Encounter with the Mall Clerk

Went to the post office in the Mall.  The Clerk does not acknowledge me. She slouches over to the counter and barely asks what I want.  Her mannerisms display a clear lack or concern, as if she is bored and can't be bothered.  I ask if I should make the package smaller to lower the price and she sneers an answer.  Al-righty!  It doesn't matter what she said; it was how she said it.

I hold out $20.05 for the $9.05 bill. She cannot even look at my hand to notice that I am holding a nickle with the twenty. I tell her twice I have a nickle. She doesn't respond but finally throws the change she has started to count back into the till and takes the nickle from me.

OK, this lady needs some lessons in etiquette and...or... she must be having a bad day.

As I turn to leave, I hear this Clerk say to the Customer behind me, "Hiiii! How may I help you?" and I hear all manner of perkiness from said Clerk.

I wait for the Customer to come out. She is a lovely grandmother type. I approach her cautiously and say "Excuse me, I just want to check if I'm crazy. Do you think that lady was rude to me?" She agreed with me wholeheartedly that she was very rude to me, and even told me that she saw the clerk roll her eyes when she took the nickle from me.

I shopped a couple of minutes to think things through and pray.  First, approach the person who offended you.  As I approach the Clerk I can see she is already bristling. As I stand at the counter, she is brimming over with a double-shot of attitude. I say, "Do you remember me?" The disgust in her "yes" is palpable, as they say in bad novels. "I just wanted to know if I did or said something to offend you," to which she replied, "Oh I am just having a bad day."

"Well, that's what I thought, but then I saw how polite you were to the woman behind me and I just wanted to know if I offended you somehow." She repeatedly says that "everything's fine" and sorry if I was offended. Hmmm, call me cynical but I don't think she really meant it!  Not only was she [at least] rude, she was also a coward.

So, I spend a few minutes thinking some more, then I went to the Mall Office and shared the situation. It was obvious from the Mall Woman's expression that this was not the first complaint about said Clerk. She said she would take care of it, and she apologized to me.

*

So what do you think happened?

Need I tell you the Clerk was white?  

and that the grandmotherly Customer was also white?

*

I have so many friends that do not think East Asians are on the receiving end of prejudice or racism in all it's ugly glory.  How else could I interpret what happened?

The Value of Learning

Everywhere I turn, it seems, there is a discussion about what is really wrong with American education and What We Should Do About It. I, like others, think I have an answer.  Let's start by getting rid of the phrase:

I/he/she will never use it.

As in, "What's the point of learning _______ ? I/he/she will never use it!"  That would be for reading literature, learning algebra, dissecting a frog, or any endeavor that is not to someone's liking.  And really, on a day-to-day level, what more do you need than to know your letters, count your change and tie your shoelaces?  Hence, there is no respect for learning and no respect for intelligence.  [I could go off here on the deplorable state of Gifted education, but I won't.]  If you don't value something, why would you want it?  Why would you seek it?  Why would you encourage others to seek it?

We Americans, we're very practical.  My 4th grade son is learning about the western expansion.  It's like we've never gotten passed the 1800s.  Don't take anything ya can't use.  Ya might have to dump it before ya cross the O-hyer Rivah.  [I don't know what accent that is.  It might be Hollywood Westernese.]

Here's what every Korean knows: All knowledge and learning is good.  I'm not even sure they understand it; they just know it's true.  I'm sure it has to do with the Confucian thought brought from China.  I don't know much about it, like The Korean does, except this:  In the olden days, you rose in society by passing the National Civil Service Exam.  Even if you were born in the wrong class, you could be smart and diligent, learn, and take the test.  These tests were going on when Italy hadn't even had their Renaissance.  So, it's an understatement to say this is deeply rooted.  Americans think we can get ahead by being the next American Idol, buying lottery tickets or getting in the NBA.  In fact, when someone is getting a degree in English Literature, the first thing you're likely to hear is, "What is he/she going to do with that??"  or, "What a waste of his/her parents' money!"  But Koreans?  We get ahead by studying.  In fact, no matter what a Korean may think about a person, all you have to do is tell them he/she went to an Ivy League school and said Korean will stop saying anything except "Nnnng" and "Aaaah."  Tell them the person got a degree is Mathematics or Physics?  They'll swoon and want you to marry their son/daughter.

I'm sure there are theses about learning and the brain and all, but this, I know: 

Learning stuff makes your brain stronger.

