Polite Savages (tm)

Trick or Treat

Halloween is over but I haven't forgotten it. 

Where I grew up, the night before Halloween is referred to as "Cabbage Night" or "Mischief Night."  On that night, kids get to act out their vandal fantasies.  They decorate houses and trees with toilet paper and shaving cream.  Older kids drive around and throw eggs at the little vandals.  Unfortunately my mother's house was attacked ferociously.  They completely covered her front door with shaving cream topped off with a toilet paper crust.  Very nice.  I don't like this holiday.  I don't know what kind of parents condone such behavior.  I don't.  On Halloween day, these kids should clean up the mess they made.  My mother was lucky, our kind neighbors helped her clean. 

Every year, I hand out candy at my mother's house.  Trick or treaters amaze me.  There seems to be a sense of entitlement to candy.  Some children feel the need to ring the doorbell repeatedly, peer in through the side glass or even try to open the door.   I'm coming.  Relax!  And why would you open the door to a stranger's house?  There were also some kids that grabbed the candy right off my tray even though I was handing it out.  I shouldn't knock them, those kids will probably turn out to run a hedge fund. 

The American Work Picnic

     Yesterday, I went to a uniquely American phenomenon, the work barbecue, held at Krucker's, a self described "catering and picnic grove."   The Krucker's website claims that "the sights and sounds surrounding Krucker's are nothing less than spectacular."  I wouldn't go that far.  To me spectacular means a lot more than a couple of shallow ponds with some anemic turtles and snakes.  But I did leave feeling wholesome and satisfied.  My daughter had a good time and the food was good and the service was very nice.  If you do go, try the sausage and peppers.  And if you can figure out what butter sauce is, then please tell me. 

     My reluctance to go in previous years resulted from my learned belief that work and personal life should not mix.  Maybe it's partially instinctual.  Mixing those two is like putting Lindsay Lohan in a holy water bath.  Someone or something would burn or evaporate.  I succumbed and finally went because it was not on the last day of my daughter's camp, one of my favorite co-workers is leaving and I do actually like some of my colleagues.  Once I was out of the office and drinking keg beer I was able to see my colleagues as three-dimensional people with children, summer homes and eclectic interests rather than cardboard cutouts sitting behind desks in the cubicle farm.  I made an effort to talk to everyone and meet their significant others and children.  It felt nice.  Not that everyone is my new best friend forever.  The reality is that tomorrow I'll pass these people in the hall and leave it at "Hi, how are you?"  The work barbecue is like Christmas in Summer.  It reminds us that we all should just be a little bit nicer to each other with the added bonus that we don't need to exchange gifts.

Fire Island Dance Festival; Disciplining Other People's Children

     Considering that I am not too into modern dance, I've seen quite a bit of it these past few weeks.  Maybe, I'll become a fan yet.  This past weekend my daughter and I attended the Fire Island Dance Festival benefiting Dancers Responding to AIDS.  Apparently this benefit raised $300,000 from this past weekend alone.  Well done!  Believe me, that's pretty good when you think about all the benefits and fund raisers that barrage you year round.  There are benefits for every cause, not to mention the premature fund raising of the the 2008 U.S. presidential candidates.  Unfortunately, my partner was not able to come and enjoy the benefit of his patronage.  Instead, he had to go to a funeral in Reno, NV.  So we had extra tickets.  We were able to bring two of our daughter's friends.  The remaining two, I gave back.  Our seats were damn good.  I felt like royalty  We sat about 10 feet from the stage with no rows blocking us.  So please be aware and if you can donate to Dancers Responding to AIDS.  It's very worthy I assure you.  I hope that you know by now that if I don't believe in an organization or a cause, I would not promote it.  I'm not a celebrity so I cannot be bought.

     So back to telling other people's children what to do.  My daughter has friends on the Island of Fire that she saw for the last time for the summer this past weekend.  She will be going to Taiwan with my mother to explore her ethnic heritage much like me at the same age.  Since we had extra tickets, I thought it would be nice to invite her friends to sit with us so my daughter could share the experience with her friends.  Certain of her friends on the island are really lovely but these certain friends would benefit from a summer at finishing school.  During the performance, I had to shush them and threaten that I would send them to wait outside if they continued to talk during the performance.  I'm not a total hard-ass.  It's fine to talk in between during the clapping and announcements so long as it is discrete.  Perhaps, I am too self-conscious, being uptight or in the front row.  Maybe I just shouldn't give a crap but that's not me.  And if I felt that way then I wouldn't be killing myself to maintain this blog and try to increase readership.  From what I've seen and heard Americans and people from other nationalities are very concerned about good manners.   

Disciplining the Children of Others

My last post begs the question: "Is it proper to discipline other people's children?"   Mind you, by "discipline" I don't mean physical beatings or emotional torture.  I just mean instruction by rational dialog. 

The answer as always, is "it depends."  It depends on the context. 

Are you at home or in a public place?  Are the children your guests or within your care?  Are they guests or the children of hosts?  How well do you know these children?  How close are you to their parents? 

Over the next several weeks, I will explore this subject.

Ching Chang Charlie, Do You Know Karate?

That is what one of my daughter's acquaintances was chanting in the pool yesterday.  Apparently it was some form of pool game that I've never played.  That rhyme, however, was one that I heard quite often as a child growing up in mostly white suburban New Jersey.  I stopped dead in my tracks and asked her to repeat the rhyme.  I then told her that in our house, we do not tolerate such speech.  She didn't understand and I believed her.  I continued to explain to her that games, jokes or stories based on race or ethnicity can be offensive to people who are members of those groups.  Eventually she got it, especially after I asked her if she would like it if called her a honky white girl from a trailer park.  She was a good sport about it and hopefully she'll correct her family members at home.