Doing the things!

So my dad taught junior English at a local high school, he taught on the second story of a building that was built back when schools had large windows that opened, and his windows faced the front of the building.

So one day in like April he’s teaching Moby Dick or Gone with the Wind or something with the windows open a crack to allow spring air into the classroom and one of the windows opens further and a kid climbs in through the window.

This kid, who hasn’t been at school since winter break, puts his finger to his lips. crouches for a second under the window, crawls to the classroom door, peaks out the window in the door, opens the door and slips into the hall.

He apparently then dashes down the hall, slips through the door into another junior English class (taught by my dad’s friend), where he again puts his finger to his lips, jogs across the room, climbs out the window (which faced a courtyard on the backside of the front hall) and disappears.

So my dad’s school has faculty meetings every Teusday after school, and the teachers would all bring food (because after 7+ hours of school even teachers are hungry then they have to sit in a meeting for at least an hour talking about test scores or whatever).

So this kid, I don’t know what the motivation here was, but he would sneak into the library and take food from the meetings. Usually they just let him because, I mean, he’s not really harming anything. That just made him bolder though. One day he began taking an entire pie from the meetings.

So one day he’s sitting in the hall eating an entire pie because high school, and security took offense at this (because he was in the building after all students were supposed to leave, also he was apparently a trouble maker who security was familiar with) and this is where the story starts getting a little crazy.

Obviously, when security shows up, pie kid runs (carrying the uneaten half of his pie). This becomes a normal Teusday afternoon sight: security chasing pie kid through the halls as he’s eating pie stolen from a faculty meeting. The kid regularly found himself in odd corners of the building, including the roof, the boiler room, the field house, the magnet school behind the high school, etc. hiding from security and eating his pie.

Eventually, security caught up with him and his pie and dragged him to the principal’s office.

Now, the principal at this point is a little.. strict. He runs a tight ship.. or thinks he does.. you know those people who are VERY concerned with their world being EXTREMELY orderly and the world just stares them in the face and refuses? That was this principal’s life. He was trying to make a 2,500 student high school walk in lock step. As shown by the last story, that doesn’t happen at this school.

So the principal is alerted that pie kid, who’s been on the run from security for 2 months, is in his office with today’s pie. So the kid waits in the office finishing his pie and the principal walks in, closes the door, sits down, and says something like “what is going on?”

At this point the kid (who has finished his pie of the day) gets up, calmly walks over to the window, opens it, climbs out, hops the bushes under the window, and runs away.

They take him home. They give him the Hebrew name Kal-El and the American name Clark so he will fit in. They know what it is to be different. There is no Hebrew school in Smallville so they teach him at home, and study Torah together. When he shows special abilities, they wonder to each other if he is the Moshiach. Not for the strength of his body, but for the strength of his kindness. He always seems to be helping others, delivering them from harm, as he was delivered to them. They never tell him this, but they teach him about the obligations without measure. He's a natural.

At school, he is side-eyed for being different. When he displays eccentricities, the villagers shrug and say "maybe it's a Jewish thing." The Kents make sure he values his education, and is always home for Shabbas dinner.

His is bar-mitzva'd at the nearest shul, a few towns over. They didn't know his birthday, so they chose one near Parshat Shemot. Now they worry that was too on-the-nose, but he gives a moving d'var about the obligation to speak truth to power.

As he comes into his own and tries to be a hero, he hides his identity from the public, not out of shame, but to keep his adopted parents safe. They've been persecuted enough.

When he moves to the big city for a job at a newspaper, Pa is so proud he cries. Clark uses his journalistic skills to expose corruption, give voice to the neglected and oppressed, and research his own origins. When he learns the truth about Krypton and his birth parents' desperate bid to send him to safety, Ma and Pa are not at all surprised that they were right.

When Clark brings Lois home, he assures his parents she is a nice Jewish girl, but they're just glad she's a mensch. They step on a glass to remember the destruction of Krypton, and stand under a chuppah quilted by Ma.

