Irish day

I don’t understand how St. Patrick’s Day has gotten equated with getting drunk. But then again, to be fair, every holiday in America is equated with that.

Cinco de Mayo and St. Patrick ’s Day are both ethnic holidays where people who aren’t even of that ethnicity get roaringly drunk. People who don’t even know anything about the culture before they start to drink get so bombed that they don’t even know anything about their own culture by the time they are done. But it isn’t just these holidays. New Year’s, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Memorial Day – you name it, if there is a holiday, Americans are drinking to it.

Perhaps we collectively have a holiday problem. Perhaps we are just so wound up from our jobs and our families and our lives that we have to escape, at least mentally, every time there is a holiday. Perhaps we need to create lives that don’t need to be escaped from. This doesn’t mean we need to get a better paying job or a bigger house or more friends. This means we need to start appreciating what we have now.

I’m reminded of the story in Exodus, of the Israelites escaping from Egypt. They were slaves in Egypt, but now they are free. They are grumbling to Moses about how they don’t have any food in the desert. They say they were better off in Egypt, that at least they had meat. Right now they have almost nothing, just this crazy manna that shows up every morning. It isn’t what they want. It is filling, and it provides energy, but it is boring. They complain, and Moses complains to God. God thinks they are ungrateful and sends enough quail that they are up to their knees in the birds. They gorge on the quail and get very sick. They never ask for meat again. It doesn’t mean that they don’t ask for anything else – but on that, they’ve learned their lesson.

To me, St. Patrick’s Day is about celebrating the persistence of the heart of Celtic life amidst adversity. The Irish suffered greatly at home and in America a century ago. They were the “immigrant problem” of the time. To be Irish is to endure despite hardship, and to keep your Self intact amidst a culture that wants you to assimilate.

This is something that transcends culture and ethnicity. For all of us who are staying true to your inner Being and not yielding to a culture that tells you to buy more, be mindless, to not care – you are Irish, regardless of your ethnicity.

St. Patrick’s Day isn’t a drinking holiday. It is a holiday about persistence and endurance. It is an Exodus story. It is about finding a safe place to be. Let us remember everything we have gone through to get where we are. Let us not make “here” another “there” that has to be escaped from.

Ring – getting hit on at the library.

I wear a wedding ring for a reason, but it doesn’t seem to mean much to some people.

I was at work yesterday and a patron came in who has been a regular for the past few months. He is in his mid 60s, weighs around 250 pounds, and gets only movies. He also reeks of alcohol. He smells so much of it that it is obvious that even if he isn’t drunk at that moment, he is drunk often enough that it is just part of his body chemistry now.

It was single digit weather, and he was wearing just a long sleeve shirt and overalls. He didn’t feel the cold, because the alcohol had numbed him.

He worked up the courage to ask me if he could see my hands. He said that he is a palm reader. Sure. Why not? So I gave him my hands and he decided that they said I had two children.

Nope, unless you count jewelry and writing. They are certainly creative outlets I have, and I put a lot of energy into them. But I don’t think that is what he meant. I already know that this is going to be weird from that start, but I let him continue. I’m curious by this point.

He goes on, with some vague things and nothing specific. I think if you want to know about somebody you’d be better off asking them than looking at lines in their palms, but it was making him happy. Meanwhile I’m breathing very shallowly because he smells so strongly of alcohol.

I let him do this because it afforded me a chance to see a different side of him. Sadly, I got to see more than I wanted. One day I’ll remember that being friendly is often seen as being a friend.

At the end he said that he’d wanted to read my palms ever since he met me, but just wasn’t brave enough. He mentioned that he was glad he finally did.

He left and then came back. His car wouldn’t start and he’d called a friend. He was going to wait in the library. I could tell that he wanted to talk more to me, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I have work to do, and I really wasn’t getting anything out of this interaction. Plus, again, the smell. I started getting books to check in and putting them up. This kept me from constantly being at the desk. He didn’t quite catch the clue so I suggested he go look for more things to check out while he waited for his friend.

He left again, and again came back. This time he said “I wonder if it would be too forward to ask you out to dinner sometime?”

Really?

I said my usual line for this “I think my husband would have a problem with that.”

Not to mention me. What would I get out of spending an hour or so with this man? He’s old enough to be my father. He’s an addict. He doesn’t even read. Totally not my type.

I can see why he’d want to be with me, but why would I want to be with him?

I study human nature, sure. There’s that. But I like going to the zoo, where the animals are in their cages and safely away from me. I don’t invite them in my home. I don’t go out on safari to find them either. So no, I’m not going out to dinner with him.

How could he not notice the ring? I wear only one ring. It is gold. It is plain. It is on the proper finger. There is no ambiguity about it.

He had my hands right in front of him and he still didn’t get it.

Or maybe he did and he just doesn’t care.

Things will be awkward between us for a while. He was embarrassed. That is obvious. But will he even remember? Who knows how much he can retain these days. He’s pretty pickled.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been hit on at the library. It is always by older men. Sometimes when I remind them that I’m married they say things like “That doesn’t matter in my crowd.” Uh, it matters to me. If I was into that, I wouldn’t have gotten married.

