The Trouble With Spikol: Print Edition: Pet Issue
About seven months ago I bought a hamster and named him Tinsel—a name I thought sounded like a Jewish accountant but that I now realize, after many confused conversations, is more closely associated with Christmas. Since I know Tinsel is going to die early—as all hamsters must—I’ve been acting like he’s a child in a hospital and I’m a visiting clown. I try to make things fun and exciting for him every day, feeding him as many delicious treats as his tiny body will allow.
The other day I went on a mission to buy more crunchy treats for Tinsel when I witnessed an interaction I haven’t been able to get out of my mind. For some reason I was especially disgusted to see it happen in a pet store. There were parakeets watching, for God’s sake!
The problem began with a white woman who was buying approximately 500 pounds of cat food. I guessed she was a shelter worker or animal rescuer, and I felt warm inside, knowing she was caring for so many whiskered, meowing faces. I thought it was cute she was also buying toys for them. I pictured her being greeted by their upturned hungry faces, and I got so into my fantasy, tears came to my eyes.
But when she went to check out, she arrived at the cashier at roughly the same time as a black guy who was buying one little bag of goldfish. Clearly, his transaction would’ve taken about 30 seconds. The fish swimming in the bag seemed happy enough, but there was more urgency to his purchase. But she went first.
That rubbed me the wrong way. I’m one of those people who goes out of their way to let other people go first. If someone has fewer items than I do, I bow awkwardly—in the manner of the 18th century—and suggest they go ahead. I just think it’s good form. The people in line with me thought so too—which is why they were shocked by the cat rescuer’s behavior. Without regard to the rest of us, she plopped her cans on the belt and the cashier began ringing her up.
This lack of decorum didn’t sit well with Goldfish Man.
“What the fuck are you buying there?” he asked her, rudely.
Uh-oh.
Because I fear conflict, I would’ve responded (probably with a bow): “I know. Can you believe this? I have, like, a bazillion cats I have to feed and I’m in a rush. I’m sorry to be such a crazy cat lady.”
And chances are he would’ve laughed.
But instead of laughing it off or—better yet—ignoring him, Cat Lady became enraged, and insisted on staying enraged for the duration. Goldfish Man was standing perfectly still, yet she took a preposterous wide-legged stance, thrust out her hand and said, “Back off!” It looked like she was demonstrating something she learned in an assertiveness class in the early ’70s.
He never raised his voice, which just made her angrier. Her face was red and she was shaking.
There was tension in the air because we all knew what was coming. And it did: She said something like, “You should learn how to speak.” She also informed him she lived in a black neighborhood, as if to suggest she was great friends with black people normally but he was too uppity. It was his fault, not hers.
When she left, we all burst out laughing. Goldfish Man seemed unfazed, as though he was immune to white people making asses of themselves. But is that really the kind of interaction that can just roll off you? Here he was, just being a garden-variety shmuck, and this woman made it all about his being black. If anything, it was more cat vs. fish than white vs. black.
Obviously, if he’d been white, she wouldn’t have reprimanded him for speaking poorly, and she certainly wouldn’t have said anything about her neighborhood. Scratch the surface of an enlightened white person, make her lose her temper, and the truth bubbles up. It was like a gentler, pet-oriented version of Michael Richards.
The reference to poor speaking habits reminded me of Joe Biden’s uncomfortable remarks about Barack Obama’s presidential candidacy. Biden told The New York Observer, “I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean.”
Articulate? Clean? Obama gave Biden a pass: “We have got more important things to worry about,” Obama told CNN. “We have got Iraq. We have got healthcare. We have got energy. This is low on the list.”
So the conversation petered out. Wouldn’t it have been more productive to have serious dialogue about those remarks? What if Obama had said, “What Joe Biden’s comments represent are important for us to talk about. What powerful white people think about race matters”?
I wonder if the woman in the pet store was embarrassed after she left the store. I wonder if she said to herself, “Oh my God, where did that come from? I can’t believe I said that.” Maybe she told her white friends about it, as a confession of sorts.
Or maybe not. Maybe she didn’t care.
It doesn’t really matter. For the man holding the bag of goldfish, the damage—however slight—was done. Again.
liz | 12:21 PM | Uncategorized
I find this very sad
A 23-year-old swim coach and substitute teacher committed suicide Saturday after he learned he’d be going to prison for 10-40 years because of sexual abuse against two ninth-grade girls. From the Philadelphia Inquirer:
According to court records, [Jeff] Anderson and the teens had begun a salacious online relationship via instant messaging and Facebook.com Web sites that soon turned physical.
He had kissed both of the girls in a school classroom before arranging to meet with them at the home of one of the teens on a Saturday in April when the girl’s parents were away. He had sexual contact with both of them there, court documents say.
While waiting for his sentence to begin, Anderson pulled an outdoor grill into his house and asphyxiated himself. He left a three-page suicide note. From the Inquirer:
In it, he acknowledged his loved ones’ “unconditional love, even after the monster inside was revealed. But I cannot live with what I have done.”
So many lives ruined.
Facing jail sentence, ex-teacher kills self
liz | 11:28 AM | Uncategorized
True confession: Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I cannot stop eating the pictured snacks, Shoga Tsumami, which I got in Philly’s Chinatown. It’s like they’re flying into my mouth unbidden. And they’re all sugar! I might as well be addicted to crack.
