Mrs. Stern, Matilda’s Law, Prissy Butt, and More

Some random thoughts on lockdowns, looting, and assorted other things: Commencing with the “Mrs. Stern Moment.” I have written about this phenomenon before. For those unfamiliar with it, permit me to elaborate: Mrs. Stern was a customer in a store that I—decades ago—worked in called Pet Nosh. She was a very nice woman, albeit on the neurotic side, who fed stray animals and financially assisted others who took in homeless cats and dogs. The lady was also a Nazi concentration camp survivor. She never talked about that experience, but I couldn’t help but notice the tattooed serial number on her arm. Mrs. Stern was also a gifted pianist who invited me to a recital at her home at some point. In retrospect, I should have attended, but didn’t.

Anyway, one day Mrs. Stern came into the shop even more apprehensive than usual. She had just had an encounter that so moved her. While waiting at a traffic light with her car windows rolled down on a pleasant summer’s day, Mrs. Stern sneezed. And a man in the car alongside of her said, “God bless you.” Not just any man, but a black man. Mrs. Stern considered that little interplay so incredibly special—the bridging of races, as it were—that she was practically in tears.

Now, I have experienced “Mrs. Stern Moments” through the years, although less dramatic than that extraordinary meeting at a red light. For instance, yesterday, I was at a drugstore, which is finally allowing patrons inside again. As I waited my turn—cognizant of Matilda's Law and the importance of social distancing—a young black man was speaking with a cashier about our current, troubled state of affairs. He was the quintessential voice of reason in explaining that the police need to get their act together in weeding out the bad apples among them. But he also expressed sympathy for the difficult job they have to do. I thought, then, about all the hysterical people on social media—and just about everywhere else—taking one side or the other side with no room for compromise. When the man exited the store, he passed me by and we both said, “Take care” or some such parting salvo. It was yet another Mrs. Stern Moment.

Speaking of social media, there are more than a fair share of “prissy butts” speaking their pieces in the virtual ether. Mary Ellen called Erin a “prissy butt” in The Homecoming, the movie that inspired the TV series, The Waltons. Actually, it’s the only time I ever heard that expression used. Justice Potter Stewart once explained how obscene speech, such as hard-core pornography is not protected speech. “I know it when I see it,” he famously said. The same thinking applies to a prissy butt—I know one when I see one. Examples of prissy butts: Men and women who sit around at home with their smartphones encouraging looting and arson far away from the looting and arson—the same people, by the way, who several weeks ago were up in arms because the local supermarket didn’t have their preferred brand of toilet paper, favorite Starbucks drink, or any liquid soap at all.

A reporter asked Governor Cuomo at his daily briefing yesterday about the considerable police presence in New York, particularly New York City. She wanted him to explain how that helps a volatile situation that is grounded in police overreach. He explained to her what should have been incredibly obvious: It’s to stop the looting and arson of innocent people’s property. The governor essentially told the reporter that she wouldn’t be asking such a stupid question if her home or business was threatened. I would have asked him about the demise of Matilda’s Law.

While on this subject, how about ESPN reporter Chris Martin Palmer’s tweets. One moment he comments on a photo of a building—low-income housing in Minneapolis—set afire during the riots and tweets: “Burn, that shit down. Burn it all down.” A few days later when the looters are closing in on his neighborhood, he tweets: “They just attacked our sister community down the street. It’s a gated community and they tried to climb the gates. They had to beat them back. Then destroyed a Starbucks and are now in front of my building. Get these animals TF out of my neighborhood. Go back to where you live.” You have to love these armchair arsonists.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)