Some ask me out and they have just met me. They don’t even know my name. They don’t know anything about me other than I am female.

Do they go hunting with birdshot? The wide dispersal pattern has to hit something, right? If they ask everybody out, they’ll eventually get lucky.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking that I’m really glad to be out of that rat race.

It isn’t about finding just anybody. Most of it is being OK with yourself first. I want to ask these guys, would you date you? Really? If not, then work on that first. Get sober. Get healthy. Develop a hobby. Be interesting. Don’t be desperate.

Because women can smell desperate the same way they can smell the fact that you’ve been drinking yourself to sleep every night since your wife left.

And any woman who says “yes” to that isn’t worth having.

10 o’clock on a Tuesday

We get a lot of people who are drunk at the library. Back when we opened at 9:30, it was very common that we’d see them at 10 on a Tuesday morning. Now that we open at ten there isn’t a set time. They come whenever. Early morning, late afternoon, evening. Any day. Why it was 10 on a Tuesday before is anybody’s guess.

They are so far into their cups that they smell of alcohol all the time. Even if they aren’t currently inebriated, they have been enough so over the course of the last month (or year) that the poison is coming out of their pores. You can smell it in their sweat. You can smell it when they exhale.

It is one reason why I dislike summer at the library. You can smell it more. In the summer, people sweat more. In the winter, even if they sweat they will often wear a coat and that provides a shield of sorts.

It is a reason I like the fact that the counter is as deep as it is. I’ve got a good 2 feet of Corian between me and them. But then I’d rather smell body odor than smell most perfumes. Body odor doesn’t trigger my asthma.

People who smell of alcohol almost always get videos. They will get the maximum number of videos as often as possible. Some come in every few days, turn in ten videos, and then get ten more. Just movies and TV shows – no documentaries. Nothing educational. I’ve only noticed one person get books who is inebriated.

I don’t know what any of this means. I just know that it is so common that it is cliché now.

I suspect there are many other people who have substance abuse issues who come into the library. I suspect they are better at hiding it. There is something about alcohol that it really smells when it comes out of the body. Sure, I can smell the people who smoke really cheap cigarettes, and those who reek of pot.

Alcohol and DVDS seem to go hand in hand. It is so cliché that if I see someone who only gets movies, and gets the maximum allowed several times a week, I wait to see if they come in with any signs of drinking.

What causes what? Is the drinking first, or the excessive movie watching? Are both symptoms of the same thing?

Kindergarten 10-2-13

I had the same three students today that I’ve had the past few weeks, just in a different order. They still think I’m picking them – and I still keep insisting that I’m just following the list that I was given. I don’t want other students to think I’m ignoring them. They just don’t need me. Every now and then I’d like to work with a higher-level student to get some perspective. There just isn’t time, though.

S was cheery as always. He just needs a lot of practice. Nothing unique happened with him today. I’m just grateful that he understands me and talks to me in English (mostly). This is not always the case. Sometimes it is half the year before a non-English-speaking student will even start to get that we all aren’t speaking gibberish to him.

J wanted me to show him the letters to use to spell out the word we were working on. I’ll do a lot to help them out but that isn’t helping. That is doing all the work for him. I’d already said the word out loud and sounded it out. Nothing. I then asked him about the first letter of the word, sounding just it out. Still nothing. I then told him what the letter was, hoping he could find it on the board. Nope. Nada. Zilch. We then went through the whole alphabet, letter by letter, and he couldn’t find it.

I changed to another activity. It is best to try something different than stick with the same thing and get a student frustrated. Part of this is practice, and part is building up their confidence. I don’t ever want to frustrate them so that they don’t want to learn. It is important to me that they associate school with fun. But there is also work involved. I can’t do it all for them.

We changed to sight words and he did passably. He got really frustrated that he didn’t recognize some of them, which makes sense since he still does not recognize his letters. I pointed out that this isn’t a test, we are just practicing.

I switched to something else. I had some simple books to read and let him pick one. One of the books had a picture of two people playing checkers. I asked him if he had played that game and he said he had but he lost. I mentioned that it is all about being a good winner and a good loser.

He recoiled at that. “Good loser?!” (Insert interrobang here) I might have just as well said it was ok to walk on your hands all the time. It is amazing how competitive five year olds can be. I’ll tell a story about this from last year another time. Teaching kids how to play games fairly and be good sports is also part of my tutoring. This is just as valuable a skill as knowing your letters.

Then I went and got V. Quickly in, she asked who I needed next. Usually do need someone after her, but today she was last. I said “I need you” and gave her a smile. Her face completely lit up.

Isn’t this all we ever want to hear, that we are important, that we are special?

She talked a lot about her Dad and her Mom’s boyfriend, but not about her Mom. After the story from the teacher from last week that makes sense. Talking about Mom would be painful. I heard today from the teacher that Mom will be in the hospital for two months. This has to be a chronic problem.