I bring you news as it happens, folks:
“If it were me, I’d just move my family to another part of the world where they could live in peace and grace. Who would want to risk getting blown up getting on a bus or going to a cafe? Think about all those Jews in 1932 or 1933 who moved away like Einstein. They were fine.”
The Middle tells the Window Salesman with the limp-wristed handshake a little about the 95% success rate of the Nazis in murdering his family back in the old country and explains, gently, that they were middle class, intelligent people too, just like this Window Salesman.
“Oh, you seem pretty invested in this. Why don’t you go live in Israel?”
The Middle informs Window Salesman that he lives in the US because this is The Middle’s home, just as it is the home of The Middle’s Wife and Child. Just as it is the home of the Window Salesman. The Window Salesman has the distant foggy look of incomprehension in his eyes, but proceeds to write out the invoice while pulling out colorful brochures where the window manufacturer extolls the virtue of their product by listing their successful scores against other window manufacturers…in tests run by this very manufacturer.
“If we were at war, I’d move my family.”
The Middle patiently explains that there are 6 million Jews in Israel. Would they all have to leave for peace? Should they move to Hawaii en masse?
“Where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“What about quotas on Jewish immigration to Canada and the US in the Thirties and Forties, did those folks have a choice?”
The Window Salesman tells The Middle some fairy tales about pricing of the windows, proceeds to give a 45% discount that ends in a price higher than the non-discounted Previous Window Salesman’s estimate (that was the guy who preferred to talk football instead of politics) and moves to leave, but not before another limp-wristed handshake, to his smog-spewing, run-down, car.
He’s not getting my business.