That’s the question I heard as I rummaged through a bin of pricey, organic apples. A split-second before this stranger’s question registered in my mind, her hand came to rest gently on my right forearm, an entirely unwelcome way to approach me. (I like my personal space.) Her tone was exactly like that of a Christian missionary approaching a lost sinner, asking "Do you know your personal lord and savior Jesus Christ?"
"Why is this woman talking to me? Why is she asking me that? And what’s up with the holier-than-thou tone?"
"Oh yeah," I realized, "it’s my t-shirt."
More...
Finally, nearly a year after I designed and purchased this shirt, someone had decided to confront me about it – even though she didn’t really get the joke. I looked up from my $2.99/lb. Pink Ladies and locked eyes with a 50-something woman of means – or a 50-something woman who wanted everyone to think she was of means. It is Dallas, after all, the home of the $30,000 millionaire.
Anyways, she was dressed in a long, black pencil skirt and a matching black jacket with what appeared to be a fur-lined collar. Just barely after 1 on a Sunday afternoon, she apparently was fresh out of church and decided to drop by Whole Foods to defy her God’s will by shopping on the Sabbath. Nice.
"What’s that?" I asked.
Church Lady:
"Do you know George Bush personally?"
"No."
My reply was cold. Not angry, but obviously indicating that I was not interested in what she was about to say.
[Still in her Sunday tone]
Church Lady:
"Well, I do know George Bush. He’s a good man. And I don’t think you should call him ‘evil’ if you have never met him..."
At this point, I suppose the cleverest response would’ve been "True, I should meet George Bush. That would confirm his evil."
But I took a less aggressive tack...
"Wait," I said with a sly grin, "I don’t think you get it." [Motioning over my shoulder with my thumb] "George Bush is stupid..." [Then pointing to my chest] "...and Dick Cheney is evil."
There was a moment of silent reflection as she pieced together the front and back of my shirt.
[Maintaining her soft-spoken, churchy tone.]
Church Lady:
"You can disagree with his policies, but it’s not fair to make personal statements about his character if you’ve never met him."
Again motioning over my shoulder with my thumb, I said, "Okay, I think George Bush’s policies are stupid." Then pointing to my chest again, I said, "...and Dick Cheney’s policies are evil."
Church Lady:
"But those are his policies. Not his personal life..."
[Getting really irritated at this point, I was doing my best to keep the volume down.]
"Isn’t that the point, really? Don’t our actions say more about our characters than anything else?"
Church Lady:
"Well, I’d just prefer that you’d refrain from making it personal."
"And that’s part of the beauty of this country. I have the right to say whatever I want, and you..."
Church Lady:
"I’d just prefer that you not make it personal."
"...and you have the right to come over here and speak your mind..."
Church Lady:
"I just think that if you knew him personally, that you wouldn’t say that about him. That’s really hurtful..."
Clearly, I was getting nowhere. Standing right in front of me was one of the 30 percenters, a woman who believed George Bush (or any other Republican) could do no wrong, no matter the mounting evidence to the contrary.
Insulted that this delusional stranger could suggest that I call George Bush an acquaintance, even in some backwards, hypothetical bizzaro world, I felt my face get flushed. I felt my heart start to race. I felt my anger building to the top. And for the first time during that conversation, I got a tone of my own self-righteous indignation.
"I’m sorry but I don’t think I want to know either of those two people."
This was a real turning point in the conversation. I found myself starting to get dragged down into her world.
In the several weeks since this run-in, I’ve thought of so many different ways that I could’ve handled it. I could’ve been much more harsh. I could’ve really torn into her. I could've just been...honest about her friend George Bush. The truth about him is painful, after all.
I could’ve pointed out specifics. I could’ve asked her if she thought the cruel and sadistic practice of torture could be ordered and advocated by "a good man." I could’ve asked whether "a good man" could be so willing to wash the blood from his hands onto the hands of someone -- anyone -- else. I could’ve asked whether "a good man" could weasel out of answering for any of his wrongdoings. I could’ve asked whether "a good man" would manipulate the deaths of 3,000 innocent people in order to keep his own job. I could’ve asked so many things about what "a good man" would do that my head is left spinning thinking about the possibilities.
But, realizing that this woman was too-far-gone for me to reach with logic or facts, I knew what a good man would do. At least in this case, a good man would just walk away. So that’s exactly what I did.
I walked away, knowing what most Americans know today. That I didn’t want anything else to do with George Bush. Or Dick Cheney. Or their apologists.
Because, in the end, we are a nation of good men and good women.
Well...seventy percent of us are anyways.