Olive Knitting

Really, I promise, I will not start veering my posts in the direction of politics. I promise. Frankly, I find politics a little boring to discuss not to mention there are many more, better informed people than me to carry the discussions. BUT, just this once I have to say something…

The new “fence” embarrasses me. I’m not pissed or outraged or shocked, I’m embarrassed. I won’t go into my personal opinion here about the topic of immigration or immigrants, documented or not because, as I said there are better informed people than I to discuss this. Of course, I HAVE an opinion which is based on my own experiences, but, again, I won’t go into that here.

What I would like to say is that I find “the fence” really really childlike…and I don’t mean in the let’s wear stripes and plaids and pokadots together and go play in the sandbox. That kind of childlike is lovely and something, I personally believe adults are missing too much of, but I digress. “The fence” is childlike in the not-fully-developed-cognitively way. I know (I’ve been reminded a lot here in Italy) that I come from a young country but I was not aware that we are still in the concrete interpretation phase of our development (based on this I would put us somewhere between 2 and 11 years old).

When I first heard the BBC blurb (my only news outlet is the BBC on shortwave radio since we have no tv, I read no newspaper, and I hate surfing the net...'specially for shit about politics) about approval for "the fence" a vivid memory came to mind - The annual spring break vacation to Alabama that involved an 18 hour car ride from Wisconsin.

Sister Laurie and I in the backseat annoying each other – mostly me annoying her. Approximately 20 minutes into the drive Laurie declares that the seam down the middle of the seat is NOT, for any reason what so ever to be crossed by me. Yeah, right! Now I had a new game of slyly and not so slyly sliding my pinkie across the seam. And then, more annoyed, Laurie built “the fence”, with that big bag that carried car ride's entertainment and snacks. It was a physical barrier that she thought would deter me from getting what I wanted. I will repeat… yeah, right! Not able to slyly slide a pinkie over the seam any more I was forced to access what was available to me. Yep, my pinkie went immediately into her ear, my big toe between her toes, a twisting index finger in her hair.

As I said, I don't like to talk about politics. You can form your own opinions and arguements about my mental connections between Wisconsin, Alabama, Laurie, Lynn, USA, Mexico, treat bags and fences.