Sometimes You Feel Like There's Progress, Sometimes You Don't .... Smallville Edition

Carlos and I are procrastinators of epic proportions. He'd say he's gonna disagree with that statement but then he'd probably wait before he says he actually disagrees with it.

When we purchased our home in Smallville it had a huge yard; it is, literally, 23-times larger than the yard we had in Miami. And, when we lived in Miami the HOA took care of mowing the lawns, and we just tended the gardens so we had no use for a mower; until Smallville.

When we moved here, I suggested we get a riding mower and we looked at them but then Carlos found a self-propelled push mower by Toro and he fell in love with the name so we bought that. And after that first year I said, We really should get a riding mower because it will cut the mowing time in half. [It takes roughly an hour-and-forty-five minutes to mow just the back] And Carlos agreed.

Six years later .... SIX YEARS .... the procrastinators did it; we bought ourselves a Craftsman Riding Mower. But, that's not the story, this is:

We had, as we are apt to do, done all the research for the mowers; we looked at them online, visited all the stores that carry them, talked to friends and neighbors about their mowers and what they liked and disliked, and that lead us to Sears and the Craftsman. Trouble is the nearest Sears is roughly forty miles from us, but then we realized that he next town over has a small Sears storefront that sells mostly appliances and, lo and behold, mowers. Last Saturday we went to buy one.

And we found a beauty, that is perfect for our yard and, most important of all, fits in our backyard shed. So, we began talking with the saleswoman—an older woman with one of those thicker than molasses Southern accents—about the mower and she explained it was the one that she had, and that it works very well. We told her how big our yard was and she said it would be a good fit for us. We asked about the bagger options--and this is where the progressive part of the story comes in--and she said there were two options: a hard-shell bagger, and a soft-shell bagger.

She said she got the soft-shell because, well, she has a tendency to back into things.

I looked at Carlos and said, With the way you drive we'd need a soft-shell, too.

Then she said, MY husband is the same way.

It was so quick, I almost missed it. MY husband; as in my husband is like your husband.

See, Carlos and I don't hide who we are when we're out together, not even in South Carolina; he has a live-and-let-live attitude while mine if more %@&# 'em if they have a probelm.

When we buy things for the house we talk to salespeople about our house and what we want for our home and we just present ourselves as a couple. And while we’ve never had an issue with anyone sort of feeling uncomfortable with that, this woman, this self-admitted country woman, said my husband is like your husband.

It made me realize that the problem people have with The Gays isn't all of the people—even in South Carolina—it’s just some of the people, and the people that have no issue just go along through life.

Comparing their husband to yours. Now, you can say that she was just trying to make a sale, but, if so, she didn't need to emphasize her husband as if comparing him to my husband.

I was kind of on a high after that, feeling just a tinge of progressiveness from South Carolina, but then I was jerked back.

Later that night, I was having a drink with a friend, and an acquaintance of hers came over to talk. Now, I know the guy, but we're not friends; it's just an I've seen you around town relationship.

But, while we chatted, the conversation turned toward the recent events in Boston and the murdered suspect and the captured suspect and we began discussing terrorism. This acquaintance kept calling it domestic terrorism which I finally said annoyed me because, to me, terrorism is terrorism, no matter whom the perpetrator. Just because you live in this country doesn’t make the terrorist act any different.

The term terrorist means, at least to me, to instill terror in people, and that's what those two men did in Boston. Adam Lanza did the same thing in Newtown; terrorists all.

But then this acquaintance said something about how he was surprised that these two men were the ALLEGED terrorists because, and I quote, "They look just like one of us."

Excuse me, I said. One of us?

Well, you know, terrorists are usually Middle Eastern, Muslim.

I said, I have two words for you, Timothy McVeigh. Terrorists aren't terrorists because they're Muslim, they're terrorists because they terrorize and murder people and they can do all that and more without being Muslim.

And, I continued my rant, how racist is it to suggest that the men couldn't be terrorists because they 'look like us'? I mean, when I think American I see all colors of faces and all ethnicities and religions and beliefs and genders and orientations. How is it that you just see white guys?

He stammered and stuttered and said he just meant that they didn't look like terrorists and I asked, again, What does a terrorist look like to you?

It was just silence. And in that moment of silence my whole sense of euphoria about South Carolina and progress and understanding and acceptance was wiped out.

By the words 'they look like us.'

While the saleswoman was being open and accepting while selling a mower to the couple who just happened to be two men, here was this guy—this young, well educated gut—saying he was shocked that white people could be terrorists.

I had really felt those two big steps forward South Carolina, and then I felt the big jump back.

Baby steps, I guess.