I’ve been tooling around for about three years, using a GPS.

I am not fully trusting of the tech…it still tries to take me the wrong way down a one way street on occasion. I cringe when it decides to “recalculate” in heavy traffic. And I don’t like not really knowing where I am going half the time…but it does make it easier to learn an area…no argument.

At the moment, I am not loving Garmin, however.

My old GPS was replace before the move…it was no longer “current”, and the bastards were asking for 50 bucks to “update” the maps. Half the cost of a new unit…that came with lifetime updates. I should have KNOWN there was a scam element. My old unit was still quite functional…as in mechanics. The new one is having “power issues”. It keeps shutting down…almost as soon as I turn it on, making it essentially useless. So I get on the horn with Garmin, where a bright young thing informs me that I probably need to update the maps. I counted to ten. So…if I update the maps, I still can’t make the stupid thing function. Hello?

By now, most of you caught the story of the waiter in Texas, who took a stand in his restaurant and declined to serve a table that was being jerks about a family with a special needs kid. Some of you probably applauded his action…a few probably shrugged, and wonder why it was news.

As the parent of a child who was classified as special needs, I found it both valiant, and incredibly sad. How shallow we have all become. The people who were not served felt like they had the right to COMMENT on someones kid…for just being there. “Special needs children need to be “special” somewhere else.” Hateful.

But all too typical.  They may have been low class enough to say it…but others were probably THINKING it. I’ve seen it…the way people notice a special needs child, and their eyes cart away. UNCLEAN. Odd. Uncomfortable. As if that child will inflict their “cooties” on other children. But it’s not just the special needs children who are targeted. The Old. The Fat. Anyone who doesn’t fit into a cookie cutter, Hollywood inspired pigeon hole about what people are supposed to look like. It’s not new, I suppose. In the dark ages, to have a disability, or to have survived a serious accident that marred your appearance, you were simply EXPECTED to keep to the shadows. You were hidden away by your family, so people would not be horrified.

They did that with the insane, the “feeble minded”, even their elderly. Ye olde family portrait didn’t include the “rejects”, who were considered dirty secrets.

In the Special Needs world, we are keen on “inclusion”. That includes being able to take your kids out, and interacting “normally”, without worrying that some mindless moron will makes comments, sniff, and act obnoxious about our existence. I have an interesting formula I apply to people’s behavior. If they object to someone, I ask myself “If the same objection was made on the basis of race, would it be allowed? Encouraged? Or would most people back away from being “racist”? People need to get over themselves. We shouldn’t have to apologize for our kids—EVER.

Several years ago, my daughter had a birthday party with her friends. (She was turning 18) We took them all out to her favorite restaurant, and Desi chose a Tiki theme. She donned a fake coconut bra (OVER her tee shirt) Wore a flower lei in her hair, and put a grass skirt over her shorts. She looked adorable. But off to the side sat an older woman with her friends. She STARED at Desi…and it was not a whimsical look. We’re talking DAGGERS. I have no idea what pissed her off…maybe she just disliked the sight of young people enjoying themselves. So I stared at HER. It took about five minutes for her to notice my glare. I tried to give it every bit of the hatefulness hers had held.  And then she finally got the deal…and looked away.

“Special Somewhere Else”? Lady…our kids will be special (in a good way) WHEREVER they are.

Since everyone is all lathered up about the “ethics debate of the day” (fat shaming), I find myself curious.

When was the last time the public GAVE a good goddamn about “ethics”?

People speed, talk on their cell phones while driving, engage in all sorts of “unethical behavior”…pretty much on a daily basis. Most rarely stop and think about it. They are  much more likely to think of OTHER people’s behavior when the topics of ethics comes up, than their own. Several years back, the chief ethicist (yes, an actual job) at Princeton University caught NINE kinds of hell for suggesting that we were finally to the point of rationing health care…and that it was more ethical to treat people who could be cured, than to use the resources on those who cannot. It was difficult to think about. But it was a reality.

