Quentin Tarantino and Me

 Today, I did something I've thought about for a long time. I took the Meyers Briggs personality test. Overall, I'm happy with the results, though it was spooky how right they were about aspects of my personality. Friendly, diplomatic, intuitive and feeling, with 65% assertiveness, and 35% turbulence. I sound like bad weather.

But how in hell did I end up in the same category as Quentin Tarantino? Yes, like most people, I have a dark side. But I've never wanted to set someone on fire, or shoot someone in the face, or... Actually, I haven't seen all of his movies, so I have nothing really to compare it with. I did see Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, which was enjoyable until things took a turn for the worse in the swimming pool. 

I like to carry spiders outside and I have minimal tolerance for violence. I cry during TV commercials about families and dogs. I listen to the news everyday, but only on the radio for a short time because I want to be informed but bad news weighs on me. I don't think bad news weighs on Quentin. Maybe I've misunderstood his message, though.

The test also mentioned Robin Williams and Robert Downey Junior. I can see similarities to Robin, in that sometimes I don't know when to stop with a joke, and really need someone to take me by the arm and say, 'That'll be enough, now.' I get the feeling that his family probably felt the same way from time to time. 

I don't know anything about Robert Downey Junior except that he's an actor, and I have never wanted that life for myself. In choir, I prefer to hide in the dark with the other altos who like singing and don't want the spotlight. I'm comfortable speaking in public, but acting? Never. If I was in a concentration camp and that was my task, I guess I'd do it. 

My assigned role in the 'Campaigner' category is that of diplomat. While it's true that I'm friendly, (to a fault, I tend to frighten people on the street or have strange men at writer's conferences think I'm hitting on them. I'm not.) My hello's can be a little over the top, though. And I'm not always diplomatic. Occasionally, there is no room for a foot in my mouth because my other one has already taken the spot. When my husband got a call that he had to go to Winnipeg for radiation treatment, the first words out of my mouth were, 'I guess I'm going to miss choir again.' Seriously. My brother in law Brent was a witness. He was astounded. It didn't help when I said, 'I didn't mean to say that out loud.' Now, I loved my husband deeply. But... yeah. No excuse for that one.

Also, I can be a little hot headed. (Perhaps this is where Quentin and I meet!) So if I took a job as a diplomat, I'd last two days, max. If I was the Canadian diplomat to China, I'd be in prison within six hours. I have strong feelings about social justice and clear ideas about right and wrong. This can lead to me coming across as a bit judgmental. As one of my daughters said, "Settle down, Lady Catherine De Bourg.' (If you haven't read Pride and Prejudice, never mind. And I'm not judging you for that, okay?)

For those of you who want to give it a try, here's the link.

https://www.16personalities.com/

Let me know where you land. But only if you want to. (I'm not bossy. So there's that.)

It's Not Just You, Pepe, It's Me

 Dear Pepe Le Pew,

I had a conversation with my daughter this morning that helped put things in perspective. In her delicate way, Hilary pointed out that I seem to be having a few anger issues. Every time we talk, I give her an earful about whatever is ticking me off at the moment. I'm not necessarily apologizing to you, dear cartoon skunk from my childhood. I'm just admitting I might have overreacted the teensiest bit. 

Having said that, you're too old to go around grabbing female cats or skunks, or anyone, really. You must be in your eighties by now. I know you're being forced into retirement, which probably hurts your feelings. But after all your futile efforts, you really deserve a rest. And you deserve the truth, so here goes.

1. On March 28th, it will be the third anniversary of my husband's death. I guess I'd rather throw mud around than think about that. Although I will think about it.

2. Covid, I'm so tired of you. The masks (yes, we should wear them) the distancing, the lack of hugs, not understanding what people are saying, being too friendly with a perfect stranger because I think I know them, not heading out of town to visit family, zooming instead of seeing people in the flesh. 

3. The snow is leaving early this year. I've loved my outdoor winter life and it has all but disappeared. Yes, I can still go for walks. But it's not the same as snowshoeing and skiing. I'd meet people out on the trail and it was like we were all riding the same train to Paris, drinking wine and taking in the sights. There is no train. Just a trail. And a few shots of whatever hard stuff people had on hand. And I realize that an ounce of whiskey in the bush during Covid might be considered the equivalent of drinking under a bridge in normal times. Basically, an act of desperation. But these are desperate times. And standing distanced from friends and saluting them with a tiny beverage feels so normal and wonderful. Like a trip to Paris with good friends, some beautiful scenery and occasionally, cold feet.

4. Losing friends during Covid and not being able to do anything about it. Not attending their funeral, not providing any comfort, or even seeing their families in any real way. Also, not visiting seniors in nursing homes for such a long period of time.

5. Not being my cheerful self. It's my thing. I'm generally a happy person, and right now I feel like the dark avenging angel on my shoulder is whispering bad things to me. Not to kill anyone or even rob a store. Maybe just hurt a few people's feelings. So if I've done that, yeesh. Sorry. 

