Berkeley, The Bill of Rights, and Rocky Horror

Trying one last time for L's blog.

thehomesickhome.blogspot.com - or check the comments under Blog Surgery - it's there. complete with all the extra letters and slashes you need to add.

Dinner with the boys and Melissa was great. We all needed some fun for a change. Melissa (Jim's wife) is a sweetie who laughs a lot. She and Jim seem so perfect together.

Back to Rocky Horror, Part 2

For some reason, the kids weren't satisfied with S. F. for Rocky Horror - they wanted to check out Berkeley. Berkeley had a super show, almost professonally choreographed, which had been running forever. In spite of how I feel about the Bay Bridge, we went.

The Strand in S. F. let us bring almost anything into the theater except knives or firearms. We brought all our props with us. Berkeley was different and a little on the snobby side. We already knew we couldn't take anything in. Maybe a lighter or flashlight for one song, but that's all. No cards, no popcorn, no squirt guns, no fun at all. Oh well. They handed out tiny sacks of rice. Whoopee. As I said, we knew this ahead of time. I didn't carry a purse so it wouldn't be subject to search. It's what we didn't know that caused the problem.

We paid for our tickets and, as we walked in, I was grabbed by this large, male, person who had his hands all over my body. I passed "inspection" and went in with the kids and sat there literally weeping in the dark; not so much for the humiliation (although that was part of it) but with absolute rage. I almost never cry except over sad songs, movies, and sometimes for happiness. I finally walked out about 3/4 of the way through the film and sat in the car waiting for them. I studied the marquee and the front entrance to the theater. There were no signs informing us that our persons were subject to "pat down". (It was more than that, it was groping). I had watched their behavior with the younger women as well. They were enjoying their jobs entirely too much.

The next day, I phoned a lawyer. It wasn't really his field (his was, like mine, maritime) but he was sympathetic. He wrote a letter to the theater and I believe they put up a sign. That was all I wanted. If they had reason to believe some patrons might be a threat, then they had a right to search. I, on the other hand, had a right to refuse by leaving. They took my choice away. In any event, they should have had women searching women.

It was at least three years before I went back to Berkeley and then only because some out-of-town visitors had never seen Rocky Horror and it was the wrong night for San Francisco. Nobody patted us down. I went through all the motions with my friends, even doing the "Time Warp" in the aisle with them but my first experience wasn't far from the front of my mind and I just wanted it to be over.

Tim understands it now; he was a little bewildered back than. Now he says he would walk out as well.

Every time I think to myself that I may be something of an extremist in defense of individual liberty and right to privacy, I remember that night and how powerless I felt. I don't want me or anyone else to have to feel that way. If it means I overreact once in a while, it's better than not reacting at all.

Kids long since sleeping, Rebecca had a good homework night if she remembers to turn it in. She tells me no one looks at it; they just put a check mark after her name and hand it back. What a total waste of time. How do they know what she's learning? We spent almost 2 hours on about 15 math questions. By the time we were done, she knew how figure the area of a rectangle and how to get the perimeter, given the area and one side. She didn't when we started. She knew how to check back to make sure she was correct. We used graph paper and drew rectangles. I am sick of the rectangle. Then, back to fractions. I had to shift gears and teach her how to add unlike fractions and I couldn't remember. I do them in my head. We took a short break while I got my act back together. By then I remembered the procedure. I hope I'm teaching her modern procedures but if I'm not, so what. The answers are right. She's way behind on math. I don't know if she doesn't pay attention, if it's poorly taught, or a combination. For one thing, they don't spend enough time on one section before they're on to the next. Why are fractions and geometry in the same section of the math book? The teacher won't answer her questions; just tells her to go do it. Huh? He and I are definitely going to have a chat. She's proven to me she can do most of the work; it's just getting her to focus and having the patience to explain more than once and write as I'm explaining so she can see the answers take shape.

The schools are so threatened by the tests that I think they cram too much into too short a time. Some kids may thrive on it but not all and there doesn't seem to be much room in the public schools for variables unless they go into special ed like Rochelle. Anyhow, I've made it a goal that Rebecca and I will conquer math together, provided she stops fibbing, settles down, and tries. We'll see what happens. Please Lord, give me patience. It's not my long suit.

It's almost 2:00 a.m. and I'm exhausted but not sleepy. I think I'll go work on a crossword puzzle and listen to a little music. That usually does it.

After I check out my friends' blogs that is.

P. S. I just walked back through the living room. I have one on the couch and one on the floor. I don't know when they got there. Two sleepwalkers? I covered the one (Rebecca) on the couch. Rochelle was fine. She was on a sheet and had covered herself. No way do I wake them to send them to bed. They usually sleep in the living room on weekends. It's like a campout for them but we have a "rule" about school nights. Very odd. Maybe one had a bad dream and the other followed while I was in the laundry room. I would have seen them from here. They have to come down a long hall from their bedroom, past mine, turn a corner, and then into the living room.

Good night again.