At Wal-mart Junior wanted me to go to the gun section with him. Anyone that knows my history knows where this entry is going. Junior knows this part of it too because I explained it to him when he kept trying to encourage me to go to the gun range with him. Because he knows he had no business taking the course of action he took.
It’s not as if I’d tell him he can’t go to that area because I’m deathly afraid of guns. I figured he could look for whatever he was looking for then it would be over but I sure as heck wasn’t going in that area with him. I went to the adjacent kitchen area. That wasn’t good enough. Junior came over to me with a gun wrack. He said it was the perfect thing to add to his truck to make it a hillbilly’s truck. I didn’t laugh. He started saying, “Come on, that’s funny. There isn’t a gun on it, it’s just a wrack. This is funny.” I told him I find no humor in guns and he should try his best to respect that. He started laughing and said it was at least a little bit funny that he’d try to look like a hillbilly when others go out of their way not to.
I was so angry that he again brought up the gun situation that I was silent. His face got really red which meant he was angry too that I’d be so sensitive about it. Seeing that he was angry with me I kicked into my typical mode of “Everything is okay.” I never said that but I began talking to him and joking around with him as if nothing happened. (Bad girl. I was a bad girl for making him angry. I should have just sucked it up. He isn’t’ going to like me anymore. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I say anything?) I just kept making him laugh and figured it helped enough that the subject would be dead.
When we got home I began putting my bags back in my area when he stopped me and said, “Come on, isn’t the gun wrack at least a little bit funny?” Enter Morton. He put the bags down carefully and got right up in Junior’s face, about 5 inches away. He didn’t go for eye contact he wanted to say it in his ear, calmly and in a near whisper.
Morton said, “How old is your son?”
Junior: “He’s eight.”
Morton “Now, I want you to do something for me. Picture your little boy, your child just one year old. He’s standing in front of a very tall and big man who has a gun to his head. He has to make a choice. He can be shot in the foot or in the head. Morton moved closer, “Is it funny now?” Morton paused and said, “Are we on the same page with this?”
Junior : Yeah
Morton: “Good. I don’t want to hear this anymore.”
Junior stood there until I walked away. Morton turned back with eye contact and said: I guess you know which choice I made.
Junior: The foot.
Morton: uh, huh
I stood so close to him because I wanted to invade his personal space and put him on the defensive. Why did I speak into his ear instead of look him dead in the eye ? I wanted to watch the hairs on the back of his neck. As long as they stood up I knew I got my point across. They stood up. …I got my point across.
J of A
Are We On The Same Page?-Wednesday, October 07, 2009 – 1:00PM EST
0 Responses to “Are We On The Same Page?”