Acid dripping onto my soul

                    Acid dripping onto my soul

In the normal course of a day, in the retiree’s world of Southwest Florida, you interact with men and women from many mid-western states. It can be a pleasant occasion, to share life’s experiences over drinks or dinner on a beautiful, sunny, Florida day.

Many of us come from diverse backgrounds and have differing opinions on politics and the events of the day. That is as it should be in this great free land of America. And most people are well-schooled in the niceties of social discourse. They know enough to avoid subject areas that are overly controversial and disruptive. 

That is, MOST people are. Unfortunately, there are others. The tactless will blurt out some ill-considered or controversial blurb, that can embarrass or discomfort everyone else present. On most occasions, the more gracious and socially adept will steer the conversation back to more secure grounds. “What are you doing for dinner?” “How did you play golf yesterday?”

It can be a chore to steer around the tactless. In other areas of their life, they may be a loving grandparent, thoughtful neighbor or prominent member of their community. But, then, they start with the “They” comments of blaming societal ills on “Them.” Whenever possible, I try to refute the more outrageous remarks with qualifying comments that politely suggest to the speaker that he or she might be in error in their factual array. Sometimes, it evokes an angry reply. Sometimes, a sullen silence. Older folks, especially financially successful ones, do not like being corrected in public, particularly by a younger person, however egregious and offensive their comments are.

I usually keep my mouth shut until I think that my silence is some how taken as acquiescence. Then, I say something, no matter what angry response it evokes. To sit there in silence, when bigots roll out their bile, is like feeling acid dripping onto my soul. I can’t and I won’t do it.

As you can imagine, there are not many times when our mail box is not full of golf or dinner invitations. Those anchored in archaic and negative mindsets are less than forgiving when corrected in public, especially by brash and rude “New Yorkers.”

I like to think though that there are many silent companions around me,  too timorous to contradict the verbal offenders, yet appreciative of those more voluble who say “No, that isn’t true.” When faced with awful remarks in public.

Whatever the case, I will never sit still in the face of bigotry. Silence in a very real sense is complicity. And, we already go to dinner and play golf enough already.

                                    -30-

                              (446 words)

                          Joseph Xavier Martin