Prying open my mind

Prying my mind open

When I was a teenager there were two things guys never wanted to be accused of; being prejudiced or listening to disco. Growing up in the age of civil rights activism and women’s liberation, the only thing worse than getting caught buying a Bee Gees tape was being called prejudiced; it just wasn’t cool.

The truth is that I have always prejudged people, for all kinds of ridiculous reasons. We all do it whether we admit it or not. I’m not talking about bigotry, just old fashion prejudice.

Whereas all bigotry is evil fear based ignorance and it’s never justified, sometimes prejudgments are just plain silly.

For example, when I see a man with his belt up near his armpits I judge him to be a geezer regardless of his age. When I see another guy with his belt just above his knees I judge him to be an asshole without even speaking to him (admit it, you thought I was going to say that he was young but, trust me, he’s an asshole).

When my wife told me that we were going to spend five days sharing a house with a ten strangers who all paid to commune with the “Dolphin Whisperer”, you can bet your sweet ass that I prejudged them to be a group of vegan spiritualists more likely to offer me a hug than a beer. Swell.

My worst fears were realized before we even got to Bimini. While waiting for our flight in Fort Lauderdale we watched as a lovely young lady sitting across from us cleansed the aura of her traveling companion by moving her hands slowly around her. Really.

Sandra nudged me and said, “I think they might be in our group.” I just sat there impressed; I have never seen an aura cleansed before so I had to assume it worked; but more than impressed I was reassured that my prejudice was right on!

I’m not a complete moron (regardless of what you may have heard) so I realize that others prejudge me just like I do them.

I’m a fairly articulate 54 year-old married white retired military officer who makes a decent living in the defense industry, so when we met the vegan tree huggers I’m guessing they prejudged me as a Scotch drinking Republican with an ulcer and a Harley custom ordered to compensate for my mid-life crisis.

Actually, I’m politically independent slacker who dropped out of high school then stumbled into a decent career. I prefer a cold beer or a boat drink to the best Scotch and I have a mountain bike custom ordered to compensate for my mid-life crisis. I was sure they had me figured all wrong but that was OK with me.

I can’t begin to guess how they prejudged Sandra. I’ve been married to her for 25 years and I don’t have a clue where she’s coming from half the time, so whatever they thought, they were wrong.

Seriously one minute she can give you detailed descriptions of the imminent takeover of Earth by reptilian aliens next year but just when you judge her to be a total nut-bag she turns into the grizzled former Seabee turned gentle artist and grandma that she really is. Go figure.

Long before I had a chance to adequately prejudge everyone, we had stowed our gear and were jumping off the boat for our first snorkeling adventure. Having seen me shirtless in my swimsuit I just assume that many of them had added gym-rat or Greek God to their prejudgment of me; I can live with that.

That night I discovered that one of the “vegan spiritualists” was actually the coolest Canadian chefs I’ve ever met. Her name was Sylvia and she was easily the toughest Canadian I’ve ever seen who was not a defenseman in the NHL. She was so tough that she had vacationed in Yugoslavia back in the 70s just to see what was behind the Iron Curtain.

A young woman traveling alone in Yugoslavia back then just for the adventure of it would be like me visiting North Korea just to sample the kimchi. She’s one tough lady.

She cooked up the fish and lobster speared that day and created a meal that I will never forget. I’m not sure but I think she might have basted the fish with some kind of moose sauce. A cool Canadian who can cook; man, I had judged her all wrong!

Somebody broke out what looked like the largest half-smoked joint that I’ve ever seen, not that I’ve ever actually seen a joint except on TV (come on, my kids read this). I swear this thing was as big as a Cuban cigar, not that I ever saw a Cuban cigar except on TV (come on, anybody could be reading this).

I wasn't surprised because I had prejudged that, in a group that included more than one survivor from the 60s, someone would have brought along some of their favorite herb. I was just waiting to see which one I was right about.

I sat there trying to make up an excuse to get out of smoking that giant joint while maintaining my ultra-cool persona that, by now, I was sure this eclectic group of sensitive people must have perceived. The truth is that there was no way I was risking the munchies on an isolated island, miles away from the nearest chili-cheeseburger; but that's not a very cool excuse.

So these folks were turning out to be completely different from what I had expected. How could I have been this wrong in my prejudgment of these people? That was when a nice lady in a tie-dyed dress explained that she needed to light that sage to cleanse the house of negative energy before she broke out the positively charged crystals she had brought along.

Of course she had brought along a sage torch to protect her positively charged crystals, what was I thinking?

See, prejudice isn’t always wrong.

Next week I learn to meditate, you don’t want to miss that.