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I’ve had that thought a lot. First worlders in a democracy tend to be complacent and assume that sure, there are scary things going on, but that could never actually happen to us.
Yes, it could. And it’s already happening- state laws against LGBTQ, abortion, book burnings, selective history lessons, no-permit gun ownership, tough guys strutting around in camo and AK47s.
At what point do people wake up and smell the coffee? People who get out of a place when they can see what’s going down can usually get out with somewhat intact lives- selling their home, packing up their possessions and resettling somewhere else. Those who prefer to wait and see can find themselves losing everything and making a mad dash to safety with nothing but a suitcase.
A lot of Jews got themselves out of Europe before Hitler started rounding them up. They could read the room. That’s the only reason I exist- my grandparents immigrated between the first and second world wars. The families they left behind perished at Auschwitz.
They had a lot of experience since they were run out of one place, then another, persecuted, outlawed, killed, converted. For them it wasn’t a matter of something they’ve never seen before.
And I guess I repeat myself but it’s not unheard of here. Slavery, indirect genocide (natives, Africans) outlawing groups (Chinese Exclusion Act), internment (Japanese), experimentation (Blacks, mentally ill and incompetent), eugenics, massacres (natives, blacks), unjust and illegal wars, I’m sure I’ve forgotten some. So I’m under no illusions about being protected.
Luckily since I have no dependents and virtually no family I have a lot more freedom. And I’ve often said that if I can’t flee they won’t take me alive.
We just delude ourselves that we are unassailable up here with our gate below, cliffs surroundings and tough neighbors. No one is safe, truly, but I prefer to choose no paranoia and peaceful relations with all for as long as possible.
Not here! But I asked my former neighbor, who works for a local wholesaler called Specialty Imports, hoping that he’ll be able to find it. They have unfortunately been out of that very nice Aurora oloroso for almost 6 months!
I have sometimes been gently laughed for the last twenty years or so because I had no desire to follow the then-current fashion of having a tattoo.
When asked why, I would say that I didn’t want any identifying marks, just in case. Maybe the people who found that amusing see it as being rather sensible now.
I began to make some noise about having a tattoo to my mom when I was in my late 20s. She said the standard mom thing “don’t get a tattoo, you’ll regret it when you are 40.”
I figure I made it pretty hard on my kids since they didn’t have much to rebel against. It’s not like they could shock me or get in trouble for smoking pot or drinking when they were underage, or making out with their boyfriend in the living room. If they’d told me they were gay, I would have said, “Okay. Thanks for sharing that. What shall we have for dinner?”
When my 14 year old came up to me one day while I was reading and said "Mom, I want to get a nose ring ", I said something a mother should never say to their daughter- it just slipped out. Without even looking up from my book, I said nonchalantly, “Why would you want to draw attention to your least attractive feature?”
(To give some context, she was always complaining about how she didn’t like her nose and was gonna get a nose job some day.)
She got the nose ring that week. Never did get a nose job.
My first one is fairly large, it’s a lizard on my foot and the tail goes around my ankle. It strangely wasn’t that painful getting it but the healing was difficult. My foot was swollen and I couldn’t wear a normal shoe. I had to wear a sock and birkenstock or slipper. The socks kept sticking to it. I got it over xmas break but was still limping when we went back to school in January. I was asked repeatedly what I did to injure myself.
The least pleasant in terms of pain is on my back between my shoulders. It took 3 hours and when done I walked straight down to the Irish bar and had two shots of whisky with Guinness chasers.
I was so afraid to get my ears pierced that I insisted on having both done at exactly the same time. I knew if I had them done one at a time, I’d chicken out before the second one. And I clung onto a teddy bear.
I had mine done in Winchester in, I’m going to say, 1972. It was in a little jewellers shop. The bloke did one ear and then a customer came in so he abandoned me with blood pouring out of my earlobe. But nevertheless, the job was done well.
A few weeks later I was walking through Barnsley market and saw a sign saying ‘ears pierced. One pound, including studs.’ So I did - I’m from Yorkshire so I love a bargain.
Every time I saw an ear piercing bargain, I got yet another piercing. So I had loads.
The “niceness” of the guest was never the issue. The issue was whether or not I could expect someone living in the middle of Siberia (as was the case) would even be able to get out of the country to keep the reservation (in light of air-travel sanctions), even if he wanted to… and if the family did manage to get to somewhere with flight connections to Canada, would they be able to pay for means etc while travelling given the freeze on Russian banks and credit cards and the devaluation of the ruble.
The question was: in the light of all the sanctions, should I look at this reservation as “dead in the water,” even in the guest wanted to (unrealistically) keep his dream alive.
As it turns out, the guest was an anti-war protester (he actually sent me photos) and the family fled the country the day the police came knocking on his door to gather evidence of “treason” (new law: 15 years in prison). He is not ever going back, and is currently in eastern Europe trying to figure his next step. At this point their July Airbnb reservation with us (which was confirmed several weeks ago) still stands.
But – like I said – It was never an issue whether or not Russian people are “nice.”
This whole situation is scarey and a cash free society would be a big mistake. I can’t imagine what families are going through. I was watching Anne Frank’s best friend on Netflix and I imagine just as terrifying.
