Since I’m a huge fan of Tron and Depeche Mode, I was elated to find a video that put DM’s “Suffer Well” to some great clips from Tron. Very interesting stuff, I’d suggest checking it out.
Monthly Archive for January, 2006
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch you name” I said as I extended him my hand. “My name is Robert” he answered. “Nice to meet you Robert, take care of yourself” I replied as I smiled and grabbed my daughter’s hand to head for the door. This was the ending of my daughter’s first lesson on charity. What started off as a normal trip to McDonalds, ended in an emotional experience for myself and, hopefully, an example for my young daughter.
I decided that I would take my daughter to lunch today before I drove up to Kaysville to check on the progress of the digging at my Dad’s lot. As we were entering the restaurant, I overheard a man sardonically remark to his wife that he was “sorry for taking (his) eyes off them” and that he “didn’t know there was a fruitloop in the restaurant.” I’m assuming that he was referring to his children as “them.” I didn’t think anything of the remark other than the fact that the guy sure came off like an ignorant and verbally abusive jerk.
We ordered the usual fare and after filling our drinks, grabbing napkins and ketchup, and receiving our order, I asked Milaena to find us a place to sit. I like to give her the choice of where to sit, I don’t know why. She poked around for a bit and finally settled on two tall chairs near the end of the building. I placed our food on the table, took off our coats, and got Milaena ready to eat. It was at this point that I noticed the man sitting across the aisle from us.
He looked nervous. I watched him for a few minutes and noticed that he had an orange, some plastic utensils, a toothbrush and some toothpaste all wrapped up in a small hand towel. I noticed this only because, as he was unwrapping them, they fell to the floor. He also had what appeared to be a knapsack or some sort of pad to sleep on. After another few minutes, I noted him taking off his sweatshirt, revealing an army green vest and some dog tags. Judging by his age, I assumed him to be a Vietnam vet. Judging by his general condition, I assumed him to be homeless.
It was at this point that I noted the man mumbling to himself. I strained to hear what he was saying, but was able to clearly make out a few sentences. He muttered something about Christmas day in 1983 and then something about losing radio contact. A few more sentences made me realize he was indeed talking about the Vietnam war, intermingled with other random subjects. I’m no doctor, but I know that a good portion of the mentally-ill homeless are schizophrenic. I was saddened.
I continued eating and watching. I noted the older man sitting down from us was extremely uncomfortable. He seemed to be a business person and was obviously bothered by the transient sitting across from him. Meanwhile, the homeless man, who must have noticed me looking at him, continued to throw nervous glances my way. I was prompted to ask him if he needed something to eat.
I got up from my table, almost automatically, and sauntered over to his seat. It literally seemed as if I was not in control of my body. All of the sudden, I was standing next to him. I looked him in the eye, smiled, and asked him if he had enough to eat. His reply was short and honest. “No” he said. I then asked if he’d like something else to eat and he replied that it would be nice.
He asked my daughter’s name, and after telling him, I grabbed Milaena and together we all walked up to the counter. I asked him what he’d like to eat and, in a somewhat stuttered and confused-sounding reply, he said “just a hamburger” and then “Big Mac.” I asked him if he was sure if that was all he wanted and he then told me that he also would like a cup of coffee. So, I ordered a Big Mac and a large cup of joe.
While we were waiting, I told him my name and tried in vain to make sense of what he was saying to me. He spoke in a quiet voice and kept mentioning the United States as well as other things which I cannot recall. It was a bit awkward because I didn’t know what to say back to him. This was not my first encounter with a homeless person, but it was my first encounter with mentally-ill homeless person. After he got his food, he thanked me and Milaena and we separated to find our seats again. As I returned, the uncomfortable older man said “at least you know he’s not going to drink it away.” I feigned a smile, replied “that’s right” and returned to my seat.
My new acquaintance didn’t return to his prior seat. I found this interesting and disconcerting at the same time. He found a seat completely at the other end of the restaurant. It was at this point that I realized I hadn’t even asked him his name.
I hurried Milaena through the rest of her dinner and we threw our coats on hastily. I looked towards his new seat, luckily, he hadn’t left. I walked up to him, at which point the opening conversation took place.
I explained to my daughter, as best I could, why I did what I did. I told her that it is our responsibility to help people who can’t provide for themselves. I asked her if she understood, she said she did, and pray that she does. I was not talking about helping some questionable panhandler or parking lot schemer, I was talking about a man who has bore the brunt of the effects of a brutal war and who is no longer able to care for himself. He is neglected by the very country that he served.