Would you say to a fullback not to lift weights because he won't use barbells on the field?  Ridiculous, right?  Exercising your body prepares you to run faster, carry more, throw harder.  That's what your body is for: to DO stuff.  Your brain?  It's to THINK stuff.  To KNOW stuff.  Exercising your brain - the weightlifting with drills and memorization, music, poetry, the quadratic equation - primes your brain to think faster, learn more, solve harder problems.   And what if you learned something just for the beauty and appreciation of it?  It doesn't matter whether you're "smart" or not.  It applies to every brain. 

My college had a slogan, something like "We don't teach you how to do something; we teach you to do anything."  I love that.  That's why you learn stuff, not because you're going to use that particular task at your industrial, assembly line job.  With every formula you memorize, and solve, even incorrectly, you learn building block by building block the beginning of how philosophy, beautiful words, colors, animals, the stars -- are created, developed and understood.  You begin to understand not only the wonder and beauty of what you learn, but the very important lesson that THERE IS MORE.  And that maybe, you'll want to learn it.

There's a saying, "When I was young I thought I knew everything.  Now that I am old, I know I know nothing."  Or some such.  It's as important to know something as to know that there's more; that is, that you don't know everything.

We need to accept that learning is to be human, to be the best we can be.  We need to value learning just for what it is.  Our model for education is over a hundred  years old, designed to train our children for their city jobs in the factories of the Industrial Revolution.  Reading Riting Rithmatic.  Changing the system won't help until we change our heart.  Education is about strengthening the brain; that control center of our being:

Not just to do something, but to do anything.

We have to value learning.  Because everything you learn, you will use it.  Just not in the way you think.

The Korean Spa

You’ll find this to be the perfect post, a contrast, to follow my last one about wrinkled knees and growing old.

Earlier this week, my best friend and I went to a Korean spa [or sauna.] There are several interesting aspects to a Korean spa, but the best is the whole body exfoliation that leaves your skin feeling…well, like a baby’s be-hind.  There is an entire bathing ritual that we Koreans go through that keeps our skin soft and supple.

*Yaaaawn*  What is she going on about??
Stay with me here, especially if you’d like to get your entire body feeling as soft as….

In preparation, I went to their website for Chung Dam Spa, which had some basic information and photos of services.  You can get a body scrub and/or massage, eat lunch there, work out.  You can go to a dry sauna, a steam sauna, clay room and mineral room. But  I wanted to know a little more – do I need to bring anything?  Where do I go?   In essence what happens when I get there?  I called and left a message and never heard back. Did I say I’ve done this before?  Would it be the same?  Will they start speaking Korean to me?  Will they speak English?  Will they judge me for not being fluent?  And the real question: Do I have to get nekkid??  [The answer is “yes.”]

Chung Dam Spa, apparently the only one in all of Pennsylvania, is located at the end of a strip shopping center in Cheltenham, the first northern-most suburb of Philadelphia.  Here, you’ll see many signs in Korean as you drive past several Korean groceries and a number of Korean restaurants. If you look over at the driver in the next lane, he/she will as likely be Korean as black.  But I digress.  The entrance is on the side, not visible from busy Cheltenham Avenue.  We entered the glass and brass doors and down marble steps to a very clean lobby lined in marble and granite.  To our right we saw a little café, and further down was a workout room.

At the front desk, when we asked for a Body Scrub, we were told that for just $20 more, we could get a 45 minute massage.  Oh yeah.  Who could refuse that?  We were given a locker key on a plastic holder to put around our wrist or ankle, and a set of towels and a robe.  [The towels are thin and small because  Koreans don’t like big, thick towels.]  We had to remove our shoes before entering the women’s area.  [Remember Koreans don’t wear shoes in living areas.]  We went through the curtains to an immaculate locker/lounge area.  Beyond, we saw some doors leading to heated treatment rooms.  We also saw glass doors to what looked like a shower area.  Nobody guided us, there were no signs or directions but a we  figured out we were to head in there to shower, soak in the tubs and/or use the dry or steam saunas.  Nekkid.  When we arrived, there were only a couple of women, but later on, there were nekid women all over the place.  The good, the bad, the old, the saggy.

The scrub and massage are all done in the Wet Area, which consisted of multiple shower stations, 3 soaking tubs, and the treatment area.  The treatment area had 3 tables with 2 spigots.  While my friend and I occupied 2 of the tables, there were other customers receiving treatment at the 3rd table.