[To buy them online, go here.]
liz | 4:12 PM | Uncategorized
Dawdy
I have been seriously remiss of late in letting you all know what’s going on at Furious Seasons — which is a lot, as always. Please go over there now because today is the two-year anniversary of Philip Dawdy’s amazing blog. That’s two years of driving so-called normal people — Big Pharma execs, say — completely crazy. I’m on record as an admirer of the blog, so I won’t get all weepy. Just, congratulations, Philip.
liz | 4:38 PM | Uncategorized
I wish I read Chinese
I think this page would be more fun that way, don’t you?
liz | 3:08 PM | Uncategorized
The Beloved
I know that headline post I did earlier was a little forlorn, but man, I didn’t take my Ativan last night, and it was like 8 hours of being burned at the stake. I wanted to be awake this morning, so I thought, Well, I’ll just take the other stuff but not the Ativan. How bad could it be? Wrong question.
I don’t think I was in any kind of proper withdrawal. I think it was rather that the OCD saw an opening — and took it. I was really focused on every movement of my body, every sound, every little catch in my throat. I couldn’t sleep. At one point, I was agonizing over whether my pillow was situated above my shoulder or below my shoulder. It’s not even a distinction I could understand this morning, but last night it was of great urgency. About a half-hour after a sneezing attack, I had an asthma attack. But I was nervous about taking my inhaler, so I waited until my breathing was so shallow, I was convinced I was going to die. It was like that, for hours and hours, with intermittent sleep. In my REM moments, I had a dream that I was trapped in a horror movie called The Beloved. In the film people you were attracted to would return your interest and then turn into demons. I tried to get out of the movie and away from the demons, but I kept getting pulled in. Bette Midler was in the film. She was the only name star.
I finally gave in a couple hours ago and took a quarter pill, which is doing absolutely nothing for me. I think I’ll go home and hide under the covers — this time, after I’ve taken a nice, pretty white pill.
liz | 5:22 PM | Uncategorized
The headline says it all
Suicide rates as a public relations tool
liz | 12:48 PM | Uncategorized
Abuse of kids in residential and day-treatment facilities
The Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare Office of Children, Youth and Families sent out the below letter last week:
This letter is to inform you of a pattern of serious injuries that have resulted from the application of restraints at multiple facilities operated by Kidspeace National Centers, Inc. Facility staff utilized restraint techniques in managing the behavior of children, which resulted in multiple serious physical injuries that required medical attention. The injuries incurred include a spiral fracture to the left humerus; a spiral fracture to the right humerus in the elbow area; a fracture of the medial malleolus of the right ankle; a displaced right midshaft humerus fracture; a spiral fracture of the left tibia and fibula; an oblique fracture of the left distal humerus; and a fracture to the right clavicle.
These incidents occurred between March 13, 2007 and August 18, 2007 at the following facilities: Athletes Center; Marconi House; Wright House; and Revere House Diagnostic Center (Kidspeace National Centers Inc) 5300 Kidspeace Drive Orefield, Pa 18069 Telephone: (610) 799-8000 County: Lehigh Region: Northeast Kidspeace National Centers Washington House (Kidspeace National Centers Inc) 1650 Broadway Bethlehem, Pa 18015 Telephone: (610) 799-8000 County: Lehigh Region: Northeast
There has also been an increased police response to complaints at KidsPeace received by local law enforcement over the past year. Many of these complaints have dealt with inappropriate sexual activity in the programs.
Based on these incidents and issues, the Department has closed the intake process for the following programs: Athletes Center; Barton House; Ross House: King House; Marconi House; Fulton House; Edison House; Wright House; Bell House; Franklin House; and Pioneer House; Revere House Diagnostic Center (Kidspeace National Centers Inc) 5300 Kidspeace Drive Orefield, Pa 18069 Telephone: (610) 799-8000 County: Lehigh Region: Northeast
Kidspeace National Centers Washington House (Kidspeace National Centers Inc) 1650 Broadway Bethlehem, Pa 18015 Telephone: (610) 799-8000 County: Lehigh Region: Northeast
What a shame.
liz | 2:55 PM | Uncategorized
Change of pace
Well, I have big news: I’m leaving my full-time job at the Pennsylvania Prison Society for a full-time job at Horizon House. Though I’ve enjoyed working with incarcerated people and their families — and have learned a great deal about the criminal justice system and the evils of mass incarceration — the Horizon House position as a Certified Peer Specialist Community Liaison will allow me to do more direct advocacy within the Wellness Alliance, a new program. Horizon House was one of three agencies selected by Philadelphia’s Department of Behavioral Health /Mental Retardation Services (DBH/MRS) to transform the agency’s partial hospital services into a recovery-oriented service. It should be interesting and challenging. And it’s a position that allows me not only to be “out” about my mental illness, but depends on my sharing my recovery experience. Refreshing not to have to hide anything — or everything.
I’ll still be doing the blog, writing my column, and writing Lit Gloss for PW. But I suspect I’ll have an even more nuanced understanding of mental health issues now that I’ll be employed by a mental health agency.
And now, for the Most Depressing Headline of the Day: US Suicide Rates for Young Girls, Boys Up
Interesting — we’re medicating and treating more kids than ever. There’s something wrong with that picture.
liz | 10:38 AM | Uncategorized
Owen Wilson
For some reason, I’ve been reluctant to write about Owen Wilson’s suicide attempt. I just feel sorry for him and don’t want to get into it — which makes no sense, I know, given that he’s a public figure.
Thankfully, the New York Times‘ Daphne Merkin is more eloquent than I’d ever be on the subject, so (thanks Masale.Wallah), click here.
liz | 3:23 PM | Uncategorized
