Sanskrit, a Story from Harvey and Sid on "Profiling"

  Example of Sanskrit text\

Got a telemarketing call from somewhere in Asia the other day which tried to con me into having them “fix” my computer.  I hope none of you fall for that pitch.  I told the gentleman that my English was very limited and he would have to speak to me in Sanskrit, and if he didn’t have someone available fluent in that language, to call me back when he did.  (I said all of the the above in English of course.)  As we concluded the conversation, I told him I would “sign off” in Sanskrit and told him to “Gai kok af en yom” and he attempted to mumble those words back to me.  It has been a couple of weeks and they haven’t called me back.  (For those who are not fluent in Sanskrit, I refer you to http://www.yiddishslangdictionary.com/word/556/Gay+kocken+offen+yom)

                                                              
BABY SUE AND THE POO DOG

Harvey Sage     harvo1@comcast.net

For his grand daughters  Brooke and Madison

Nana Nadia stopped to look at the family portrait as she  headed for the loo.  These people were very well to do, she thought. The father owned an on-line company worth God knows how much. The mother managed  an elite clothing store famous throughout the state for its choice selections. And Baby Sue was a darling angel who Nadia, the daughter of an immigrant, was hired to care for.

Nadia glanced out the expansive rear window, enthralled as always with the view of the southwestern mountains of Santa Fe which reminded her of her homeland south of here.  

The Klaxtons owned acres of land, a small part of which was decorated with a wild grass lawn, scores of shrubs, and a few pine trees. The rest was left to nature and mounds of dirt. She smiled at Baby Sue who was meandering around her one hundred square foot fenced in play area. As a toddler this adorable nymph could walk on the encased carpet of grass to her hearts content,  safe from the evils of the outside world.  God is good, Nadia smiled, as she went about her business.

Baby Sue was gurgling with delight as she spied a very colorful long piece of colorfully encrusted rope which had a diamond shaped head with two long teeth on one end and something that resembled one of her baby rattles on the other. Baby Sue squealed as she approached the rattle,  anxious to grab and shake it. The colorful rope moved away.

Right outside the play area lived a colony of Poo Dogs. Weighing in at about 4 pounds each they had built an underground city of tunnels about a square mile wide.  These  gregarious Prairie Dogs formed tight  knit families which kept in touch by chirping. A few of them had befriended the Klaxtons showing up for cookouts or visits. Poo  Dogs ate grass, roots, and seeds and showed their family love by kissing and nuzzling each other.  The Klaxtons enjoyed these Poo Dogs and the interaction which included their playfulness and allowing the Klaxtons to pet them. Unlike their neighbors they didn’t see these as nuisances, so they didn’t push them away. This kindness was often rewarded by a Poo Dog kiss.

Today, as with most days, these were working on their warren of tunnels with their nurseries, sleeping quarters, and communal rooms capped by dirt. One Poo Dog came up for a break and look around, popping up near Baby Sue’s playground. He saw the toddler and the rattle snake and knew danger  was imminent. Poo Dogs warn of danger by high pitched staccato chirps. In a moment three other dogs emerged.  Instantly they reacted. Two Poo Dogs began chirping, jumping running in circles  and acting in their playful manner.  This distracted Baby Sue who forgot about the colorful rope with its rattle and came over to watch the fun.

The third Poo Dog  began digging a hole near the fence, rapidly scooping dirt away with its sharp claws. A large mound grew which Nana Nadia saw as she returned from the loo.  “Oh no. Don’t do that. Mr. Klaxton will kill me!”  Nadia ran outside, looking for something to shoo away the digging dog. She spotted a long handled shovel and picked it up.

By this time the digging Poo Dog had undermined the fence and was inside the enclosure. He immediately placed himself between the snake and Baby Sue to protect her.   