The Scrub 

They use a special scrubbing mitt with a variety of potions to slough off your dead skin.  They get every nook and cranny of your body, from between your toes to the tip of your chin and everywhere in between.  They flip and fold your limbs around and scrub.  And scrub.  And scrub.  If you choose to look, you’ll wonder why there are rolls and globs of wet toilet paper on the table.  You’ll soon realize it’s your dead skin.  Eewwwwww!  Right?  The appalling realization is that you’ve been walking around with all that dead skin on.  THAT is the real Ewwww.  No wonder all those lotions haven’t been working!  Don’t be shocked when intermittently, they dump a basin of hot water over you.  They also use various potions, including warm milk, to clarify and nourish your body.  This goes on for 45 minutes. 

You shower again, and have a chance to go to the saunas if you choose before the next 45-minute session:

The Massage

This is a unique Korean method that every single massage therapist in Korea employs.  I remember these techniques from when I was a little girl as I watched my grandma getting a massage.    [Back in the day, the blind were trained as massage therapists so they could earn a living.]  It’s a combination of hitting pressure points, releasing knots in your muscles and somewhat shocking hits that feel good and wake your senses.  I’ve had American spa massages before, which leave me snoozing in a candle-lit room.  Afterwards, I feel very relaxed, but a little sensory deprived, unwilling to re-enter the real world.  This experience, however, left me relaxed but strangely refreshed and invigorated, with my senses made alive, ready to take on the world!   The first thing they did was apply a mashed cucumber potion on my face.  It’s got astringent qualities that left my face….yes, soft as a baby’s be-hind.  She finished off the 45-minute massage with a shampoo and head massage.  Aaaaaah.

Bibimbap from maangchi.com

Afterwards, we went to our locker and gave the women their tips*.  Then we were allowed to stay as long as we wanted.  Really.  We could stay there from the moment they open until the moment they close.  What an escape!  We chose to get some lunch, so we put on the provided bath robes and scuffled over.  Yes, there were men there.  Yes there were people in their street clothes.  We ate, went back in, read some magazines, and when we were good and bored, we packed up and went home.  But it took us 4 hours to get bored.

Other things to keep in mind if you go:

1. Leave your sexuality at the door.  Koreans don’t have the same view of their bodies, the self-consciousness of Westerners.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, they’re as vain as the rest of us.  Koreans have more plastic surgery per capita than any country in the world.  In.  The. World.  [Usually eye and nose augmentations to look more western.]  The Korean sauna is a very therapeutic environment.  If you act embarrassed by partially covering delicate areas, you make yourself become a sexual being.  If you stand in the mirror and preen and admire or even criticize your body, you are bringing something in where it don’t belong.
2.  Do not expect privacy.   Everyone is walking around buck.  Naked.  Know what I’m sayin?  If you’re going to be shy, see #1 above.
3. This is not your notion of a Zen experience.   Leave your preconceived notions about East Asians at the door.  [There might be a pile of stuff at the door!]  There are no tea ceremonies, geishas or submissive guides.   Do not expect Enya to be playing, fragranced candles, patchouli or life-affirming posters.  Water is splashing, the spigot’s running, people are talking… and loudly.  You are pampered in that when you get your scrub and/or massage, it is completely and totally about you.  It’s just that it's a bit more like…mmm, the kitchen let’s say, than the bedroom.  More like a workroom than a chapel.
4. You must tip*:  These women expect a tip and there are clear guidelines for how much to give, which is 20% - 30%.
5. Go Au Natural - Despite all my What I Wore posts, and fashion pleadings, don’t bother putting on make-up or doing your hair.  Leave all your jewelry at home, or in your locker.
6. Bring your own beauty products - they have everything there - soap, shampoo, conditioner, lotions, hair spray, hair dryer, brushes, toothbrushes, toothpaste.  But you may want to bring your own little bucket of items.

As I sit in front of this screen trying awkwardly to convey the experience, I pause and subconsciously stroke my face or neck, or rub my arm.  My knees are still wrinkled, but my skin? Yup....

Fashion Friday - Growing Old - the Ajumma

There's a subtle change in my header.  I've added "over-50" to it.  But it's not a subtle change in my life.  It looms over me every day, aware of my mortality.

