When I was but a wee lad, living in Pittsburgh during the 1950s, (almost sounds as if I am about to write and Ode) my Aunt Meercy, my guide to culture and arts, would take my younger sister Francie and I to the movie premiers, theatrical productions and museums. Pittsburgh had turned itself from a very steel mill dingy factory city into a more livable place and with the assistance of some very wealthy families, had organized and built a place for the arts. One museum, the Carnegie, was a gothic looking structure housing everything from a collection of dinosaur bones, to the history of the Native Americans and both classical and contemporary art collections. There were two rules when we traveled with Aunt Meercy, the firs was that we had to dress up, and the second was we always had to stay to the right. My Aunt Meercy, as we entered any building, would say young ladies and gentleman respect others and always stand to the right. She would add, that if someone says hello, you look them in the eye, be proud of who you are, and respond, hello, Sir or Ma’am., and always stand to the right so EVERYONE had equal access to walk toward their own direction. So, my younger sister Francie and i would follow my Aunt Meercy’s rules and would communicate with strangers, who, after acknowledging them became less strange and more human. (From this experience, I then impressed upon my kids the same concept that people had something in common). There was a song at then time called ‘Johnny Go Right’, which to my surprise my son Adam sang out of the blue one day during his Pre School Class at the Columbus JCC.
Back in the day, again some kind of Ode, is humming in my head, whenever my younger sister and I ran errands with my mother, no matter where we went to shop, my mother had a special salesperson she would seek out, be it Star Market, where we would stand in the checkout line for Louise, no matter how long the line, or Mellon Bank, where we would wait for Ruthie, the Teller, or the the Butcher at Star Market, Jake, who always made sure my younger sister and I got a free slice of bologna. my mother would tell us, we are waiting because the person who is waiting on us has a lot in common, and he or she is not a stranger, but a friend. My mother would add, and you never ever should think you have too many friends.
It is Sunday, as I write this blog, a very hot Santa Ana heat event, where the weather flows in from the desert. For LA, this weather is scary as it brings winds, and low humidity and for most of this city and its surroundings, the fear of fires. I was walking our wonder dog, Chance, and today, being miserably hot, my temper was a bit frayed. On our 45 minute jaunt, I had to exit stage left while three different people were texting on their phones, not giving a shit they were about to walk right into Chance or me. I did the quick boogie slide avoiding three piles of dog poop from the entitled dog owners who also could give a shit about their dogs shit. I had to actually stand still while four people pretended I was invisible and did not want to share the sidewalk, until one of them bumped into me and gave me that how dare you look. And the final memory of today’s walk, needed when at a four way stop sign, I began to cross he street with Chance and some guy almost hit the two of us. He looked at me and said fuck you. My response was to walk over to his window, look in the car, huffing and puffing my slight frame and saying in a go fuck yourself voice, nope, you are way to ugly for that…at which he rolled up his window, and I as slowly as possible walked in front of his car raising, of course my middle finger, and mouthing the words ASS HOLE. When I returned home, Chance seemed peppy and all I could think about was, now I understand why a man like Trump sits in the White House!
