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by Seattle Jon:
What do you remember? Leave a comment ...
Seattle Jon
I was an investment banker in Baltimore on 9-11. I was at my desk when the first and second planes hit the towers. I remember the guy who sat across from me (he was also LDS) turning around and saying, "Hey, there are planes hitting buildings in New York." When the third plane hit the Pentagon, he turned around again and said, "Dude ... I think this is the end of the world." His statement sent chills through me. Soon after, we went down to the trading floor where we watched both towers fall on fifty television screens. It was horrifying to think what our headquartered colleagues across the street from the towers were going through. Baltimore essentially shut down, and I was only able to get out of the city because I knew a few cabbies. I spent the next few days glued to the news, worrying about my wife and daughter in Utah.
Scott Heffernan
I was on a mission in Bristol, England on 9/11. We happened to be tracting door-to-door when the attacks began. We knocked on a woman’s door, introduced ourselves as missionaries, and she curtly told us she was not interested. As we were walking away she said, “Wait…Have you seen what’s going on?...I think you better come in.” We watched her TV in shock and confusion as the first tower burned, a plane crashed into the second tower, and then both towers collapsed. It was a heavy, heavy day and the mission changed a great deal after that.
Showing posts with label Max Power. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Max Power. Show all posts
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Abiding Belief & Reasonable Doubt
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by Seattle Jon (bio)
I recently spent four days in the local courthouse doing my first tour of jury duty. For two of the four days I served as presiding juror on a domestic assault case. A lot about the experience struck me as interesting, meaningful and memorable, but what I continue to reflect upon most was the jury's struggle with the following legal terms: abiding belief and reasonable doubt.
So I asked Max Power, emeritus MMM contributor and the smartest lawyer I know, to shed some light on these terms in both legal and religious contexts.
Max Power
The "beyond a reasonable doubt" standard is at the same time one of the most important principles of criminal law and one of the least clearly understood. There is no statute or clear case law defining the standard, and in fact courts disagree whether it is even appropriate to instruct a jury about its meaning, beyond merely stating the standard. In academia, the standard is typically described as requiring the prosecutor to prove each element of the alleged crime to the extent that there could be no doubt in the mind of a reasonable person that would affect that reasonable person's belief that the proved fact is true.
Clarity of the standard is not the biggest problem with the standard, though. For one, a typical juror is probably unable to access the mind of a "reasonable" person. The concept is not aimed merely at the "average" person, but rather at a legal fiction designed to approximate the collective judgment of society as a whole, incorporating all common normative and prudential judgments and acting perfectly consistent in accordance with those principles. Of course, no such person has ever existed, and no juror could ever effectively channel one. It would be even more difficult to do so than to adopt the "what would Jesus do?" credo. Jesus was perfectly principle-oriented and ultimately predictable; the reasonable person is the epitome of pragmatism, balancing virtue with expediency.
by Seattle Jon (bio)
![]() |
| Photo by Wally Gobetz |
I recently spent four days in the local courthouse doing my first tour of jury duty. For two of the four days I served as presiding juror on a domestic assault case. A lot about the experience struck me as interesting, meaningful and memorable, but what I continue to reflect upon most was the jury's struggle with the following legal terms: abiding belief and reasonable doubt.
So I asked Max Power, emeritus MMM contributor and the smartest lawyer I know, to shed some light on these terms in both legal and religious contexts.
Max Power
The "beyond a reasonable doubt" standard is at the same time one of the most important principles of criminal law and one of the least clearly understood. There is no statute or clear case law defining the standard, and in fact courts disagree whether it is even appropriate to instruct a jury about its meaning, beyond merely stating the standard. In academia, the standard is typically described as requiring the prosecutor to prove each element of the alleged crime to the extent that there could be no doubt in the mind of a reasonable person that would affect that reasonable person's belief that the proved fact is true.
Clarity of the standard is not the biggest problem with the standard, though. For one, a typical juror is probably unable to access the mind of a "reasonable" person. The concept is not aimed merely at the "average" person, but rather at a legal fiction designed to approximate the collective judgment of society as a whole, incorporating all common normative and prudential judgments and acting perfectly consistent in accordance with those principles. Of course, no such person has ever existed, and no juror could ever effectively channel one. It would be even more difficult to do so than to adopt the "what would Jesus do?" credo. Jesus was perfectly principle-oriented and ultimately predictable; the reasonable person is the epitome of pragmatism, balancing virtue with expediency.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
MMM Mail 1: Baby Blessings
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image via LDS Talk
Q: My husband is a convert and our baby's blessing is coming up in two weeks. He's very nervous to do it in front of the congregation, and even more nervous that the baby will start crying uncontrollably during the process. Could someone write a post about how you are actually supposed to hold a baby during the blessing and give tips for how to successfully keep a baby from crying?
A: Impending baby blessings have been known to keep modern mormon men up all night. We hope thoughts from Ken Craig, Max Power, Pete Codella and Saint Mark (all after the jump) help your husband rest soundly this week! Or, you can head here or here to see what Bishop Higgins has to say on baby blessings.
image via LDS Talk
Q: My husband is a convert and our baby's blessing is coming up in two weeks. He's very nervous to do it in front of the congregation, and even more nervous that the baby will start crying uncontrollably during the process. Could someone write a post about how you are actually supposed to hold a baby during the blessing and give tips for how to successfully keep a baby from crying?
