Firsts

Remember when things would happen and you would feel shocked or appalled or even simply dumbfounded? When something you had never seen before took center stage and you were left to deal with it, whatever way you did. Then, the next time it happened, you were still affected by it, but not as shocked. Perhaps there was still an essence of being appalled, even, but not like the first time you saw it, whatever “it” was.Here are some things that I recall as striking me as offensive or upsetting in their novelty, but eventually, the novelty wore off and I thought nothing about it…

My first time hearing the “f” word was in my first “R” rated movie, Saturday Night Fever. My sister took me to see it before I was 18 (the age required back then) but I had convinced her I was mature enough to handle whatever the “R” stood for. I begged and pleaded because I wanted to see Vinnie Barbarino in the movies. And so she took me. Since I am relaying this story to you as a time when I was affected by a “first”, obviously I was neither mature enough or emotionally prepared for whatever “R” stood for. Sorry, Kaye…I should have listened to you and we should have gone to see “Paper Moon” or “Blazing Saddles”.

When I was in high school, I remember the first time I saw a boy scratch himself “there”. I was mortified. I could not understand how he could do such a thing in public! I remember thinking “he must have a terrible itch to do that in front of all of us!” As it turns out, this was the wave of things to come as far as scratching itches. In no time at all, practically every boy was scratching “there” and seemingly proud of it. Scratching moved on to “repositioning”. Since this happened so quickly after the “scratching” incident, I am not entirely positive which appalling action happened first, but they were both around the same time and they remain disgusting. STOP SCRATCHING YOURSELF!!! Would you scratch yourself in front of your mother?!??!? Actually, some guys would…

Ugh.

Another first that I recall as initially upsetting was watching a movie where someone had a heart attack. Again, I was with my sister, and the movie was Superman with Christopher Reeve, the REAL Superman. Anyway, Clark Kent’s father, um, Mr. Kent, dies from a heart attack. I remember my sister looking at me with great, big eyes filled with so much regret and sorrow for my having just watched that scene. You see, our father died from a heart attack and the wounds left from his death were still fresh. My sister put her arm around me shoulders and said she was sorry, over and over and over. She said, “I didn’t know! I didn’t know! I am so sorry!” Of course, she had no idea and I had no idea and it just kind of was there, staring us down from the big screen. For the record, even with the flair of a Hollywood production, watching someone on screen die from cancer hasn’t become novelty either, as cancer killed our mother.

Perhaps odd but still true, I remember the first time I heard someone say “GD”. I hated it. My heart ached and raced and I thought lightening was going to strike them dead right then and there. I think I kind of waited for it, to be honest. Lightening never struck but I never forgot how hearing it made me feel and I resigned myself to never say that word. I thought the same thing when I heard someone say “Oh my God” like it was nothing. Well kids, it’s definitely something. (Refer to Commandment #7 here, if necessary.)

Along those same lines, I heard an awful word phrase not too terribly long ago that still bothers me. I hesitate to even mention it because that places it in my head. Input Junk – Output Junk. You know, what? I can’t do it. It is sacrilegious and I just can’t do it…but it is horrible!

The first time I saw a dead person on tv. Now, growing up, a corpse was not allowed to be shown on tv. I am not sure when the news could broadcast this, but it is definitely within my lifetime. I was never one to watch the news, but my family did every night. I remember the story being related by Tom Brokaw or someone and it was relevant to a war far, far away. I watched because I knew they wouldn’t show anything upsetting…and then they showed a corpse. WHAT?!?!?!?

I am a very visual person and can retain images in my head forever, if I want to…or if I keep drumming them up through blog entries. Anyway, I remember things quite vividly if they made an impact on me.

I remember my first college party. I was a freshman and wanted to fit in so badly. I nursed a drink and pretended to be drunk for at least two hours. The drink was some colorful red and had grain alcohol in it. I had no idea what grain alcohol was but I knew I didn’t like it. I didn’t like pretending to be drunk either, but it was better than the alternative of actually being drunk. At that point in my young life, I had never been drunk.

The first time I got drunk was… LOL That’s funny. But, yes, the first time I got drunk to the point of not knowing anything has never happened. I have always been aware of my surroundings and more than capable of making safe choices. I have been tipsy and have been under the influence, but never full-fledged drunk. The most I have ever been intoxicated was this time last year. Big Daddy and I were out with Uncle Bill and Elay for the FIRST time. We went to a UK basketball game, also a first for me, and then to Bar Louie’s for dinner and drinks. I had not eaten all day and found the little strawberry cocktail quite tasty. With about two, I was tipsy…the third one made my face hot and flushed and I felt the need to talk very loudly and s-l-o-w. I also found it imperative that I tell Elay how pretty she was every few minutes. Apparently I did not want her to forget. LOL Anyway, if I am drinking, which is rare, I prefer a good pina colada where you cannot taste the alcohol and you cannot even get tipsy, really. At Bar Louie, they do not have frosty, cold, fru-fru drinks. Just the hard stuff, I guess…and it only takes three. So, my first time being drunk was February 2009. Ironically, it was also the last time.

Let’s look at a wonderful “first”…The first time I got a hug from Big Daddy. We were working at the same place and it was very cold outside. I had come in for my shift and he was already there. We went upstairs to a little office where we would spy on shoplifters and I took off my coat. I feigned a chill and Big Daddy offered to “warm me up”. He put his arms around me and held me close. It may have lasted only a moment, but it was a moment that has been revisited over and over in my mind for twenty years now…and I get warm all over every time I remember. *smile*

There are a list of firsts for all of us…some evoking emotion, some provoking thought, some sweet and pleasurable, some not so much, which is where I am going with this today. As I was getting ready for my day, I watched Good Morning America for a few minutes. They were running a clip of a teenage girl being attacked by another teenage girl. Now, when I say “attack”, that is exactly what I mean. The girl who was attacking the other girl shoved, punched, slapped, kicked, knocked down, kicked some more, and then stomped, yes stomped, the other girl’s head on the pavement. This was shocking enough, however, there were two “security guards” standing there doing absolutely nothing. NOTHING! The girl was lying at their feet, no exaggeration, and they did nothing. When interviewed, the “security guards” said they were “not allowed to intervene”. Ok. Maybe not intervene as security guards, but what about intervening as a human being????