 I know we're all (well, most of us) excited about getting the vaccine and resuming our lives. But feel free to add your own moments of loss if you've had any during this time. I don't want to be the lone whiner. And I promise (shut up, dark angel!) to put my best foot forward from here on. I feel so much better! Do you?  

What's It All About, Pepe?

I hardly ever use rubbing alcohol these days. The bottle I found in my bathroom cupboard this morning had expired back in 2007. How can alcohol go bad? Is it the rubbing part? 

My husband had inherited a bottle of Mezcal that his father bought in Mexico in the early seventies. When my niece and a family friend were helping us move, he insisted they take a shot at the end of each day. They did, gamely avoiding the dregs of a disintegrating worm drifting around the bottom of the bottle. Like his dad, Clarence didn't like to waste things. I said hell, no! to the drink on offer. Were these young people more game than me, or just too polite to say no?

I'm not alone in feeling out of touch with life these days. I had to stop someone on the street a few days ago because I thought it was Tuesday, but it was still Monday.  The woman and I exchanged looks of deep understanding. These groundhog days are getting tiresome. 

I feel out of place in other ways. Every time a 'that's so bad!' label is slapped onto a person, program or book, my knee jerk reaction is one of shock. It takes time for my brain to process how things I take for granted might look to younger generations. After I think about it a while, I usually get it. 

It took me a while to understand the fuss over Laura Ingalls Wilder's, Little House on the Prairie series. They were beloved in my family, and read to each of my children. But I never noticed the dehumanizing effect of her stereotypical view of Indigenous and black people, because I am white. One book opens with her saying that the land was empty and ready for settlement, except for the Indians who didn't count. How could I not notice that? I believe the books can still be read to children, but there needs to be some discussion about the racist aspects. I believe if the author was alive today, she would write those parts differently. Her characters were kind and tenderhearted, but she was a woman of her time. When we know better, we do better.

I'm a woman of my time, still clueless about cultural offenses and worried that I'll say the wrong thing. I don't like to hear bad things about people, and have grieved the loss of those like comedian/actor, Bill Cosby. We're all saddened by the actions of characters who turned out to be different than we thought. I go through periods of denial and disbelief for days after the wrong doing is uncovered. These people enter our lives and homes via screens, radios and books. We know them well. Or, we thought we knew them.

One of the latest 'Get the Hell Out of Here,' victims is the cartoon character, Pepe Le Pew. Like many kids of my generation, I enjoyed all the Bugs Bunny characters: Yosemite Sam, Foghorn Leghorn, Daffy Duck and Wiley Coyote. (Actually, I hated that last one and wanted him to die every single show. He never did.) But when I think about Pepe Le Pew, I remember how I felt as a little girl. The show was funny, but not. I felt claustrophobic at times, knowing that this female skunk could not escape him for long. Her visible 'no' didn't mean no to Pepe. A friend on Facebook recently said that she knew it was just a cartoon. I did too. But as a lifelong member of over-empathizers anonymous, I felt bad for that anxious skunk girl. I imagined how I'd feel if someone I knew, a boy I didn't like, was always trying to catch me and kiss me. Or worse. Who knows what Pepe had in mind?

A movie that is not in trouble, but that I dislike for the same reason, is Mash. A huge hit, I saw it in my first year of high school. At one point, an unlikeable female character, Margaret 'Hot Lips' Hoolihan, prim and condescending, gets taught a lesson. While she's taking a shower, two doctors (good looking, popular, funny) play a trick on her by pulling down the walls of the tent and exposing her to everyone walking by. Cue the laughter and her running away in tears. 

As the people around me laughed until they wept, I found myself curling up into a ball in my seat. I couldn't imagine how it felt to be her. She's already unpopular. I knew people like her in high school. Those who weren't likeable and couldn't figure out why. She became a target. In the TV series, her character is fleshed out and allowed to be three dimensional. But not in the movie. Not as I remember it. 

So, as a member of the public, I would like to nominate Mash to be cancelled, culturally. This will not be a popular opinion, but I don't care. You're all big enough to handle my opinion, and inside me is still the fifteen year old girl cringing on behalf of a naked woman who had nowhere to run. 

When I was young, I disagreed with my parents about many things. They were good people with strong values, but like their generation, held traditional beliefs. Of course, baby boomers made it their business to disagree with almost everything that came before them. But as they aged, they got that same, set in their ways attitude. I remember telling my dad that Jesus believed in communism. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Today's Boomers, especially the more conservative among us, are struggling with what we perceive as the lunacy of the younger generations. But it's their right and their responsibility to make the world better in a way that makes sense to them. And what moves us in the right direction more than being thoughtful about the feelings of others? This is what many of today's movements, even cancel culture, is about. 

I'm going to try to repress my knee jerk reactions when I read or hear things I don't agree with. I'm a white, middle class woman trying to understand the pain others experience when their culture or race is diminished by mean spirited jokes or outright violence. Things that were considered funny in the past were often a socially acceptable form of bullying. So the next time you disagree with something you see regarding cancel culture, check your heart. Are you genuinely right, or just unwilling to let the joke go?