I spent the weekend with my kids, and I was pretty happy to have them over as usual. After a gorgeous summer and early fall, we’ve finally fallen back into the old pattern of sogginess and gray, but hey, that’s what they know, so it doesn’t slow them down outside. They collaborate in biology projects that involve trapping various land-based mollusks and arachnids, and then urge me to foster them because they know their mother would promptly fumigate the pests at her place. I oblige them for the time being, but then when they are gone I release the critters into the wild (proper conservationist that I am), and when the kids get back and ask for them I simply tell them I gave the animals “freedom,” although I’m sure their creepy crawly pets would be perfectly happy to abide in a perforated peanut butter jar given sufficient food.
On another note, when I took them back to Bellingham for the hand-off we had an edifying encounter with a beggar.
Those of us from proper cities will obviously be familiar with the “out of gas” routine. Typically, someone comes up holding an empty gas can asking for money, because they are out of gas and need just a few bucks to get to mom’s place, or wherever. In the cities, it’s usually pretty gruff fellows who don’t inspire too much sympathy. The softer sort of beggar generally gets rolled as soon as he/she has a few bucks in hand, so there’s a sort of streetside winnowing of the chaff.
However, in Bellingham, we have a “city” that is about 95% white and little more than an outpost in a rural environment. It’s safer than your typical East Coast suburb, and aside from a few skinny hippies downtown mainly populated by naive, “socially conscious” types.
So, having arrived a little early to the handoff, I took the kids to a fast food joint to buy them some soda pop (no, I don’t let them drink sugar water very often), and just as soon as I emerged a woman jogged up to me with a song and dance about needing money for gas.
She had no gas can, but she sure put on an act. She gave me the spiel, then started crying as best she could, totally interrupting me while I was trying to put mustard on my hamburger. I saw it for what it was immediately, but she caught me off balance because I was dealing with the kids, and also because it was Bellingham and it isn’t all that common there. As she squeezed a few crocodile tears out of her eyes, I told her to hang on while I applied the mustard. When finished, I asked “where’s your car?”
“I left it on the median with the lights flashing,” she replied.
Well, at least this girl could think on her feet…
As I was thinking about how to handle this annoying interruption, a middle-aged local woman came up and gave her five bucks.
I thought to myself that this woman had just bought the girl a few hits of crank off a broken light bulb.
I worked a bit on the burger, and finally said “well, I don’t really have any cash on me, but here’s some change,” handing her the 35 cents I had in my pocket.
Often, when bothered, you just give people some token to leave you alone. That’s what I did. I know it’s a cowardly way out, but I didn’t want more of a scene in front of the kids.
She took the change, knowing full well that I knew she was full of it, and walked off with a smirk. After that, I walked back to the car with the kids to wait for their mom.
At that point, I started to tell them that I didn’t believe the woman. My son was most impressed; my daughter seemed to instinctively distrust her and was not at all surprised that she was lying. Just as I started to point out why I thought she was lying, sure enough, she jumped into a running car not 30 yards away and drove off with some guy. I quickly pointed it out, and told the kids that sometimes people will lie to take your money.
My son was really quite interested in the lesson. He repeated it to me, as though it was quite the revelation. He also understood what had happened, even going so far as to say “you only gave her a little money because you knew she was lying.”
“That’s right,” I told him: “I just wanted her to go away.”
What it impressed on me was that so few men teach their kids that adults can be lying, manipulative sponges — even when they are women. Men seem particularly loathe to teach this to their sons, but from what I have observed it is their sons who need this lesson the most.
Of course, it isn’t always women who cheat and lie, but far too few young men are even aware that women are capable of doing this. They’ll be suspicious of a man asking for help, but they all too often open their pockets to any woman who shows up with a song and dance and a few fake tears.
I think it’s a cultural problem, and I think it’s changing. Nowhere else in the world can women get away with what they do here, and that’s evident from the spectacular liberties feminists have taken over the years.
Well, feminists, I’ve got some news for you:
Little boys listen to their daddies. The more you try to push their daddies away, the more thy’ll listen to them, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Come crying around asking for help in the future, and these boys will know just what you are.
Oh, and as for our daughters, they’ve already got your number. They know better than anyone that you’ve ripped off their patrimony, and they aren’t going to be all that well-disposed toward you for that.
