Month: February 2010
The “Madman” in Austin
Posted on February 23, 2010 in Hatred Journalists & Pundits Stigma Terminology Terrorism
If I start threatening these people with violence or if I bomb their homes and offices, you may call me a terrorist, too.
Koro of the Mind
Posted on February 22, 2010 in Anxiety Reflections Stigma
This has been so bad in some regions that government sound cars have been dispatched to assure people that there is no such illness and that their fifth appendages are just fine.
Facebook Fan Page
Posted on February 22, 2010 in Site News
This blog now has a Facebook fan page at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pax-Nortona/318862335204
Note that you will receive links that do not appear here on the blog, mostly pertaining to mental illness and the brain.
A Goy Named Joel
Posted on February 18, 2010 in Hatred
He said: “Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I’m the son-of-a-bitch that named you “Sue.'”
The dragon-scaled back ring of the telephone invited one of my dorm mates into the hall. He then knocked on my door and I began the conversation. The rabbi for the Claremont Colleges had seen my name in the Pomona College directory and wondered why I hadn’t been coming to synagogue. I chuckled slightly and said “Well, it’s because I’m not Jewish. I was raised Roman Catholic.” He took it in good stride, said a few jovial words, and let me go back to my homework. It made for an interesting anecdote for sharing around the dinner table in the days to come.
A couple of weeks ago on Facebook, someone saw my name in a political discussion and began excoriating me for Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians. I told the miscreant that he had no clue who I was and what I was about and left it there. It was only after a week of letting the incident mellow inside a fold of my brain that I realized that he’d made the same mistake that the rabbi had made: Joel Sax had to be Jewish.
When accused of it now, I tend to answer the taunt as Charlie Chaplin once did: “I don’t have the honor.” In my life, I have also been accused of being gay. My wife can confirm that I am not. A different tale deserves to be remarked upon here: once in my freshman year, I went to the school counseling center after hours because I was fringing on suicidiality. I happened to walk in on a meeting of the Gay Student Association. A young man pulled me aside and listened to me — without trying to seduce me or win me over to the cause ((so there, homophobes)) . That little piece of kindness mattered a lot to me then and I also recalled how it felt to be hounded for being gay even though I was not.
I’ve come to the conclusion that to be the object of hatreds for which I am undeserving has given me a unique insight into the pointlessness of racism, antisemitism, homophobia, etc. All that venom arises for no good reason at all as far as i can see. Perhaps it is an experience that more people need to go through. It’s easy to be outraged for being hated for the things that we can be rightly classed at, but you don’t get the absurdity of it as it affects others until you have been hated for that which you are not. I think most Americans live pleasant little lives in which they are never challenged by finding themselves outside their group of comfort. I see myself as having been blessed or lucky. All this experience has made me more compassionate and strong. Dare I pity those who have no clue?
Knifeblade Ridge
Posted on February 7, 2010 in Hiking
The clearing of the two-day long storm made a walk along the skyline beyond our condo complex seem like a good idea and it was. Drake was enthusiastic as he always is and I set myself a reasonable goal of a mile in along the Santiago Truck Trail to a gate and then back again. I felt good, so the temptation to take a side journey along a ridge running alongside and above the main track got the better of me. And this wasn’t a bad idea either. The slope to the top wasn’t bad. I wasn’t winded or dizzy when I arrived at the cairn whose cross had been burned out by the fire. The slope down the other side required a little careful footwork, but the one time I slipped I was able to catch a burnt branch of something or other to brake my fall. My dog loved it. He dashed ahead and then back again, checking the landscape to our right, listening as I called to him to stop or come back for one of the biscuits I held in my left hand.
Then we came to it. The trail narrowed or rather the hill narrowed. Where we had had an ample ten feet on either side of the track before, there were now only inches. I looked ahead. Drake stood on about twelve inches of ridge. I found my body starting to shake. Don’t look down were the first words and then I’m not going any farther. The wind wasn’t blowing very hard, but the ground was soaked. I could easily imagine the dirt — and that was all there was — giving way on either side. A hundred feet down on the left and a thousand on the right is my guess of my danger. So I did a pivot on the spot where I stood which was already too narrow — mark about two inches on either side. The fear shook my legs and I took the smallest steps until I was back on broader ground. Perhaps in manic days I might have traipsed along, but I had my wits about me. I went back the way I came, the distance of about a third of a mile of backtracking.
The slope that I slipped on proved hard. My head and chest pounded by the time I reached the top, so I sat on one of the stones circling the cairn. Doggy thought this the finest of adventures and stood close to me, eager to get moving again. I caught my breath and then took an easy slope down to the main trail. Lynn waited for us at the parking area. I didn’t want to discuss the precipice or my terror.
