Weeping for the Nation

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I need to “get out” more, that’s all. It’ll be the solution to all my (blogging=What to Write About) problems.

Just got back from a brief trip to a “big box” home improvement store. . (Oh, know that it’s very cold here today, around 32F at 7AM.) Outside the exit was the ubiquitous vender-cart with the smell of frying onions – Yum. Since it was the north side of course it was total shade and therefore quite chilly, so offhand as I smiled at the lady wielding the spatula I said, “Bet you wish you were in the sun today, eh?”

All I got back was a blank stare. Was she deaf, I wondered? I repeated. The smile and the question/statement. Continuing blank stare. I’d already figured out the “problemo” midway of the second go at it: she’s a “enabled” Mexican. ENabled, NOT disabled; enabled by the political leeches all over this nation who made it possible over the last 2-3 decades for Mexicans to breech a non-existant border and settle into a lifestyle that precludes even a cursory understanding/facility with the “host” country’s primary language.

As the problemo dawned on me I spoke to(wards) her a third time, “No ha’-bla En-glace?” then turned and walked away without even seeing her response.

You know, I could have stayed and tried to come up with a few words in her language, beyond the “Sol” that managed to come first to my mind from the dusty high-school brain cells I’ve managed to retain, but why the Hell should I have to?

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