The Golden Rule

I've always thought of myself as a considerate person, was raised to treat other as I'd like to be treated, which I took seriously growing up in an Irish Catholic household. But it wasn't until I got sober at 25 that I really learned what it meant to be considerate of another person. Sure, I knew how to be nice and how to be kind, be it opening the door for someone, holding an elevator, buying a donut for the homeless man sitting outside the donut shop. But truly being considerate is a different animal because it requires us to consider other as individuals as opposed to groups. Here's an example: If I was really being c0nsiderate of that homeless man, I might have asked him what he needed, if he needed anything, before I went in and purchased whatever I thought he might want. As a "homeless person" I figured he would be hungry and thirsty, and I may have been right, but as a person, given that he was outside a donut shop, I failed to consider that that might be the 10th donut he'd been offered that day. Maybe he could have used a couple bucks on his CTA card instead, who knows.

Now I know for a lot of people the idea of questioning any good deed seems bass ackwards. Like, hello? Isn't it enough to just do a good thing? And I would say for the most part, yes, however if we don't know how to be considerate in our actions, we are trying to help the "group" we assign that person to, not the person themselves. And that can be harmful because many times we never really know about a person unless we bother to ask them about themselves.

When we are considerate of others we are meeting them where they are at, as opposed to where we think they are at, or assume they are at. I recently had the most beautiful encounter that proved to me how important this can be and how it can allow for the most amazing communication between complete strangers. And it all happened at Aldi.

Now I don't know if you are an Aldi Nerd like I am, but if you know then you know. My local Aldi got a makeover in 2018 which completely brightened up the place, but unfortunately resulted in pretty much mass chaos as far as aisles and lanes go. Pre-makeover, Aldi was basically one long corn-maze of products that had one way to go--forward. And I totally appreciated it because it meant they could keep costs low. I didn't need all the frills, I just needed a decent selection and good prices.

Now don't get me wrong though, with the makeover it brought a brighter, cleaner feel and new and different types of products, but the headache of no discernible "flow" whatsoever was the unintended consequence. The day I chose to go shopping was one of the busier days, but I had no choice because we were having a Molly's birthday lunch that day. In a rush to get back as quickly as possible, I saw a chance to grab the butter I had forgotten the week before, right after the guy in front of me got out. Now I had seen out of the corner of my eye, a woman standing patiently waiting to my left, but I convinced myself she was waiting to get into one of the other refrigerators. As I turned my cart around to head to the cash register I saw her quietly step away from the cart after I left the refrigerator and thought "FUCK." That wasn't exactly intentional but that wasn't exactly cool on my part.

She didn't say anything, didn't react to me jumping in front of her but I know what it's like to be the patient person standing by while all the jerks jump in to take the turn that isn't theirs. So, trying to be considerate, I turned around and said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were waiting to get into that cooler." And she kind of stammered and waved me off but eventually said something about having been standing there trying to screw up the courage to stand up for herself but that she still had a hard time doing it.

And the absolute honesty of that confession just smacked me right in the face. It was so beautiful to me, but also so stunning to me because I know exactly where she had been, but would never have had the courage to admit that I wasn't strong enough to stand up for myself. At 36, it's been only a few years since I decided to stop standing down in situations where I should be standing up for myself. And I also knew how much courage it took to stand up yourself, even in small situations like that, having felt powerless for so many years of my life.

And, oddly, I was so PROUD of her. Like a proud mama bird. This woman I knew nothing about, except for the fact that she was trying, just like I was, to stand up for myself, to take back the power I had let be taken from me. And just a few feet from us, another woman, probably around the age of our own mothers, just standing there watching us, captivated by the moment of two young women baring a bit of their souls to one another in a show of solidarity. And then she complimented my boots and we had a quick laugh and went on our way. But I know that interaction left me uplifted and gave her a building block on which to build her foundation, so that standing up for herself will eventually be all she knows.

And, as much as I hate it, as much as it pains me to admit: You are the person I have to thank for this. And I guess maybe this is perfect timing. A goodbye letter, since people like me finally realized that we could no longer sit on the sidelines. That all of our destinies are tied up in one another. That injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. And if not me, who? And if not now, when?

We finally woke up and saw that the America that we were sold in textbooks, commercials, news programs and other places throughout our childhood and youth didn't really exist. It was the pretty version, the digestible version. The version of history, of truth, of reality that they could stand to remember. The version of reality that would explain why there were still high levels of poverty and crime in urban areas and why the suburbs were places where the "good" families, the "good" people lived.

So many of us found that the people we felt most resembled us were actually those we shared no blood relation to after you lied your way into office. You scared people enough to think that they had to protect themselves from someone, something else and if they weren't afraid already they were stupid. And you lied. And you lied. And you never stopped lying. And even more scary, you found people to lie for you. People who until then seemed completely logical, dependable, or at least sane. That's when things got scary. Still are. But we are much more powerful. We the people. The people who knew how dangerous you were for America from the beginning, or at least figured it out at some point over the last 4 years.

My mom always told me that when someone shows me who they are, that I should believe them. You showed us who you were and we believed you. And that's why we rejected you. Any illusion any rational person had about you being a "good businessman" or you "draining the swamp" was not only proven wrong it was lit on fire and pissed on to put out. You were everything I expected you to be and worse. I'm just lucky that I'm privileged enough to escape your presidency relatively unscathed. I can't say the same for many people I love.

But what I can say is never again. Never again will hate win over love. Never again will fear win over hope. Never again will darkness win over light. And as much as I hate to say it, as much as it pains me to admit: I have you to thank for that.

So in the words of the immortal Ariana Grande, "Thank U, Next."