It's not anything deep, really.  It started out with the number of white hairs I'm getting. I still have mostly black hair, but the sprouting of white hairs in my hairline is becoming more prominent.  Then, as I sat at my vanity with the magnifying mirror, I noticed now different my skin is.  Suddenly.  Sags.  Bags.  And the full-length mirror?  Flat where it used to be pert.

I heard a comedian late one night on TV riffing on being east Asian.  He said that Asian women look exactly the same for decades - then BANG! they get old.  It's true.  I know a lot of Asian women accept this "mature" status - of becoming the "Ajumma."  That's what a young person calls an older woman.  Ajumma is permed hair and ankle socks.  Ajumma is a floral dress and shuffling steps.  Ajumma is the lady selling noodle dishes at the stand.  It's the "Ma'am" of Korean.  That word makes me shudder.  All my life, I looked young for my age.  Now, I actually look my age.  And I don't like it.  One bit.

Some of you may think it's alright, even laudable to see those Hollywood types get filled, plugged, sliced and spliced to look young.  To me, it's slightly ridiculous to hold onto your youth when that train left the station a loooong time ago.  When I do my Fashion Fridays or What I Wore Wednesdays, I'm always wondering how not to look ridiculous, if I'm trying too hard.

Now, as the weather turns warm and we have these unusual high-70s weather, I wonder -- can I wear shorts?  Cuz the latest thing?

My KNEES are wrinkled.

Maybe what I should do is stop looking at my knees and get ON my knees.






*grandma in Korean

What I Wore Wednesday: 3.21.12

What I Wore: My fave Calvin Klein denim jacket over a Land's End classic poplin shirt in a pale orchid pink, and black skinnies.  Silver accents: large stud earrings, circle link necklace and Old Navy kitten-heels.  And my orange purse.
Where: Out to dinner at our fave hang-out!

 
What I Wore: Fuschia jacket from Christopher & Banks over a Talbot's lemon yellow v-neck tee, and black skinnies.  Silver, yellow & blue earrings & necklace set from etsy, and spectator flats.  And "Greycian Goddess" nail color by L'Oreal  [I was wondering if I was too matchy-matchy but I was running late and had to just go!]
Where: To my son's chess club.

You know where to click to to see the others!

Nation and Culture

On the one hand, the United State has a dominant WASP culture.  The powers that be are still, on the whole, white Protestant males.  And many, I can say, think of America as being a WASP nation, and consider anything else to be, at best, suspect.  Why else is there the persistent rumor that Obama is a Muslim?  As if being a Muslim were proof that he is un-American. It wasn't long ago when being from Ireland was un-American.  Éirinn go brách.

On the other hand, we recognize the variety of cultures that make up this nation.  Melting Pot and all that.  These cultures could be ethnic heritage, national origin, religious practice, religious heritage and even variances of regional norms:

We may have been here for over 100 years, like the ethnic Koreans of Hawaii, or over 200 years like ethnic Africans brought over into slavery.  Or even recent immigrants like my family.  There are those, that on the surface fit the stereotype of an American but are clearly from another country, like Ahnold.  When I walk down the streets of my little town, I can't go but a block without seeing a black American woman wearing a burqa.  Even those that may not practice their religion clearly harbor the cultural norms instilled in them - like those who dress up for church on 2 Sundays a year.  When I went to graduate school in St. Louis, I was shocked at the regional differences in manners and speech from my Pennsylvania ways.  And anyone who has crossed the Mason-Dixon line will immediately feel the difference. 

And we're all Americans, right?  Different cultures, one nation.

Maybe the Melting Pot is only nice in concept.  NIMB: Not In My Backyard.  It's all nice to have "interesting" folks around, but don't make me have to smell their funny cooking, or try to understand their accent, or translate documents for them.  Maybe the Melting Pot is only nice if it looks and smells like mashed potatoes.

Today I heard that former Senator Santorum said, in effect, that if Puerto Rico wants statehood, they have to speak English.  He said this in Puerto Rico.  To Puerto Ricans.

I'll let you take that in.

(whistling)

I hope he knows there's no such provision in federal law.

[Oops, I think I'm breaking my guideline for succinct posts.]

A nation of monolinguals may, of course, consider language to be merely a flamboyance, like a fancy scarf.  Leave it in the closet, unless you want to make others feel uncomfortable or show your disdain for them.  Language is not a feather boa.  It's a ladder.  To your soul.  The more languages you know, the more you can know.  It's like love - the more you love, the more you can love.

