Naive

 

Naive

1. Having or showing a lack of experience, judgment, or information (dictionary.com)

I am not a worldly person. I don’t understand a lot of things. That being said, I’m not ignorant of the political climate around me. But, I am confused on what it means to serve. I believe that those we put in office are beholden to us. We are their boss, so to speak. How they conduct themselves and how they represent our needs and secure our future is their number one job.  I believe that to serve a population, a constituency, a town, a neighborhood; is to serve those that elected you.

Empathy. Concern. Understanding. Respect.

Perhaps, my naïveté is showing. I have a problem with our representatives who are in it for themselves. Who see those who don’t agree with them as an enemy. Aren’t you supposed to be in service to me? My neighbors? My community? Our country? If you don’t have my best interests at heart, then why are you in this line of work? How can you serve if you don’t see each and every one of us?

I don’t expect humans to be perfect. But, I expect my chosen representatives to respect those they serve. Democracy is messy.

Opinions. Rights. Perspective. 

But a representative that does not serve, is not who I want making decisions that affect my life. To be elected by your peers is to serve them faithfully and to the best of your ability. If that is being naive, well… 

“How Much of These Hills is Gold”

Most of the West was built on the backs of others. I was hoping that Zhang’s novel gave a new perspective to the migrant labor of the Chinese building the Transcontinental Railroad. Or perhaps, the countless others that mined the hills, washed the dirty laundry, and created communities far from their native homes. What I found was perplexing. Not the racism, hatred, or harsh conditions, but the storyline itself. 

They were a family of prospectors. Identity seekers. Longing for their ancestral home (well one of them). Looking for a better life. They became orphans. Struggling to find their place. Falling into the pitfalls of the unseen. 

In the end, Zhang mentions the photograph of the Golden Spike taken at Promontory Point, Utah in 1869. Her protagonist, Lucy, discovers what I discovered in teaching about the Transcontinental Railroad - there are no Chinese laborers in the photo. Small, wirey, knowledgeable of explosives, they were the backbone of the labor force. Lucy is right to be appalled. 

I suppose that one mention of history, sort of saved the novel for me. Although I am still contemplating many other aspects. Still, perplexed.

Rule Follower

I am a rule follower. Ok, I’ll admit I drive over the speed limit occasionally, but it irks me when people don’t follow the rules. For the most part I grumble. Piss and moan. Share the injustices with my husband, and we piss and moan together. Rarely do I say or do anything when these injustices occur. That was until last week.

My husband and I were attending a baseball game and decided to get an ice cream. We approached the food service area. There were several young people manning the order/pick up counter. We noticed that at the far end of the counter, there was a line in front of the ice cream machines. We inquired with the cashier if we needed to be in that line, or could she take our order. She checked with a supervisor and told us she could indeed take our order and that we would need to get into the line to pick it up. 

We paid and headed for the line. Of note is the fact that this line area was pretty chaotic. People weren’t sure if they could order, pay, and/or pick up from that line. As we patiently waited for our turn. A woman with a toddler stepped adjacent to the line. We mentioned to her that the line for ice cream was behind us. She said that her order was so complicated that her cashier said she would get it for her. WHAT? 

As my husband was securing our ice cream, I waited for the cashier to be in between customers. Now, this is something I’m not proud of…I pointed out that she, the cashier, had cut the line. That all those people were waiting. I wouldn’t let her explain, other than her saying that that’s how it works. I didn’t raise my voice. I tried not to intimidate her (not sure how successful I was).

It was a total Karen move. I know it was not the cashier’s fault. I know she didn’t intentionally break the “rules”. BUT, when you are a rule follower, and you don’t make waves, and simply sigh and move on…I don’t know, something snapped. I had had enough of being taken advantage of. That’s exactly how I saw it, in that moment . Any other time, I would have shrugged it off. Chalked it up to the chaotic mess (and not just my melting ice cream) that it was. I should have asked to speak to a manager. I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have gone back and apologized.

Now I’m stuck with this unsettling feeling of having been an asshole. I want to blame the political climate, the idea of privilege - that some of us don’t have to play by the rules. The customer that cut the line - she didn’t stop the cashier and make it right by getting into the line. I’m sad that I sank so low. Frustrated that there will always be those who don’t think the rules apply to them. And, I’m damn sure not buying ice cream at the ballpark again!

July 10, 2024

“Little Girl Missing”

With my love of true crime drama; I came at this novel from a different angle.

A kidnapping. A BFF that inserts herself into the investigation a little too much. An old-timely antagonist. Double crosses. Infidelity, maybe. Love. Jealousy.

I would have to categorize this as a cozy mystery. No blood. No guts. Just a good old fashioned who dunnit. The storyline kept me on my toes. And the hopeful resolution was indeed the happily-ever-after I was looking for.

That’s it.

More thoughts on books and stuff at mytossiecup.blogspot.com