Lack of judgement

When it’s near zero with a gusty wind, it’s hard to think, let alone use good judgement.  I’d gotten out of my toasty warm car, pulled up the black hood on my coat and started toward my office building when a voice called out, “Hey, you trying to look like a rag-head?”  The voice startled me; I kept walking.  A few replies came to mind…few that would frost any politically-correct kind of thinker.  But if I’d thrown back an ice-ball remark, I’d have been in the same low tolerance zone as the guy who made the comment, wouldn’t I?  I shrugged it off until I was inside, warm again.  I’m not the least bit in favor of policing everything that is said…this politically correct nonsense has gotten out of hand.  To the max.  We’re afraid of offending any insect or ameba.  There are times when we need to take a stand, speak the truth, not be afraid to define a situation, an act or a careless remark for what it is.  A spade is a spade.  My Jewish friends, my black friends, my white friends all have something to say about the who, what, why they are what they are–it’s not always nice, polite, politically correct.  As it is, I don’t have any ‘rag-head’ friends…not that I know of anyhow.  I have no idea how they define each other.  And I don’t care.  For now, they wouldn’t be on my most favored culture list.  However, I do have a few aquaintances that are truly ignorant when it comes to verbalizing their feelings…or is it dumb when you know something is wrong but say it anyhow?  Either way, the rag-head thing didn’t bother me.  It made me think about all the stupid things we say and do.  I laugh on occasion at some rather funny, stupid things…granted they may be racially, culturally, religious, sexually oriented…but funny is funny.  I’d rather laugh at the jokes we make about each other than act out in violence against one another.  Don’t tell me jokes lead to violence..only a small percentage of the mankind turns violent and for a swell of irrational, rational reasons.  So…when it comes to judgement…sometimes we have it, sometimes we don’t.  When I left the office, I covered my head again…rag-head that I am … and hoped the freezing temperature had been kind to my car’s engine.  It was.  As I pulled out of the parking area, I saw the guy who had questioned my attire earlier in the day.  He was shoveling the snow away from a car that had slid into a ditch.  Cold, nasty work.  The car belonged to a person of another race, another station in life.  The fashionista, critic of winter attire was working like a dog.  Throwing snow high over his shoulder.  I figured it wouldn’t be long until the car was freed from the snow bank.  I waved at the man as I slowly passed.  No need to jump out and help–no boots, no shovel in my car. I gave him a thumbs up.  He smiled and waved back.  He looked like he cared a lot about freeing the stranded motorist, I thought.


About wilaemerson

writer, golfer, traveler, food junkie, dieter--serious life: prescription drug advisor (RN/BSN)
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