicate better in writing, I can't stand having the same conversations over and over. "Maybe," I think, "if I say this in a public forum, I won't have to engage in repetitious conversations." Yeah, it's never worked that way, but I feel better after I write something. It's like thoughts just need me to give birth to them and set them free.

And some things shouldn't surprise me, but they do - I'm surprised every time someone says, "You know that most people disagree with you, right?" Sometimes they're very gentle and concerned, patting my hand. Sometimes, they're angry, and insisting that I have no right to speak an unpopular opinion aloud.

Here's why the query surprises me - I'm a Mormon. I homeschool my kids. I classify myself as a housewife. I mean, what about my life says, "popular choices"? How does anyone suppose that it's escaped my attention that I'm a minority, in multiple, fundamental ways? I cannot imagine how deluded someone would have to be to, say, belong to an unpopular religion, but still think that most people think and act like they do.

So, I find myself making pronouncements on social media.

Consider with me, People of Facebook -

Photos like the one of the man standing in the middle of a crowd in Nazi Germany, folding his arms while everyone else gives the Nazi salute, go viral. We share them all over our social media, saying, "Be this guy!" We like to pride ourselves on being individualists, on standing out; especially Americans, who coin terms like "sheeple" to deride those who conform. We like to think that we're all about being our own person.

Yet, one of the first things that anybody says when they're trying to sway my opinion, or to explain their own, is how many people agree with them. If I had even a penny for every time I heard the phrase "most people," I'd be wealthy.

The truth is, that guy with folded arms probably faced outrage and indignation from his loved ones. "What are you thinking? How could you be so disrespectful? The man is the leader of our nation! The Fuhrer lifted us out of poverty and chaos and restored us to our rightful place as a great nation! How is it that you can't even lift your arm to show your respect?" Even if they disliked Hitler and his policies, the guy would catch flak. "You're drawing attention to yourself! How can you put yourself in danger like that? What you say or do in the privacy of your own home is one thing, but you're drawing targets on all of us, on everyone you know, on your family, everyone you work with! Think of us! Think of (list of his loved ones and co-workers)."

And that's the people who LIKE him; what about the general public? The truth is, that guy may not have lived to the end of that day. Any number of people would have been happy to point him out to the authorities, in order to curry favor for themselves, because they thought he was dangerous, or both.

It's not just the big stuff, either, but all the small stuff. We're critical of the way people dress, the way they wear their hair, the cars they drive, the entertainment they watch. We decide what restaurants to eat at by checking Yelp reviews. We decide what movies to see by checking Rotten Tomatoes. I cannot tell you how many times I've bought a book or a movie ticket and had people say, "Why would you do that? It had terrible reviews." The idea that I want to decide for myself is often roundly criticized. I've actually been asked, "What makes you think that you know better than everyone else?" That's the wrong question. The more relevant one is, what makes everyone else think that they can, or should, override my own decision making process for my own life? I don't make choices for you; you don't get to make mine for me. Things become both absurd and dangerous if we all decide that we agree with the majority just because they are a majority, or that we need to let others decide for us because they are more qualified than we are.

Being contrary just because we think that it makes us superior or more intelligent is just as ludicrous and dangerous. It should not matter what others think, or whether it's a majority opinion or a minority one, when we're forming opinions. We should take in information and decide on our own, regardless.

Please know that if you say to me, "But most people think/do this," all I hear is a statement like, "This shirt is blue." It may be true, but I can't imagine why it would be relevant.

We pay a great deal of lip service to admiring people who stand alone, but in practice, we think they're odd, and view them with suspicion or discomfort.

So, People of Facebook, cut the oddballs some slack. They may be onto something. And even if they're not, at least they're thinking independently.

And people still say weird stuff to me.

Two of my (four) children have left the religion in which we raised them. We treat them exactly the same way we always have, but I was informed that, "Your child will never be able to be happy if you think that they're doing things wrong." What? What parent thinks that their child has never, ever done, said, or thought anything wrong? That's just silly. I was thus informed that if I think my kid (or, presumably, anyone else) is doing or thinking anything wrong, that I don't "truly accept them for who they are."

I'm sorry, but that's just poppycock.

Still, I'm willing to accede to that world view and say, those people are 100% right. My poor children - they will never be happy, and I don't truly accept them. BUT HERE'S THE THING: If that is true, it means that I can never be happy, because my children think that I am wrong. And those children do not truly accept me for who I am. I mean, after all, if it applies one way, it applies the other.

Plus, my religion is not something like my nationality or hair color, something I was born with, or had handed down to me by my parents - I chose it, on my own. In fact, that's one of the reasons I find this thinking to be so ridiculous; I joined my church, alone, when I was 12. My parents were never members. Yet I did not feel unloved, and they were not unhappy because of me.

Sometimes, too, people will feel judged by the simple fact that I homeschool. We'll be having an ordinary conversation, and then they'll find out, or be reminded, that my kids do not attend school. Suddenly, someone will get defensive, insist that I think they're a bad, unloving, selfish parent who's ruining their child's life by sending them to public school. No, I will say, I think no such thing. I'm in favor of many choices, and I made the choice that works best for my family. And often, I will still be treated to an extensive recital of why they chose public school, as if they need to convince me, or need my approval.

Or, they'll tell me why they don't agree with homeschooling, but will qualify it with, "I'm not talking about you and your family," as though I am somehow an exception to every rule.

And just when I've pretty much forgotten that Mommy Wars exist, someone will tell me that my choice to be home full time has ruined my children's lives, and mine as well. Or, they'll be sure that I'm condemning them for wanting and enjoying a career.

Folks, I am NOT judging you and thinking that you're a bad person if you do things I do not do. I have no illusions that people always will, or should, agree. Sometimes we will be wrong, but that does not nullify our right to occupy space on the planet, our right to live as we choose, our right to express ourselves, or our right to be treated with civility. It does not mean that we do not love others who are different. And if you keep insisting that the simple fact that I do things differently than you do, or think that you're wrong in any way, means that I'm judging you, disliking or distrusting you, or thinking you are a lesser person than I am, I will be forced to conclude that YOU feel this way about ME. Because, I GUARANTEE, even if you're a member of my family, a member of my church, a member of my political party, occupation, or any other classification, there is something I do that you think is WRONG.

You're, of course, free to think that I'm six kinds of dreadful, but realize that fact alone doesn't mean that I think that about you.

Yes, I am thinking of all the election year rhetoric. You are not a terrible person if you vote for a candidate that I can't stand. I am not a bad person if I vote a way that you find to be wrong.