Of reactions and protests

I shared this photo on social media earlier this week when the power failed at the grocery store I was in. It was creepy and I'm just glad I was near the wine and cheese aisle.

I was inside a large grocery store when the power failed earlier this week.

It was 10 a.m., Monday. The weather outside was dreary, not snowy or windy. Just winter in Colorado weather.

The power simply shut off as I reached for a jar of peanut butter to take home for my sick husband’s lunch. I put the jar in the grocery cart and pulled out my mobile phone to use the phone’s flashlight.

Then, I walked quickly to the back of the store, near an entrance to the freight room and pharmacy.

Elsewhere, people were hurrying toward the cashiers at the front who were explaining that during a power failure they, in fact, cannot help anyone pay for their groceries.

Having worked in a grocery store throughout college, I know the freight rooms often have several emergency exits and are dark places where someone can hide or run away. Additionally, the pharmacy has a large metal gate and security entrances around it. In a pinch, I thought I could talk myself into that secure location if necessary.  

Although we were in the dark for only about five or six minutes, I was struck by how quickly I went into defensive mode.

I walked to the back of the store.

I kept my phone’s flashlight on.

I texted The Weed telling him his peanut butter sandwiches might be late because the power failed. Or, breaking news: Someone likely started a zombie apocalypse without notifying me and the only thing comforting me was being near what I thought to be safe places and the wine and cheese aisle.

The Weed responded: ‘Weird!’

Fortunately, the power returned rather quickly and everyone at that grocery store could continue living rather mundane Mondays. I hope.

This strange start to the week continued later that night when The Weed returned from outside walking Luka and Layla to tell me there was a wolf running loose in the neighborhood. I laughed and told him to calm down.

Me: ‘I’m the one who tells stories around here, man.’

The Weed then pointed out a nearby window as a giant black and gray dog dashed past our house.

So, I ran out the door with a bag of dog treats. No coat. No shoes.

When outside, I stood quietly and whistled for the dog. It (a large dog not wolf) eventually ran out of a neighbor’s yard and got close enough so I could offer it a few treats and get my hands on what looked to be a broken harness on its back.

The dog responded by jumping out of my grip and bolting down the street without a second thought about my attempt to help.

Dejected, I returned to the house and grabbed some shoes, a coat, and a dog leash in hopes the animal would return and apologize for being so dismissive of me.

No dice. I didn’t see the dog after that. I’m hopeful it made its way back to a warm home and family.

When considering these two situations all in one day, it struck me how differently I reacted and how differently either one could have ended.

Recently, a family member and I had a lengthy conversation about the ICE raids and citizen protests in Minneapolis. My family member shared their thoughts about the people protesting and trying to interfere with the ICE officers’ efforts.

In short, this family member said they believe the citizen protestors are risking their lives and those of the ICE officers. My family member counseled that people should comply with law enforcement when told to do so.

Without going into all of our talking points, just know my family member and I agreed to disagree about how we feel about the ICE raids in Minneapolis and around the country.

I have marched. I have protested. I, however, have not stood against a group of masked people with guns driving unmarked cars.

I just don’t know how I’d react in that situation, and I never will judge how someone else does.