Reinvented

I lived in Australia for a couple of years, and one summer I went back for a visit. I stayed with my former landlady Joanie and her family, with whom I’d been close. They had introduced me to fish ‘n’ chips wrapped in newspaper; I introduced them to iced tea.

Joanie was happy to see me again. “And look,” she said. “We’re all set to celebrate your holiday on the 4th of July.” She opened the freezer door to reveal a turkey.

She had remembered the date. She had gone to some trouble to get a turkey, not, at the time, a popular meat in Australia. I made pumpkin pie, and we gave thanks for the freedom to be together, share stories, and catch up.

As your brats sizzle on the grill, don’t mind me. I’m over here in the corner with scones, jam, and tea. And turkey.

This morning a friend posted this on Facebook:

The meme begins with a call for a return to kindness and care for others. That’s something we can all get behind, right?

But then it turns into something ugly. “I’m going to make a bet, that out of my family and friends, less than 4 will take the time to put this on their wall.”

Put in simpler terms: the post starts by saying, “We need to be nice to each other.” Then it switches to say, “But most of you are jerks.”

The second part is a sucker punch to the first part.

I’ve been seeing a lot of this lately, and it needs to stop. If we want the world to become a more positive place, we need to stop leading with “nice” and following up with “obnoxious.” Look at these examples:

It starts with “Let’s not complain” and ends by complaining (“no one follows directions … they don’t read the post fully.”)

Here’s another one.

We can all get behind Autism acceptance, a worthy cause. But look at the second sentence: “I’m pretty sure I know the ones who will, but I’d like to be surprised by more of you.” Translation: Most of you won’t, but go ahead, surprise me. I dare you.

How does a smug, in-your-face challenge engender goodwill for someone else?

Another one, this time with a twist: accountability.

Certainly mental health issues deserve respect. But how does being disrespectful to friends (“… less than 4 will take the time…”) help raise awareness of mental health difficulties?

One more.

“I know many of you do not give a crap about this message because, the cancer has not affected you.” Look, you can’t have it both ways, meme writers and sharers. Either you’re asking for help or you’re being rude to your online friends. Even those who are honestly care are unlikely to respond to these angry words to “support, respect, and remember.”

If we want to live in a better world, we can start by refusing to share memes like these.

If we want to live in a kinder world, we need to be kind intentionally. As the first meme says, “We gotta do better.”

And before this conversation is hijacked, let me address what I’ve deliberately left out:

• The effectiveness of posting something online to raise awareness is irrelevant here. I’m only looking at the one-two punch in so many of them.
• The lapses in standard writing style in these memes? Irrelevant here.
• These posts are often copied/pasted or shared, leaving behind a trail of personal information that can be used for malicious purposes. That’s a serious problem, but it’s irrelevant here.

It started with a post to the church Facebook page on a random Saturday morning, 9 a.m.:

Good morning my name is Tyler I rededicate my life to the lord I got it work out with my train ticket I’m leaving tonight on train Tonight was wondering if you could help me with a meal and some snacks for my trip? Sorry I feel embarrassed talk to you later… great sermons online

I’m one of the people authorized to respond to messages like this on the church page. A quick check of his FB profile indicated that he hadn’t posted anything to it in 6 years. This was most likely someone using an abandoned account to scam people. If I continued, he’d probably ask me for money before too long. There was a chance he was sincere, but it seemed very unlikely to me. I sent a polite “sorry”:

Hi, Tyler! Your Facebook profile says you’re in California, so I don’t think we’re close enough to help you. God bless you on your journey.

Oh, no, he answered. He was in town, leaving on the train tonight.

Now, I’ve dealt with scam artists before. For me the fun lies in stringing them along for as long as I can until they realize I figured them out 10 minutes ago. I rubbed my hands in glee.

I’ll be happy to help you with a meal and some snacks. I’ll meet you at the train station. What time does your train leave?

His train left in the wee hours of the morning, he said.

That was right – the only train out of town left at 3 a.m.

He still hadn’t asked me for money, so I invited him to meet me for lunch downtown at the Bistro and promised him some snacks to go. Call his bluff in a public location.

He said OK.

The Bistro is a small-town coffeeshop where everybody knows everybody. I got there early and told the staff what was going on, including my firm belief that no one was going to show up, but that he would ask me for money. IF he showed up at all. Everyone was curious. I shared a story of the last scammer who crossed my path, proudly ending with “By the time it was over, he was saying, ‘Lady, I have to go.'”

I made this into a community event. “Oh! He just texted that he’s lost – can’t find the courthouse!” (Group scorn) “Oh, he just texted that the courthouse is closed! Ya think?” (Group sarcasm) I never expected anyone to show up. I expected him to ask me to Venmo some cash. 

He liked the sloppy joe special. He shared stories about different places in California, where he’s from. We talked about people not getting along and about being able to disagree with respect. He shared wisdom from his mother.

We talked for about an hour. My friend made sure he had chips and cookies to take with him. We said a prayer for his safety, and we called it a day. I came home humbled. 

I started the morning very cynical about this situation; I was looking forward to putting a scam artist to shame. Instead, the shame is on me for judging someone who just wanted something to eat. There’s a sermon here, and I hope I’m listening.

Note: “Tyler” is not his real name, and the young man in the photo is not the young man I met.