That dingbat Sarah Palin called it “death panels”. That would suggest that we all had equal access to basic health care now…and she whined about people killing off the handicapped. Nice try. But if you know anyone who ever waited for a transplant organ, you know a bit more about real life. Because the demand is so great, and the donor pool so small, doctors were forced to come up with a system of elimination. “First come, first served” wasn’t cutting it. So they came up with guidelines based in ethics.

Who gets the kidney? The 90 year old, or the 30 year old?

Bear in mind, a healthy kidney has a 30 year lifespan. (Bet you never knew that…donor organs are not forever.)

People who need organs due to personal abuse (lungs for smokers, kidneys or livers for addicts or alcoholics) are exempt from most donor lists, or given the very lowest priority. The logic is that you contributed to your illness. Someone who got kidney disease as a result of genetics did not. No one is saying you DESERVE it…but they are saying that someone else should not take second fiddle to your issues.

The final qualification is the one that most people find the most difficult.

Who will benefit the most? Who will get the longest run? Once you are on the lists, the sickest people tend to move to the top…with exceptions. Multiple organ failure may disqualify you. (Yes, they could give you a kidney, but if your liver is also failing, should they?)

Ethics is about asking hard questions.

But these days, people (that would be you and I) don’t seem to do that much. A friend said something interesting the other day. He said that “Liberals want to give everyone everything…pie in the sky.” And my immediate thought was “Yes, but conservatives love to pretend that the playing field is level, everyone has a shot, and “hard work” pays off…all the while ignoring how hard the working poor actually DO work…just to stay alive.”

It occurred to me later that the reason most large problems go unsolved is because they truly have no “easy” answers. And anyone who thinks they do is a drooling idiot. Education? The entire system needs to be re-done. No one wants to. They mule and whine about expenses, and not approving of the changes that might be made…and end up wasting more money on a broken system. Brilliant. Corrections? Get tough on crime! But don’t build more prisons, and don’t spend ANY money on the ones we have. Privatization was proven to be an expensive mistake with prisons…but citizens resent spending money on “criminals”. SO they spend MORE.

So now we’re back to ethics. Thinking of solutions to DIFFICULT questions. I think the “fat shaming” ethicist should go back to school. He is ignoring way too much. And he should be focusing on something useful…not something that gives people the excuse to do what they already did.  Why don’t we shame people who don’t have organ donor cards? Why don’t we make people who hurt someone else in an accident put a special tag on their cars, so people will know what they did? They used to brand people—so the public would know what you did wrong. Now? We settle for encouraging cruelty.

My…we’ve come a long way.

I also just got a front page pick from Mad Swirl…

http://madswirl.com/content/poetryforum.html

That’s two in three months.

If I do a third, I am listed as a “contributing poet”, and they asked me to submit a bio with my next poem…so people will know who I am.

EEEEEEP!

Just got back in from recording a local cable show.

For Poets.

Not kidding.

It went well. I did not toss my cookies, shake or CLICK.

(A few years back, I did a Princeton show where I punctuated EVERY LINE by clicking my tongue, and I had no idea I was doing it.)

Which is balmy, compared to our expected low of 4 tonight.

Single digits…brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2013/01/21/father-shoots-wife-and-then-himself-at-daughters-16th-birthday-party/

If you read the story, you’ll notice that the police are freaking out about the level of similar crimes happening in their town.

I went looking for the stats…and found one that stopped me in my tracks.

Fifty six percent of women who are murdered are killed by their husbands, or ex’s.

Oh…and men commit over 80 percent of the murders in the US today…so if you want to talk about something this serious, it might help if you KNEW WHAT THE HELL you’re talking about.

So the beloved daughter wanted to hit an animation/sci-fi convention in the city…but lacked:

1. Funds for a hotel room, which were SCANDALOUSLY expensive.

2. Transportation.

She’d already gotten a ticket, assuming she would find other geeks interested in sharing a ride… but a week ago, it was looking dim.
So…hey…what’s a lift into Boston…twice?

Followed by late night pick ups?

It’s what you do, if you can. So yesterday I did my walk of NON-shame at 8AM…but tonight, things wound down at 2 ish…so once again I was headed for the Westin. Now my GPS did not take me the same way in twice…nor the same route home. I learned that there a BUNCH of ways in and out of the city…and that Boston looks pretty at night. I also learned that last call in the bars must be at 1:15…because by 1:45, the route to the Westin was AWASH with 20 somethings—all in various states of alcoholic buzzing.