On the one hand, Americans seem to be proud of the Melting Pot.  On the other had, Americans seem to insist that things melt into White.  Mashed potatoes.  Or would that be English?  Is English the line in the sand?  Stand on this side of the line and you're American.  Stand over there, and you're un-American.  Unpatriotic.

Must we be a nation of Either/Or?
Because me?  I want to be a nation of Both/And.
Messy.
Rich.
Interesting.

One nation, many cultures.

What I Wore Wednesday, Pi Day 2012

It's Wednesday, the daffodils are out and the birds are singing! This is my favorite time or year when I don't have to bundle up and I can run out with a denim jacket, which I was able to do this past week!

What I Wore: Trina Turk wrap-front cotton poplin shirt [here's a better view] over skinny jeans.  Cap by Nine West, two-toned jewelry by J.Lo.  Patent black, round-toe wedges by Me Too.  The orange bag is by Tignanello.  Which I love.  LOVE.  I remember my 5th grade teacher telling me you love people and like objects.  Well, in this case, she was wrong.
Where: to my son's school for a meeting.

What I Wore: Flutter-sleeve empire-waisted tunic top from H&M over a chartreuse cami, wide leg trouser jeans by apostrophe (Sears.)  Two-toned jewelry by J.Lo.  Patent black, round-toe wedges by Me Too.  Yeah, and my orange bag.  Yumm!
Where: We were in Baltimore recently, which allowed us to visit dear friends for a delicious meal at their home. Double-yumm!

What I Wore: Talbot's classic navy double-breasted wool jacket over a cotton poplin shirt in celery and Ann Taylor gray wool slacks.  Farragamo aqua wool scarf and Etienne Aigner cut-out pumps.  Two-toned jewelry by J.Lo.
Where: HH (Handsome Husband) gave a presentation at a local church on the explosion of diabetes and its affect on our ministries.  And yes, we still have poinsettias in our hall!

What I Wore:  YAY denim jacket weather!  Calvin Klein over-dyed fitted jacket over a bright melon scoop-necked tee by Ann Taylor and skinny black jeans.  Simple silver-stud earrings and link necklace.  Modified Mary Jane shoes by Naturalizer.
Where: out to dinner at our local hang-out on a Tuesday night

Check out the other mom styles at The Pleated Poppy!

Towels and Socks

**I'll be back with What I Wore when I get my desktop from the repair shop.**

Until then...by latest brain dump:

The other week, I was in a conversation with 2 other women.  And per my peri-menapausal self, I have no idea who they were.  But I do remember the conversation.  Of course my recollection could be all wrong.  But well, I'm getting a blog post out of it anyway!

One woman was young and was soon to be married.  She relayed that her fiance was very helpful with housework and that they had done laundry together.  She, with a light but nevertheless conspiratorial tone, explained how he did not know how to fold towels.  She contended that a towel should be folded in half then again in half, but then it needed to be folded in THIRDS. 
"I KNOoooow, right?!!"  
The two women giggled at the helplessness and hopelessness of men.  Never mind that I don't fold mine in thirds because a) I'm lazy that way and b) they wouldn't fit in my linen closet. 

Surely you have, or you have heard other women roll their eyes when the dad dresses the children and it's not to the woman's liking.  You know, the sox may not match.  Or GOD FORBID, he put the wrong pink leggings on the girl.  I suppose we women pride ourselves on these trivial matters.  We also judge each other for them.  And hence, we might feel self-counscious, that the mismatched socks would be a reflection on our womanhood.

We women can be so quick to joke about men and their ineptitude about household matters.  We may not mean to be mean, but in the end, the constant, little undercutting is, well, mean.  I wanted to tell this young woman, that this eye-rolling at the trivialities of life is but just the first foundation stone laid for their marriage.  That she won't like the way he does the dishes.  Or dry them.  She won't like the shirt he put on for the party.  Or his favorite chair.  She won't like the socks he put on their child.
She might start relaying these stories.  At the party.  Or correct him in front of others.  Little harmless put downs.
Then she'll fight with him because he won't help around the house.

What I Wore Wednesday 2.15.12

Really.  Honestly.  I have several serious posts I'm working on.  Just not coming together.  I hope my clothes came together better!  So.  Fashion isn't that serious.  Really.  So why do I do so much about fashion?  Read this.

Want to see what makes me smile?  This!

