Rejecting "Common Sense" also Rejects the Golden Rule

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

en.wikipedia.com

It seems that the fear of litigation has triggered the ongoing evaporation of  "Common sense".  What triggered my need to defend "common sense" are three separate incidents that I experienced over the past month. As you will see, each of these incidents, though simple and uneventful,  not only rejected the use of "common sense" but the collateral damage from these rejections was the trashing of the Golden Rule.

Incident 1:

My wife was in the hospital during the middle of March. She had been taken off life-support and was in a room breathing on her own but unconscious. I was there with her and her head was bent over onto her shoulder. I thought I might try to lift her head and make her more comfortable. However, I was unable to do it by myself as she had a large CPAP mask strapped on.

Just then a young lady came into the room, gave me a big smile and asked, "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

I was thrilled at her timing and I explained how I just needed a bit of help repositioning my wife to make her more comfortable. The young lady shrugs and sheepishly says, "Oh sir, I'm sorry. I'm a volunteer and we are not allowed to touch the patients."

I quickly found out that the volunteers could not feed anyone, touch anyone and can basically do nothing more than be a "gopher" for the nurses or get me a cup of coffee. As far as helping the woman in the bed, NOT allowed.

Incident 2:

I am an EMHC and I bring Holy Communion to about a half dozen seniors in an assisted living facility on Sundays. One of my communicants had five or six newspapers in front of his door. I picked them up and headed to the main desk where a security guard was stationed. I dumped the papers on the countertop and said, "Hey Tony, what's going on down in 103. There is no answer and all his newspapers are outside his door?"

"Oh yeah, Mr. A is in the hospital. They took him earlier this week." Tony refused to tell me what hospital. So I asked, "How come no one picks up all these newspapers?"

He shook his head and shrugged, "We are not allowed to touch anyone including their “stuff”. In fact, if someone falls right in front of my desk I am not allowed to help them up or touch them. I have to call 911. If I touch them I will lose my job."

In my standard inbred NYC manner I say, "C'mon Tony. Gimme a break--whaddaya mean you can't help them. That's ridiculous."

He reached under the countertop and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was the rules and regulations from the facility. "Here, you think I'm making this up?" Everything he told me was on that sheet of paper.

Incident 3:

I have been getting three to four calls a day from a number in area code 954. I have no idea where that might be and I do not care. In addition, the caller(s) never spoke. They just disconnected.  I never answer the phone unless the caller identifies themselves but the relentless pursuit from area code 954 eventually beat me into submission.  I caved and answered the phone. A pleasant, melodic voice floats into my ear saying, "Is this Mr. Peterson?"

My immediate response (I love to get a bit flippy) was, "Ya think. You have been calling me over and over and over never leaving  a message and now you want to know who I am?  Who are YOU?"

“Heather” introduced herself and told me she was calling to see if I wanted to renew my newspaper subscription. "Heather, are you telling me that different phone solicitors from your paper have been calling me three to four times a day and not one of you left a message? Do I have that right?"

"Uh, yes, I'm sorry Mr. Peterson. We are not allowed to leave a message."

There is nothing I can add to that.  These "professional" people will call folks up all day long and never leave a message. They are not allowed. Whew! That, to me, that is harassment. Yet, it is justified because it is a "rule" or "policy" of an invisible entity called a “company”.

 Natural Law , present  in the heart of each man and established by reason, is universal in its precepts and its authority extends to all men. It expresses the dignity of the person and determines the basis for his fundamental rights and duties." CCC1956

I don't know about you but if I see someone fall I will (if possible) help them up. If I lose my job because of my actions--so be it. If I call someone and I hear a recorded response, I will leave a message.  The Golden Rule and “common sense” go hand in hand. This other stuff is “madness”.

                                 ©copyright Larry Peterson 2017

Larry talks about .. growing up in the Bronx

I grew up in the Bronx in the 50's and 60's. What can I tell you--IT WAS GREAT! How did it influence my writing of "The Priest and The Peaches"? Simple---the setting for the book is the Bronx and it was my world as a kid, a world that never leaves anyone no matter where you grew up.

So, as I write this, what's the first thing I remember. The candy stores. They seemed to be everywhere. Right down the block from our building was "Harry's Candy Store". Two blocks east on Morris Ave. was "Red's". Two blocks west up the hill on Sheridan Ave. was "Raines". Down the block from Raines was "Loddies". There was another one on 165th St. Can't remember the name. These were candy stores all within short walking distances from where we lived. And candy stores sold more than candy. Yes sir, they sold all sorts of stuff we kids could not live without. Besides candy there was bubble gum, baseball cards, comic books, candy buttons, model airplanes, school supplies like erasers and pencils and bottles of Waterman's Ink so we could fill our fountain pens. They had skate keys (yup, we had to tighten clamps onto the soles of our shoes to keep the skates on) and replacement skate wheels (our skates had metal wheels that wore out on the sidewalks). And, of course, candy stores supplied us with the greatest rubber ball ever made, the Spalding. I don't know if the game of stick-ball would have ever survived without the Spalding. Most of them also had soda fountains where you could get an egg-cream (a NY original) or a vanilla coke or a cherry coke or an ice cream cone or a hamburger. Finally, we cannot forget the newspapers. Many of the neighborhood men would be outside a candy store around 8 p.m. waiting for the one star edition of the NY Daily News or The Daily Mirror. This was the next day's news an evening early and it never made any sense to me how they knew what was going to happen tomorrow. Hey, what did I know. I was a kid. If you waited until morning the three or four star edition would be available.

We kids would get home from school around 3 p.m. and within ten minutes we were changed into our "play" clothes and back outside. Stickball, curb-ball, stoop-ball, roller skating, ring-a-leevio, Johnny-on-the-pony, we played something all the time. We also wandered all around the neighborhood and I guess our folks did not worry about where we were unless we did not arrive home at 5:30 for supper. It was amazing how the street always seemed to empty around that time. We all knew better.

You know, I could really "run" with this. It is conjuring up memories from "back in the day". So I had better stop. To answer the question, How did growing up in the Bronx influence my writing of the book? , well, all I can say is---"Whut, are you kiddin me? Fuhgedabotit."