The Cutie Pie CSI Guy and Seeking Tolerance

I’m going to sound like a broken record when I say I love the lecture series at the senior hall. This week, quite by accident, I sat with the lecturer’s ‘fan club’---his wife and assorted family members, probably fearing a pack of cougars would jump his bones. He was a clean-cut, perfectly polished and pressed guy with dimples and an easy smile. Movie star cute and he processes firearms and tools that are involved in crimes for the state police forensic science lab. Yes, a real life CSI investigator. When he asked the audience of 130 for a show of hands of those who watch CSI TV shows, almost everyone raised their hand. I was not one of them. But I learned a long time ago to sign up for all the lectures, whether or not I have a passing interest in the topic. I’ve been going to the lecture series for five years and only once did I find it a boring waste of time and ironically that lecture was brought up in the question and answer portion of this lecture. 

I’ve never served on a jury that dealt with a crime but now I know what type of detailed ‘education’ they get from expert witnesses. Cutie Pie showed us how they prove that the bullets found in victims or property match up with particular guns. It’s all very precise and scientific. We got to see crime scene photos from local, but closed, cases and all they go through to recover bullets from houses and cars. Did you know that our home owners insurance usually covers the cost of cleanup from crime scenes and repairs of property damage done by law enforcement processing those crime scenes? One scene he showed us had nearly two dozen of holes in the walls, floor and a washing machine but only six bullets were shot. The ability of bullets to ricochet is what prompted someone in the audience to ask the lecturer if he believed in the “magic bullet theory” regarding the Kennedy assassination---the topic of the one lecture I didn’t like. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve seen ricochets do some crazy things.” In case you’ve forgotten, the Warren Commission concluded that one bullet entered Kennedy’s back, exited through his throat and went on to hit the governor riding in the front seat of the car. Conspiracy theorists dubbed it a magic bullet and dismissed it as not possible, giving rise to the two shooters and a coverup conspiracy. I didn’t like that Kennedy lecture, by the way, because I’d already seen more than my fair share of documentaries on the topic.

When I go to these lectures I usually pick a seat on the aisle, left hand side and about eight rows from the front. Why? I take notes and I don’t want anyone sitting on my right who could read what I’m writing---I’m left-handed and my hand can hide my words from someone sitting on the left. With the the 'Great Gatsby' house lecture recently, I broke that rule to sit in the last row with some friends and “the crafters”---a handful of woman who never go anywhere without their knitting or whatever fancy work they’re doing. When was the last time you’ve heard tatting, crocheting and cross-stitch called fancy work? Jeez, sometimes I think my head is stuck in the Victorian era, but I digress from what I wanted to write about and that would be---drum roll, please---purposely setting out to find something to like about a person that I’ve bristled around since I started going to the senior hall. She’s one of the crafters and I’ve avoided her because she’s very ‘churchy’ but my dislike intensified to an obsession last year when I overheard her refer the Obama family as “that infestation in the White House.” 

At the Gatsby lecture she was working on a loom, doing different stitches than I’ve ever done on mine so I got to talking to her about her work. She was sweet and patient showing me her methods and we agreed to bring a finish hat to the next senior hall event so we could compare them. We both followed through on that and as we talked I decided she and I are a microcosm of what is going on in the world. I’ve separated myself from someone who thinks differently from me on a couple of (important) topics without giving us a chance to get to know each other as complex human beings who might be able to find common ground on other topics. She introduced me to her husband as “the one who makes me laugh” and there was genuine warmth in her voice. Am I warming up to her? Yes. I decided if I want the world to be a more tolerant place then I need work on my own prejudices as well. Besides, she’s in her late eighties and I’m still young enough to run away should she start cooing over what a good job our current president is doing. I’m pretty sure she’s as smitten with him as I was with the cutie pie CSI guy. ©