I have been looking and looking and looking for the perfect purse.  A perfect purse for me goes like this:

1. Has to go over my shoulders.  None of this Queen Elizabeth over the elbow thing.
2. Leather.
3. Simple, structured, stylish but classic.  Not flopsy mopsy bangly.
4. Separate interior compartments in addition to the little side pockets.
5. Can't be more than my food budget.

And here, in the Tignanello Perfect 10 Studded Shopper, I have found it!  As a bonus, I love that thethe buckles and details are the same on both sides.  If you wonder how I'll make an orange purse go with all my outfits, well let me tell you.  I will just SUFFER through it!  I do believe I did it yesterday, for my son's Valentine's day party at school:

Look!  I'm doing that "look down as if my husband isn't taking a picture of me for the internet!"

Black Willi Smith drape cardigan over a magenta Ann Taylor satin ribbon trimmed t-shirt.  Vintage black jeans by Gloria Vanderbilt that I converted to skinny jeans, pewter ballet flats by Me Too, somewhat like these.

I'm loving the hematite/ dark gray tones of jewelry: bracelet from Talbot's, necklaces from (top to bottom) Silpada, Boscov's and Greece (the country.)

That's all I got forya!  Check out The Pleated Poppy, who posts what she wore in INDIA!  (I know!!)  and the other What I Wore Wednesday posts.

Did You Notice That Big Cross?

I've been reading a few articles about this Health & Human Services mandate requiring the coverage of birth control and abortions, as a matter of a woman's health and well-being, they say, even if it is against the beliefs of the employers, the Catholics, let's say.  I know there are many aspects - too many to count - to this discussion, but it made me think back to something in my life from a few years ago.

When Boo was 2, I looked around for a preschool for him.  I write "for him," but really, it was for me.  Almost any mother will remember those days of toddlerhood when your child needed every nano second of your attention, every ounce of your strength and squeezed every drop of your patience.  So I did my usual careful research, and with pen and chart in hand, I trudged from place to place.

I first went to the YWCA, wanting diversity most of all for him.  (Of course, safety was the most important.)  I made an appointment, full of hope for a better, more peaceful world.  It was located in a part of town with a large black and Hispanic population, many of them poor, in this part of town.  I saw the manifestations of their mission, to help parents who lacked good parenting skills - that is, children who "needed guidance," shall we say.  I decided against that culture for my son.  It broke my little liberal heart, but when push came to shove, my child came first.

I then went to the Jewish synagogue, looking for diversity of a different kind.  I expected and looked forward to little Boo learning about shabat and bitter herbs and the oil that lasted and lasted.  I knew he would not be learning about Easter.  In the end, I think it was some mundane issue like their schedule that lead me to move down my roster.

I went to a protestant church school that had a good reputation, supposedly the place to go for upper-crust townians.  It saddened me somewhat to consider the notion of his being surrounded by what I assumed would be white middle-class teachers and white middle-class kids.  There would be the blond moms in their mini-vans and Land Rovers, little kids wearing Gymboree with matching ribbons.  It was a nice building with plenty of parking, an adjacent fenced-in play ground, good adult-child ratios.  Well, I thought, what he misses in diversity, he'll gain in Christian education.

I asked the petite Caucasian director about the curriculum.  Don't get me wrong, we're talking about 2-year olds and I was not expecting a treatise on the End Times.  What she said, though, shocked me. 

"We don't teach religion here because we have families from all over and we don't want to offend them."  

Let me clarify that this is a program run by the church, not simply a nursery school that rents space.

When I went to the Synagogue, did I not think that there might be some Jewish traditions and beliefs presented?  Did I not realize when I went to the Y in that part of town, that the children would represent the neighborhood?  When I went to Penn, we had classes canceled for Jewish holidays but not on Good Friday. 

So I ask, did the people coming to this church school miss the big steeple with the cross on top?  Did they notice the big stain glass with the descending dove?  or the big sign that said the protestant denominational affiliation?  Should they be offended if the children do sheep and cross crafts and learn John 3:16?  So when ya go work for a Catholic institution, a hospital, let's say, didja miss the big statue of  a woman wearing flowing robes, or the bleeding man on a cross?  Have ya heard of the Catholic church? That they don't look kindly on birth control pills, abortion or divorce?

Alright.  Did you make that leap with me?  Were you holding my hand?  or did I let go somewhere in my writing?