Buffalo Gal

Just because we personally may know a couple of nice folks, most of us are pleasantly deluded with the idea that Americans are nice guys.
Torturing prisoners with big smiles and souvenier photos for Mom -- an aberration. The daily clawing, cheating and lying people do to keep their jobs or remove others -- an unpleasant little fact of life.
True, other than road rage and drive-by shootings, we're generally genial to each other.
But we rarely get to hold the mirror up to our own actions I've seen in watching my all-American white bread kin interact with people I love who don't fit that description.
It was officious when they asked me for ID in order to buy a drink at a concert and funny when they studied it carefully under the light (apparently needing to make sure I didn't alter the 9 in 1959 to an 8 in a desperate attempt to pass for 45 instead of 44.)
It was not at all funny when the same folks refused my friend's French photo ID card and her French driver's license insisting on a passport to buy an over-priced, under-juiced drink.
I wish the law permitted me to administer a non-lethal jolt to every clerk who has reached past my dark-skinned daughter in front of me to offer me service. Rather than be embarassed, they are invariably annoyed when they discover we are together.
A young man from England lived with us for a year in which I saw many our our Mayberry-type merchants, who smile and ask about your children by name, take advantage of his weakness in currency conversion.
I dread in advance the reaction we will get through the middle states as we travel up to New York tomorrow with our daughter and her Brazilian friend. No, they are not au pairs, maids or smugglers. I'll do my damndest to ignore the truck stop leers towards my grey-haired, blue-eyed husband and our entourage.
America's popularity problem in the world community isn't just about dropping bombs and invading folk (although it obviously wouldn't hurt to stop).
We are so convinced of our religious and political supremacy that we fail to see anyone else... or the simple fact that they are us.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (3) Share on Facebook		2004-08-05 8:27 AM What is THEIR problem? Just because we personally may know a couple of nice folks, most of us are pleasantly deluded with the idea that Americans are nice guys. Torturing prisoners with big smiles and souvenier photos for Mom -- an aberration. The daily clawing, cheating and lying people do to keep their jobs or remove others -- an unpleasant little fact of life. True, other than road rage and drive-by shootings, we're generally genial to each other. But we rarely get to hold the mirror up to our own actions I've seen in watching my all-American white bread kin interact with people I love who don't fit that description. It was officious when they asked me for ID in order to buy a drink at a concert and funny when they studied it carefully under the light (apparently needing to make sure I didn't alter the 9 in 1959 to an 8 in a desperate attempt to pass for 45 instead of 44.) It was not at all funny when the same folks refused my friend's French photo ID card and her French driver's license insisting on a passport to buy an over-priced, under-juiced drink. I wish the law permitted me to administer a non-lethal jolt to every clerk who has reached past my dark-skinned daughter in front of me to offer me service. Rather than be embarassed, they are invariably annoyed when they discover we are together. A young man from England lived with us for a year in which I saw many our our Mayberry-type merchants, who smile and ask about your children by name, take advantage of his weakness in currency conversion. I dread in advance the reaction we will get through the middle states as we travel up to New York tomorrow with our daughter and her Brazilian friend. No, they are not au pairs, maids or smugglers. I'll do my damndest to ignore the truck stop leers towards my grey-haired, blue-eyed husband and our entourage. America's popularity problem in the world community isn't just about dropping bombs and invading folk (although it obviously wouldn't hurt to stop). We are so convinced of our religious and political supremacy that we fail to see anyone else... or the simple fact that they are us. Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (3) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top