Lightning and the Lightning Bug

I was talking with a buddy a couple of days ago about the difference in having shame and being ashamed. I love this analogy. That's why I probably overuse it. But it's like what Mark Twain said about the right word and the almost right word. It's like the difference between lightning and lightning bugs.

The subject came up, 'cause we were joking about me being old-fashioned. I don't think I am. "Stodgy" is how I think my buddy put it. He was teasing, of course, but what prompted him to say it in the first place was our reminiscing about the good old days and one time in particular when we were at a black tie event trying to look important and pick up women. There I was in a tux, holding court with a handful of women, and my fly was down. Apparently I stood there like that for at least half an hour. When someone finally pointed it out to me I was mortified. It wasn't that I was ashamed of my naughty bits, covered behind a trusty pair of boxers as they were. I'm quite proud of them. It was that I had shame. Some stuff just wasn't meant for public display.

I'm not gonna be like the crotchety old guy who starts every other sentence with something like "In my day..." On the contrary, today, these days, when I'm in public I'm constantly getting jabbed and pinched by Mrs. B for saying stupid things. I do it on purpose, 'cause I thik I'm funny. I may be the only person who thinks so. And I'm also careful to make sure what I'm saying to her can't be overheard. If someone did overhear me, no doubt I'd be ashamed some times. But I don't think shame exists anymore. And shame can be a good thing, I think. Shame, to varying degrees, is like the manifestation of a properly working conscience.

I'm not seeing that manifestation so much these days among my peers, whether it's brain dead celebutards prancing around w/out drawers on and, coincidentally, bending over to pick up loose change from the sidewalk right when the cameras and flash bulbs come out, Joe Average swearing like a sailor within earshot of elderly women and small children, or 13-year-old girls strutting the mall in tiny skirts and T-shirts with slogans like "Your boyfriend is a good kisser" and "Two boys for every girl" (actual slogans on shirts once sold a popular national retailer for teens).

Mrs. B and I were in the grocery Sunday afternoon - the Whole Foods on Federal Hwy in Fort Lauderdale, if you live in South Florida, and while she was waiting for stuff at the deli I decided to grab a coffee. There was a guy in line in front of me at the coffee counter. And as I walked up, this is the conversation I stumbled on between that guy and the barista:

Barista: So what's going on?
Guy: Nothing, just looking for somone.
Barista: Is he hot?
Guy: You know that guy who works in like frozen vegetables or something, that one with the dark hair?
Barista: He's hot. I think he has something for you.
Guy: Oh yeah, sexy.
Barista: He totally wants to tap that.... (imagine the rest)
Guy: Oh yeah, you know he wants to tap my....
Me (in thought only): You guys are insane. Do you care at all that a total stranger is standing here, listening to you talk about this kind of stuff?

BTW, in case Rosie O'D is reading, if the guy had been straight and talking explicitly about hooking up w/a girl, or it had been a girl in line, talking explicitly about hooking up up w/a guy, I'd have felt the same way.

Shame's good. Shame is the thing that prevents most of us from "actin' a fool," in public, as my Grandma Rosa used to say.

And to the co-worker who paused mid-stride in the aisle about eight feet from my desk and let a butt belch rip earlier - that's right; you know who you are; I saw/heard you - not cool. You, my friend, could use a little shame. You could use a little less protein your diet, but you could use a little shame too.

It was a good day...again

I just had a train day (day when I do mass transit and don't drive to work), and I saw two of the coolest things I've seen over the past few weeks.

First, on the way to the train I saw a driver jibber-jabberin' on her cell phone (and yes, the driver really was a woman) at a freeway exit adjacent to the train station. She was waiting to turn right and either didn't see or didn't care that about the large sign above her traffic signal that read "No Turn on Red."

In typically Miami fashion she turned against the red anyway, causing an oncoming car to slow down dramatically to make way for her. Seconds later a motorcycle cop who sometimes stakes out that exit from under a nearby overpass turned on his sirens and lights and chased that numbnut down.

Yeah! The mouth breathers do get busted sometimes.

Second, while on the train I was doing my favorite commuting thing - reading a book. I'm on page 400 of Lawrence Sanders' The Second Deadly Sin. If you like old-school cop/murder mysteries this is a great one. And Sanders is one of the best. I'm a huge fan.

Anyway, I was reading, and I heard a young guy - maybe in his early 20s - about four rows up and across the aisle answer his cell phone and start talking. It's ironic. His subject matter wasn't bad. He was telling the person on the other line about how he was maturing and realizing that hot cars and hot clothes and hot tunes and hotter women weren't anything compared to stability in your life. He even cracked a joke about a friend of his with bad priorities who recently spent several hundred dollars on a new high definition radio, but that friend didn't even own a car to put it in.

The problem was this guy was really loud and every other word was a swear. Well, sitting right next to me was a woman with her grandson. He was probably six or seven. I know he was her grandson, because his mother had taken his other siblings to the upper deck so they could look out the windows.

After a few minutes of the phone call grandma calls out "Excuse me young man, I'm sitting here with a little boy. And he does not need to hear what you're saying or how you're saying it."

It took phone guy a second, but he realized what she meant. And would you believe it, he was embarrassed! He actually expressed shame, covered his mouth, stammered an apology, and carried on his conversation at a lower tone, minus the swears. And when he got up to exit the train at the next station, he stopped at grandma's seat and apologized profusely again.

Very cool. There's hope.

Also, my last post was one I started writing on Monday but didn't get around to finishing till today. So you may have missed it. It actually posted as two items ago. Give it a read. It's on a stupid political move in Florida.

Good even, and peace and hair grease. I'll post more tomorrow.