A white billionaire spews lies about him, trying to spread fear of the stranger in their midst. He comes out in public and says "There's nothing more American than being an immigrant."

When the government turns against immigrants, he stands on the side of the protestors and protects. Tear gass does nothing to him. He makes himself a shield. He writes article after article in the Daily Planet, making sure the public knows what their government is doing, that immigrants know their rights, that the powerful are put on notice. When they start rounding people up, he says "Never again."

1.) I don’t understand how that can be

2.) But I’ve never done fieldwork from a car before (!!!) so I’ll take your word for it.

“Heeeey”, she said, like someone gently broaching a topic I should have noticed, “Why does the lane next to us have diamond shaped symbols on it?”

That is! A subtle and friendly way of asking why we’re sitting in traffic when there’s a carpool lane Right There! I laughed and pulled into the lane and started driving.

Unfortunately. That isn’t what she was implying, she was genuinely asking. So we were stuck in traffic, she asked about what was clearly a breakdown or emergency access lane, and I laughed and started driving in it. She was Alarmed.

“Hello! Excuse me! We can’t drive in this lane! No one else is driving in this lane!!”

“Oh! I should have said — this lane is for people with more than one person in their car.”

“That is RIDICULOUS. You are lying. You are lying about what this lane is for and we’ll get arrested! (ma’am it’s fine but if it weren’t it would be more of a “ticket” situation) we’ll get a “ticket”! (Ma’am again it’s fine but were it not I alone would get the ticket) because that IS NOT the purpose of this lane. That is a RIDICULOUS lie.”

“I’m sorry, I should have said — I thought you were being subtle about my oversight. Please observe the carpool sign.”

“I don’t know what a carpool is and I don’t believe you.”

“How about you look at all the cars stuck in traffic and see how many have more than one driver, and if there are at least five I’ll get back into the traffic jam.”

“FINE!”

<a pause>

(With dawning horror) “none of these cars have more than one person in them.”

“I know.”

“None of these cars have more than one person!!”

“If you weren’t here I’d be right there with them.”

“OK but there was no train to where we needed to go.”

“There’s no train to where they needed to go either.”

“I know McDonalds and Burger King sell Burgers, but what does Wendy’s sell?”

“Burgers”

“And Sonic?”

“Burgers.”

“Jack in the Box?”

“Burgers.”

“In’n’Out?”

I really haven’t had to pretend to have a gun that many times!

We were staying in a cheap hotel, she was coming out of the shower wrapped in a towel. Someone shoulder-slammed the hotel door and popped the lock open and started fumbling with the security chain. I snarled “GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR, I HAVE A GUN.” and the person left.

She was WAY way WAY more concerned about me traveling with a gun (ma’am I do not have a gun) why would I SAY I had a gun if I couldn’t back it up? (Ma’am to get him to stop trying to break in) But why would he THINK I had a gun? How would that even work? Please tell her where I keep the gun. (Ma’am I promise there is no gun.)

The debate continued through my call to the front desk and our packing and being protectively escorted to our car by a young man who I could absolutely take in a fight. (“What is she mad about?” “I told the guy I had a gun.” “Smart! Maybe you should get one if you’re gonna travel like this!” “Haha yeah” “So why is she mad?” “She thinks I have a gun.” “WHY WOULD SHE LIE ABOUT HAVING A GUN?!?!”)

From 2019 🌠✨

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE–”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

The plate must be clearly and openly displayed in a place of great prominence whenever it is in your possession. When it is not in your possession, the display piece must remain in place. This is where you would put your gay pirate plate, IF YOU HAD ONE.

No active steps may be taken to prevent the theft of the Gay Pirate Plate. That goes against the spirit of the game, as does attempting to hide it.

The plate MUST be stolen and cannot be gifted or removed with permission. Should you witness attempted theft of the Gay Pirate Plate you are required to intervene and return it to its place.