I say that because most of the cabs in Boston seem to be white…my car is dark blue, obviously NOT a cab—yet half a dozen people tried to flag ME down. If you can’t tell a white car from a blue car (nearly navy) you have had WAY too much to drink. At one light, I watched a late night hottie with interest. She was THE type most guys seem to find perfect…tall, willowy, slim. She was wearing one of those slip dresses, and tights…no jacket, no purse. She was none too steady on her feet, but like the rest was trying to hail a cab. By the streetlight, her makeup seemed sort of lopsided…she had not been crying…but may have sweated a bit. It was chilly by the river. But if I was a cab driver, I would not be stopping for milady.

1. No purse…she had nothing in her hands. So unless she had the cash stashed somewhere I Didn’t want to know about, she was probably broke…no fare.

2. She was just unsteady enough to suggest that she should have declined those last two or three vodka shooters—or whatever the hell they are drinking this week. I am betting she was going to hurl in the cab. Nasty clean up…and no pay.

(By the way…she didn’t seem distressed…just pissed that the cabs wouldn’t stop.)

I got to the Westin, THEN got the text saying the program had started late…she would be another half hour. (My daughter…not the drunken hottie.) So I amused myself by observing the unconventional conventioneers. (Gotta love the costumes!) One was seriously adorable.

A boy of about 20 was wearing these STILT shoes…

http://www.dhgate.com/kangaroo-shoes-jumping-stilt-jumping-jacks/p-ff8080812c1cd14b012c2220daf62028.html

He could BARELY make it through the revolving door…but he did so, holding the hand of a girl dressed like a gypsy. Her friend was tugging her off to a cab—and at the last moment, she pulled away, ran BACK to stilt shoe guy, said something…and they KISSED. Then she ran back to the cab, and was gone.

I’m starting to think when I lack creative juice, I just need to take a ride into the city…

For the second time this week, a young girl came knocking (with a parent!) to sell Girl Scout cookies…and for the second time, I took a pass.

I could blame it on dieting…or the fact that I really don’t like them anymore.

I could blame it on the fact that they are horribly overpriced…but…no…That’s not it.

I was a girl scout for a year in grammar school. It was the first time they offered “prizes” for sales—other than the pizza party they used to throw. I did my best. I sold about 70 boxes, and really felt good about it…until I was at the meeting where the girls with the huge families, or extensive  social circles toted up their sales—high triple digits. Worse…the prizes were things there girls already OWNED…that kids like me could only sort of imagine.

I remember the first time I saw a mom set up a table by the supermarket…which I guess made sense from a marketing standpoint. But I was pinching pennies for my family—and being solicited by the earnest young things bothered me. Worse…some girls were barely willing, clearly bored, and doing it only because their moms were there. Now you could accuse me of lacking entrepreneurial spirit…but the girl scout cookie has changed over the years. Once it was a group undertaking—and now it’s become a competition with no clear goal in place.

I think the girls could better spend the time, both with their parents, and each other. And lest we forget, there is the whole “girls sell cookies” while boy scouts clean abandoned lots, do recycling drives, and actually get out there. It’s just a little too precious…and a little too sexist. Once, you learned things in Girl Scouts that your parents didn’t know to teach you…genuine skills you actually might have need of. But now? Is the best we can do for them the demand that they spend one month a year pushing trans fat, and carbs?

And I am sure other people will tell me I am wrong…which is fine. But if there is more to it, observe…the message is NOT getting out there.  People still equate girl scouts with COOKIES. Juliet Lowe Would not be amused…

I was doing some “taxi” work for my daughter in the wee small hours today (for which she is paying me) and I was coming in the house at 8 ish.

It occurred to me that for many, blasting out of their beds before dawn, and returning a few hours later is a demonstration of a secret rendezvous—a tryst…some sort of adult goings on…and it made me sigh a little. I’d like to think I am not too old for such things.

But it also occurred to me that had someone witnessed my bare daylight return, they would more likely think I had been to an early garage sale…and that makes me a little sad.