I sat on my bed and the mirror I was holding, dropped. I could not believe what I was seeing. I cannot believe that I am even writing about something like this happening. What year is this??? What has become of us as a society? Let’s be cliché, even, and ask…”what has this world come to?”

My stomach dropped as I saw this drama unfold. I don’t know what the deal was between these two teenage girls. I know I have been in the position where I wanted to slap somebody. Actually, I understand that feeling more often than I like…but I don’t follow through with it. What happened within the mind of those TWO “security guards” that NOT intervening was the best decision? They were in uniform and policy prohibits intervening. Ok. Take off your rent-a-cop-reflective-neon-yellow-traffic-vest and step up. What exactly are you “security guarding” anyway? This was someone’s child, for God’s sake! What is going on? How is this an ok decision made by not one, but TWO men?

When do you stop being an employee and start being human?

Maybe the girl deserved it. What??? Well, maybe she did. Maybe she, in her wealth of knowledge accumulated in her “X” number of teen years, led her to do something stupid or harmful or mean. I don’t know. Remember those boys who threw gasoline on the other boy and then set him on fire? Maybe this girl did something like that and “deserved” getting beat up. At some point, though, did she deserve having her head stomped into the pavement? That just seems a bit extreme to me. Maybe along the lines of two wrongs not making a right… I don’t know. Call me crazy but I cannot justify gratuitous violence…in fact, I have a difficult time accepting any violence. Man’s inhumanity to man. I could get on my soapbox about boxing, but I won’t…but I could…I totally could. Let me just say this because it is killing me not to… The point of boxing is to render the opponent unconscious. Being unconscious means your brain has suffered a traumatic and dangerous blow which could possibly result in a chronic debilitation or your death. This is 2010. Boxing, cage fighting, trying to render someone else such damage or agony that they cannot continue is not a sport.

Deep breath…

My kids get very upset with me when I “intervene”. They get scared or worried for me that I may be dealing with someone who would just as soon stomp my head into the ground for butting in. They have valid concerns. I also cannot help myself sometimes. Standing idly by makes me an accomplice and I will not watch and do nothing. I do believe I would be able to protect myself if an altercation proved immediate…or am I convinced that someone would step up and help me?

Well, both are quite possibly wrong. Actually, I know for a fact I would not be able to protect myself. The most vicious attack I know is that of words with my mouth. As for someone intervening to help me? Well, after today’s lead story, it does not appear so, does it?

So, what does all this mean? Are we becoming so desensitized as a society that watching someone get pummeled does not make us try to stop it? Have we become so hardened that we purposefully turn the other way to not risk injury to ourselves? What about our heart and minds? What about injury and damage to those? Are we to walk away in silence and feel no regret or remorse for not trying to help? What is our responsibility as human beings to one another? What is our responsibility to ourselves?

Yet again, I have no answers. I can only do for myself what I can live with. In other words, I am sure my children will be upset with me for butting in before too long. However, there is a chance that they will recall the time that we were driving from, guess where, WalMart, and saw two teenage boys kicking and punching and stomping another teenage boy on the sidewalk. They were just over the crest of a small hill, so we could not see them until we were right up on them. I saw them, checked my rear view mirror, and turned the car around. The next time I came up on them, I was ready. I turned on my flashers and told my kids to get down in the back seat. They were about 12 and 10 years old and both felt frightened for themselves, not just the boy getting beat up, which was natural. I told them to be quiet as I put the passenger side window down and began yelling at the boys.

“Come get in the car right now! I will take you to your home! The police are on their way! The police are coming!” Of course, the police were not coming because I had not called them, but those brats didn’t need to know that. Long story short, the two thugs took off running and the boy getting beat up struggled to his feet. I asked him again, to get in the car and I would take him home. He declined saying he was fine and didn’t need a ride, then he jumped the fence and limped on his way.

My kids were scared but not so much by my actions as much as by what they had seen. As we discussed what had just happened, they both confided in me that seeing such a thing was upsetting to them. They were confused as to how people could beat up someone in broad daylight on one of our major city roads. They were scared that this was how life was going to be when they became teenagers. They were just plain scared. At first, they were upset with me, as well. They were concerned that I had put our safety in jeopardy and maybe I had, but I didn’t think so. I still don’t. I have found that standing up to a bully usually makes them back down, and that was what I did. Not to make a point or drive home some life lesson but rather to stop a beat down. As a mother, how could I drive by and not do something? Not try?

How could those two security guards do nothing?

If it were my child, I would want someone to intervene. I would want someone to take the risk and step up. I would want someone to not worry about their job and just do the right thing.

Watching those two security guards do nothing makes them cowards. If either of them had stopped the violence, if they had intervened at all, they would be considered a hero. Imagine if one of them had taken off the glow-yellow vest thus rendering themselves “off-duty”, stopped the attack, picked up the girl, carried her to safety and sought medical attention…

I guess there is a fine line between heroics and stupidity and I do walk a fine line…but I would rather be a stupid hero rather than an enabler…who did nothing.

Yeah, some “firsts” are better than others but they all contribute to who we are or shall become, don’t they? Having cancer is changing me…I feel brave…and that’s a first.