Middle Of The Week Pondering

I ponder a lot--you know that, right?  I have always been a person who is interested in why people act as they do, think as they do, react as they do.  If you were to look at my college "report" cards you would see classes like: Clinical Psychology. Abnormal Psychology, Child Psychology, Sociology, Philosophy, Human Relations, even a class in Anthropology,

Over the years I have visited with many people;  different races, cultures, beliefs, and circumstances.  In the end, as I have thought of those people in my past, it appears, at least to me, that no matter the circumstances in a person's life, their reaction is based, in large part, on their DNA--their lineage, their culture.

I of course, know there are differences in every culture/race, but it seems to my observations:

Asians are stoic in their reactions.
English and Germanic people the same reserved, stoicism and stubborn.
Irish do seem to have more of a short temper.
Italians are more expressive and loud.
Spaniards, quite the same as Italians.
Puerto Ricans, too--must be the Spanish blood?
Greeks also--a lot of waving of hands and noisy.
Mexicans seem to have a lot of paranoia, even if they have lived in the US for generations.
Blacks seem to react to things in an expressive, loud, sometimes reactionary manner, letting all their emotions out.

 The Japanese man I had known all my life--nothing fazed him.  His parents were US citizens and yet put in the concentration camps in California during WWII.  Their land taken from them.  They did not fight back.  They lived it, got out, went on to college, became professionals and like he often said, "We are gradually buying out the US.  Just look at Hawaii" and then he laughed.

My people are English and German.  Again, fazed very little by whatever comes our way.  No one in my family cries at funerals, well, there may be tears, but no wailing and loud sobbing.  We conduct ourselves in what we perceive a "civilized", proper manner.  Family get-together's are quiet, calm, happy.  There isn't any yelling going on and also, not too much loud laughter. If there is a problem between two family members, you'd never know it.  There is no confrontation--at least not in front of anyone.

I had an Irish friend..the least little thing, set her off in the worse temper tantrum I have never seen.  There was occasional screaming and throwing of objects.  

I have an Italian friend.  There is a lot of gesticulating, and loud voice and when upset, an angry , fierce look to his face.

I had a Puerto Rican son-in-law for a few months.  Holy Cow--his family was dramatically expressive about everything!!  Happy or angry, there was a lot of yelling and gesticulating going on.

I have Mexican friends that I met while I lived in Saginaw.  Although they had lived here for a couple of generations, had good jobs with General Motors--they still were paranoid and felt they were being "profiled" by the police.  Their whole family--3 generations--lived together in one house.  There was a lot of yelling back and forth, but...the food was great.

 I had a relationship with a black man for a few weeks.  (Back then, in my 40's, I deemed myself to be very open minded and a bit Liberal.  My family knew nothing of this short lived relationship)

He was very well educated, very well spoken, a professional with General Motors and very quiet and polite.  I attended church with him once--HOLY COW!!  The congregation not only stood for most of the service, they swayed and danced during the singing (which was kind of cool--kind of), but all the while the minister was giving his sermon, they talked back to him--they cried out--they acted like they were all on some kind of mind altering drug! Like they were in a trance of ecstasy.  

I kept waiting for snakes to be passed around.  

I was both scared and fascinated.  The man I was with, was a bit more restrained, but I could see, he so wanted to stand up and be right there with them.

Then we went to dinner at his parent's house.  HOLY COW!  Here was a man who spoke perfect English--until he got in the door.  There was jubilant yelling and hugging and all of a sudden,  he started talking just like them.  I could barely understand what they were saying.  Strange inflections in their voices, high screeching laughter.

Don't get me wrong, they were all perfectly lovely and nice to me--so welcoming, but all through dinner, there was so much loud talk and gesticulating and laughing, even a few not so gentle nudges to my arms from either side.  By the time we left, my ears were ringing and I was quite worn out.  Once in the car, he went back to the quiet, reserved, English speaking man I (thought) I knew.
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While my grandmother was in hospital, there was an old black lady across the hall.  Visitors were limited, back in those days, but it did not matter one whit to that black family.  They piled in that room and when their lady passed, HOLY COW!  They moaned, then they yelled and screamed.  Shouts of, "Sweet Jesus, take Momma home with you NOW!"

I got up and shut my Grandma's hospital room door--all the commotion was very upsetting to her (and me.)  When she passed, there was a quiet peace in her room.  The last patting of her hand.  A kiss on her forehead, a tear.  That was it.

So, as I watch the reactions of the people in Ferguson or wherever a bad thing happens to a black person--it doesn't surprise me.  Michael Brown's step-father can one minute yell, "Burn the bitch down," and in the next minute ask for peace and prayers.  It is their way.

When O.J. Simpson was acquitted, I didn't see any whites burning, looting or rioting.  Not the case in this situation.

I saw an interview on TV, in Ferguson.  The site was a car lot where all the cars had been burned.  They interviewed a 65 year old black woman.  She said, "Why burn the cars.  What did the cars have to do with it?"  Young blacks came into the background, yelling with glee and taking pictures on their phones of the burned out cars.

The Asian man whose store Michael Brown stole from and punched out the owner, now stands in the ruins of his looted store--he looks sad, but stoic.

I'm not saying that the white race is all perfect.  Take the Westboro Baptist Church people for example.  Take the Ku Klux Klan for example.

Of course race is involved.  The media makes it that way--the President and his friends, Al Sharpton, Eric Holder, make it that way.  To me, they seem to be the biggest racists in this country.  Oh how I remember Louis Farrakan coming on my college campus, with a bullhorn, extorting the young black women to, "Have those babies.  Have those babies every year!  That is the ONLY way we will evah become the majority!"  HOLY COW!!

But more than that, as I ponder, it just seems to be a cultural thing.  The ancestry we come from.  Perhaps even the climate of the region our people were born and bred in, comes into play.  The hotter the climate they came from, the more emotional and dramatically expressive they seem to be.

God made us all.  He loves us all.  Our blood, bone and sinew are exactly the same.  It must be a cultural thing that makes us appear to be different?

What do you think?
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Well, enough of that pondering, on too more important stuff.

3rd batch of spaghetti sauce done and I see, I will have to make another batch.  I lack about 3 more bags.

After it has simmered and thickened (10 hours), I let it cool and then put four large ladels in each baggie.
I press the air out carefully, hoping I don't shakily push out spaghetti sauce, zip it up and lay them flat in my freezer.

After a couple of days, when they are rock hard, I put two baggies in a gallon bag.  I make Christmasy labels with their names on them, stick the labels on Christmas Eve and take them with me in a large cooler.  I have a small message written to them about their Christmas present that I wrap and put under the tree.  When they open their "present", they know where their present is located.

I set that cooler out on the front porch and as the guys go home, they reach in and get their gallon bag.

Every batch I made always has a bit left over.  That is MY present and a nice spaghetti supper for this weekend.  By the time I eat the left over spaghetti sauce, I don't want anymore for another year!!!  I am getting real sick of the smell of basil, oregano and garlic.

Have a wonderful day tomorrow.  I will be up at my sister's and showing her all the ancestry secrets I found. :-)