The rattlesnake was emitting its characteristic sound.  Baby Sue heard this and began approaching. Shovel in hand, Nana Nadia entered the play area, her maternal instincts overcoming fear and reason. I’ve got to protect Baby Sue ran through her mind. She positioned herself between the rattlesnake and the toddler and raised the shovel. The snake sprung at Baby Sue, mouth wide open, fangs extended.  Nadia thrust the shovel’s blade to intercept and the snake bite hit it with a loud smack. Stunned, the snake backed off and began recoiling, its rattle insanely sounding. At that point the three Poo Dogs lined up with Nadia to create a protective barrier. Then they sprung into action.

As Nadia stood with hoisted shovel the dogs began striking at the snake.  Because they came from different angles the snake couldn’t protect itself. The dogs rushed in, nipped and snipped, and then backed off.  The snake twisted back and forth trying to avoid the feverish attack. Nadia saw that Baby Sue had retreated and was safe for the moment.  Her heart beat wildly and she gave a shout as she swung the shovel. Wack!  She hit the snake’s head.  Wack!  She hit it again and again.  The Poo Dogs kept nipping and ripping till the snake showed no life.  Using the edge of the shovel as a blade she came down hard on the snake’s head. She severed it and watched as the blood flowed.  Nana Nadia was exhausted.  She dropped the shovel and picked up Baby Sue as the Poo Dogs chirped a  merry victory tune.  She looked heavenward and thanked God.

When the Klaxtons came home there was quite a tale to tell.  They were happy that they had befriended the Prairie Dogs, an example of a beneficial relationship between people and freely living  animals sort of like in the Garden of Eden. Baby Sue was happy too, especially since she had a new toy to play with which she shook gleefully as it made an enticing rattling sound. 

                                                                 
Sid's Corner

PROFILING                                 

                                                  

When I was growing up in a section of Boston that was inhabited by predominately Jewish immigrants, profiling was on automatic pilot.

My wanna-be-American peer group of youngsters profiled the Orthodox among us by their dress code and their beards and their hair styles. All the immigrants profiled each other based on the different cities and villages of Europe from which they came.

The predominantly Irish cops had a field day chasing us sheeny, kike rascals through the streets and yards based on our transgressions…whether committed or merely anticipated.

When we wandered beyond the boundaries of our Jewish neighborhoods into the gentile neighborhoods, we were profiled by our physical characteristics, and many times were physically assaulted as a result. And when we advanced beyond elementary school into junior high school and high school, we encountered students from a broader population mix that subjected us to increased incidents of profiling…of deeper we-uns and they-uns mentality.

After high school when I was interviewing for a job in General Electric’s Apprentice Training Program, the Superintendent of the program commented, “Oh, you’re Jewish. I just hired two of you last week.” During my tenure at GE and then at other companies throughout my professional career, I was frequently subjected to similar profiling…be it sinister or jovial.

I would assume that such profiling is built into our DNA as a basic survival mechanism to protect our species. Therefore, we can’t not profile. The earliest of humanoids did so in their tribal communities; townspeople did so when an obvious stranger rode into a community of settlers as our country was being populated by immigrants. Presently in my gated community here in Florida we have a Citizens on Patrol (COP) program, sanctioned by the sheriff’s department, wherein uniformed, unarmed, resident volunteers ride around in patrol cars watching for strangers, who by their physical assessment, do not seem to belong. Their rules of engagement require a judgment call to 911 and preclude confronting the stranger.

It is my opinion, along with various sociologists and psychologists, that one’s profiling assessment includes a criteria of absorbed data developed via years of inputted information coming from various sources…prejudices, family lore, social interaction, factual data, personal experience, et al. So, if I were to see a bedraggled, slovenly dressed person carrying a cardboard sign offering to work for food wandering the streets of my community, my internal programming would leap to the immediate conclusion that this person is not a resident of my gated enclave.

The main question re profiling is to consider what action manifests for the profilee and the profiler because this manifestation determines whether escalation into physicality will ensue.

Sometimes I punctuated my discomfort with my fists; sometimes I educated my abuser; and sometimes, as with the GE Superintendent, I just “curbed my enthusiasm” because I needed the job.

In some way and shape we all profile, and the tragedy of the Trayvon Martin-George Zimmerman encounter is the latest example of the extremes that can result.       

Sid Bolotin    

                                             

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