Random Thoughts From Rita

On the matter of playing close to the vest:

Image by Ian

The interesting times we currently enjoy have put me into a particular vein of thinking, of late. Extraordinary things are in the news so often, and with such hideous outcomes for so many people, that it’s impossible to not put oneself in the shoes of our neighbors from these stories and consider how we’d react in similar circumstances.

The truth is that as much as we may fear the extraordinarily awful circumstances, we’re more apt to be met with middlingly distressing situations, much as we’re not likely to have the misfortune to win an actual lottery with its attendant life-wrecking millions. Still, as we muddle along, we’re probably fortunate to never realize how close we came to disaster, mayhem, or even death. I am happy not knowing. But just because we’re most apt to live our lives in the fat part of the bell curve¹ doesn’t mean we shouldn’t consider how we’d react if met with either lottery-odds end of that construct.

Shortly after I moved to tiny town, I went for a walk one evening with Ian, as we often did. The sun had slipped below the horizon but there was enough light to see a fair bit around us. We walked along the street, holding hands and talking. We were walking north on a street with houses to our left and a park to our right. As we reached the end of the block where we had to turn west, we rounded the back end of a car parked on the curb by a culvert. We had never discussed this type of occurrence before, but we experienced a simpatico that was astonishing. We happened to be in lock step, and together we stepped one long stride past the bumper of the car, only to see a doddering skunk shambling out of the culvert, and well within striking distance, maybe seven or eight feet from us. We didn’t have time to say a word or for one of us to grab the other: we were smack-dab in the danger zone. Silently and with no signal, we each shifted smoothly onto our back foot and walked backward with a swiftness and purpose that would have impressed Bob Fosse. I think it couldn’t have been smoother if we had been planning it. It was remarkable because about a block later, we both had a bit of an adrenaline-infused edgy feeling. I still marvel that we both saw the threat at the same time and did the only sane thing. If we’d said even a word to startle the stink-kitty, I’ve no doubt it would have splashed the outrage of its species onto us forthwith. Instead, that odd little moment is just a curious memory and a funny little anecdote that sometimes, by accident, we are on the same page.

Another time when we were in Wallyworld, I was looking at canning jars when a sharp report rang from the other side of the store in the direction of the dairy cases. In that cavernous space, it could have been many things, but it also sounded enough like another sharp sound that signaled unfolding tragedy. Knowing I had my feminine protection on board, Ian touched my arm, we locked eyes, I nodded, and he went tearing off towards the noise. Fortunately, it was just a large package hitting the floor, but as an active LEO, he did the right thing. Kenny Rogers wasn’t wrong about knowing when to hold and when to fold: sometimes one has to fight when one is a man. Probably, sometimes one has to fight when one is a human. Had this been a real human-made tragedy, odds were that we were far enough that we wouldn’t have been in the line of fire, but he had a responsibility to rush to shut down mischief. Ian’s fearlessness impressed me, and it reminded me that my place is not cowering but to be in a state of relaxed readiness, sure of my own tools and my rights as a sovereign human being. I admire that lack of hesitation to jump into the breach to Shut Down Bullshit™.

Recently, I saw a mighty mother in that same Wallyworld. She had three well-behaved children, including a cart-perched baby that was having difficulty with a messy snack. Her shopping cart was heavy-laden with supplies and food, and she seemed to be preoccupied. I’d rounded a corner and walked up to her in the aisle, only to realize she was utterly unaware of me as I saw the handle of a Ruger at her belt that would have been far too easy for me to grab. I said nothing. She was a busy lady, seemed a serious sort, and I felt she was sending a signal with her open-carry choice: “if you push me, I’m pushing back with all the might I can muster.” God bless that mama bear. I hope she and her baby bears are safe and healthy for the duration. But I don’t think potential bad guys deserve the preview, and I question if it’s a deterrent, or would just make her into a prime target for removal when the feces hit the fan.

I keep thinking of the importance of stealth. In an emergent situation, the “bad guys” will take out those most likely to resist their assault, then take care of dispatching the less robust. I understand the urge to open carry, and in ranch country (which this is), it makes sense to opt for the convenience of a pistol or two on the hip, as well as a large knife. However, I consider it a matter of stealth that I can be a lady in a dress and heels and carry concealed. I figure that if I’m ever in the situation to need to put up a fight, a plump little over-the-hill hen will not draw much attention as a ne’er-do-well gauges which targets are the priority. I deem this to be a strategic advantage for the likes of me. In a pinch, it seems to me that a person who has blended in as a non-threat can fall back, blend with the scenery and choose their moment to unleash their own flavor of heck².

It’s difficult to prepare for the infinite array of variables that put us in perils both great and small. I don’t have all the answers. Someone like Ian is a good one to ask for advice, given that such men and women have been at the sticky, heartbreaking corner of unusual circumstances too many times to count. We can hope for a smooth, quiet retreat from the big, awful things upon which we stumble, but we also may have to step up our own big muscle to be part of what is going right in the world. We could have shot the skunk on the street that night, but that poor little varmint deserved a peaceful night, and we would surely have been covered in stink had we decided to stop the threat in an ultimate sense. We had the luxury to walk away from what was a seriously uncomfortable situation. A cool head prevails, and even in a split-second, we must be alert to our surroundings and make good choices, because we have to live with the consequences of those choices.

If you open carry, I respect your choice and your right. However, if you’re going to open carry, you can’t afford even an instant of inattention in public spaces. You do you, Boo. Just be aware that you’re sending more than one signal. How you respond to that is up to you, but I think that if nature gives you the advantage of looking like a sweet little thing that is there for the taking, why tip your hand and give someone an angle to grind on you? Stay soft and slippery, and let them be profoundly and grievously surprised.

But that’s just me.

Rita

1. Then again, maybe rather than a Bell Curve it’s more like the goat silhouette in the middle of a boa constrictor outline? Could be either, I suppose, but goat is delicious, and it’s good to be GOAT.

2. Be not mistaken: I may pack feminine protection, but even if I were not prepared in that way, if a bad guy ever comes for me, check my corpse’s fingernails, because I’m taking as much of his or her DNA (and eyeballs) as I can commandeer.