As I was driving to Kaysville, with Milaena asleep behind me, I thought back on the experience. I was saddened when I thought of the remarks of the man who was leaving the restaurant as we entered. Indeed, my initial judgement seemed to be correct. He was in fact and ignorant jerk. That “fruitloop” he was referring to was a man who gave up his time, his sanity, and who knows what else to fight a war for the protection of our country. Whether or not that war was just is completely irrelevant. Here we have a man who has weathered unknown sufferings as a result of the trauma that resulted from serving his country and the respect he gets is some ignorant pig calling him names. Beautiful.
I was also saddened by the remark of the uncomfortable older man. His lack of compassion was evident and I’m sure that my actions befuddled him. Like most people, he seemed to assume that the homeless are that way by choice. Though I don’t think that he meant his comment to be mean-spirited, the statement was cutting and it does go to show how ignorant the average person is about homelessness. I hope my actions spurred him to think differently.
Instances like this remind me why I chose a career in social work. I’m in no way deluded in thinking that I can change the world by myself and that I can improve the situation of every person in need, but I do think that somehow, I can make a difference. We can all make a difference.
Katie Couric, during a recent interview with the author of the book The Osama Bin Laden I Know, Peter Bergen, had the following to say about the ever-slippery terrorist demagogue:
“He talks about President Bush in the tape and he says he’s foolish for ignoring the poll numbers that indicate the American people want him to pull out of Iraq. How do you think he’s keeping abreast of all this. It’s sort of odd, isn’t it? Is he just paying attention to Al-Jazeera? It’s not as if he’s reading the New York Times, is it?” (emphasis added).
Yes Ms. Couric. It’s actually pretty likely that OBL would like to keep up on what’s going on in America, even if it is through the eyes of the American left who wish not to demonize him. Someone, please give her a lobotomy and put her out of our misery. Of course, her stupidity could easily be explained by a lobotomy, so perhaps we’re too late.
Okay, aside from the fact that Apple seems to have started their really bad naming spree off with this piece of hardware (Macbook Pro? Ugh!) I have to say that I’m thoroughly impressed with my new Mighty Mouse. I picked it up on Monday and have had a few days to spend with the little ditty. Initially, I had a hard time getting used to the feel of the mouse in my hand. Of course, that simply required me to reprogram my muscle memory and once I had found a new grip, all was good. I’ve left the thing on default settings (with the exception of adding the alternate click on the right side) and get an Expose (all windows) display on the side-click and Dashboard with a scroll-ball click.
That’s another thing I should mention, the scroll ball. Unlike the wheels that most other mice use, this give the user very finite control over the amount of scrolling they want to do. Additionally, it has a 360° roll, which is great for working with zoomed documents and those ill-programmed web-pages that just won’t seem to fit in my PowerBook’s 1024×768 display.
The mouse itself is largely programmable with each button being capable of doing one of a great list of functions. As with most Mac mice, it’s shape makes it compatible for both left and right-handed individuals. The mouse tracks very well and is extremely accurate, with no skipping noted (as would happen with my prior Logitech mouse). The software required was a quick install caused no issues with my system.
My only major complaint about it is that the cord is so darned small. I can’t plug it into my USB hub and therefore it takes up the second USB slot on my PowerBook. No big deal really, just more cord clutter. Actually, the fact that it has a cord at all is somewhat irritating, but I’ll deal with that. Some people complain that the touch-sensitive surface won’t allow them to control-click while their other finger is still on the opposite side. I for one have never kept my finger on the regular button when doing an alternate click, so that is a non-issue for me. Other than the minute details I mentioned, I couldn’t be more happy with the first mouse built specifically for OS X.
I was talking to my daughter this morning about the different sounds that things make, animals make, and people say. We’d been through the usual run of animals and whatnot so I decided to test her imagination and see how she would respond to questions she’d never been asked. I started with “What does Grandma say?” She responded, “Come here Nayna.” Classic, I smiled at that one. Then I proceeded to ask her what Grandpa said. Her response? “No snacks!” I died laughing. I’m assuming that she meant Grandpa’s infamous “no eats, no treats” statement which is generally used when a child (myself included) refuses to eat their dinner. Just now, I asked her the question again. Her response this time? “No treats!” It’s really amazing the things that kids remember. Hopefully, she doesn’t think that Grandpa is just a big meanie.