A: Impending baby blessings have been known to keep modern mormon men up all night. We hope thoughts from Ken Craig, Max Power, Pete Codella and Saint Mark (all after the jump) help your husband rest soundly this week! Or, you can head here or here to see what Bishop Higgins has to say on baby blessings.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
MMM Stories: How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Golf)
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by Max Power (bio)
Modern Mormon Manly Stories is a collection of some of my favorite stories. I like telling stories, and since all of these stories include at least one man, typically a Mormon one, and occur in the present (making them modern, by definition), I thought I'd share them here. All of these stories are true. (And by "true," I mean they are mainly accurate, with adjustments solely for purposes of improving the flow of the stories. For example, if I am telling a story about being chased by a cat, but that is just not flowing well, I may slightly adjust the facts so I am being chased by a brown bear. So, basically all true.) Most of these stories have been told (by me) before. So, stop me if you've already heard this one.
I seriously like golf a lot.
Before I moved to New York City and simplified my life (meaning, I do nothing but work, eat and occasionally sleep), I would play altogether too much, and as a result, I frequently would be fatally unprepared for finals, neglect my family, and have to structure deals with my wife to keep our marriage intact. At the same time, it is something I am really not very good at (best score ever is an 81), but it keeps me challenged and relaxed.
One Christmas, we headed down from Provo, Utah to Gilbert, Arizona, to visit my folks/sister/brothers and do a little golfing in the warm weather. Arizona was cold (again) for much of the trip, just as it was the year before when we Christmas'd in Scottsdale. I carry some weird curse that causes Arizona weather to be unusually cold in the winter when I am there. But that is a different story for a different time ...
I asked my brother, Jake, to schedule tee times for us at a couple of courses over the holiday. We headed to one of the courses the Saturday after Christmas to make our tee time, with two foursomes. Jake somehow didn't get the tee times scheduled, or the clubhouse somehow didn't get the tee times written down, and we were standing outside the clubhouse, on maybe the busiest golf day of the year, with no tee times and a gaggle of bummed golfers. But, actually, that is another story as well ...
THIS story is about golf clubs.
by Max Power (bio)
Modern Mormon Manly Stories is a collection of some of my favorite stories. I like telling stories, and since all of these stories include at least one man, typically a Mormon one, and occur in the present (making them modern, by definition), I thought I'd share them here. All of these stories are true. (And by "true," I mean they are mainly accurate, with adjustments solely for purposes of improving the flow of the stories. For example, if I am telling a story about being chased by a cat, but that is just not flowing well, I may slightly adjust the facts so I am being chased by a brown bear. So, basically all true.) Most of these stories have been told (by me) before. So, stop me if you've already heard this one.
I seriously like golf a lot.
Before I moved to New York City and simplified my life (meaning, I do nothing but work, eat and occasionally sleep), I would play altogether too much, and as a result, I frequently would be fatally unprepared for finals, neglect my family, and have to structure deals with my wife to keep our marriage intact. At the same time, it is something I am really not very good at (best score ever is an 81), but it keeps me challenged and relaxed.
One Christmas, we headed down from Provo, Utah to Gilbert, Arizona, to visit my folks/sister/brothers and do a little golfing in the warm weather. Arizona was cold (again) for much of the trip, just as it was the year before when we Christmas'd in Scottsdale. I carry some weird curse that causes Arizona weather to be unusually cold in the winter when I am there. But that is a different story for a different time ...
I asked my brother, Jake, to schedule tee times for us at a couple of courses over the holiday. We headed to one of the courses the Saturday after Christmas to make our tee time, with two foursomes. Jake somehow didn't get the tee times scheduled, or the clubhouse somehow didn't get the tee times written down, and we were standing outside the clubhouse, on maybe the busiest golf day of the year, with no tee times and a gaggle of bummed golfers. But, actually, that is another story as well ...
THIS story is about golf clubs.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
9-11 Remembrances
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by Seattle Jon (bio)
What do you remember? Leave a comment ...
Seattle Jon
I was an investment banker in Baltimore on 9-11. I was at my desk when the first and second planes hit the towers. I remember the guy who sat across from me (he was also LDS) turning around and saying, "Hey, there are planes hitting buildings in New York." When the third plane hit the Pentagon, he turned around again and said, "Dude ... I think this is the end of the world." His statement sent chills through me. Soon after, we went down to the trading floor where we watched both towers fall on fifty television screens. It was horrifying to think what our headquartered colleagues across the street from the towers were going through. Baltimore essentially shut down, and I was only able to get out of the city because I knew a few cabbies. I spent the next few days glued to the news, worrying about my wife and daughter in Utah.
Scott Heffernan
I was on a mission in Bristol, England on 9/11. We happened to be tracting door-to-door when the attacks began. We knocked on a woman’s door, introduced ourselves as missionaries, and she curtly told us she was not interested. As we were walking away she said, “Wait…Have you seen what’s going on?...I think you better come in.” We watched her TV in shock and confusion as the first tower burned, a plane crashed into the second tower, and then both towers collapsed. It was a heavy, heavy day and the mission changed a great deal after that.
Kyle August
I was a freshman in high school and had just started attending early morning seminary. We were reading something as a class when "the late kid" came in, interrupted us, and said, "I was watching the craziest movie! Planes were hitting buildings. It was nuts." We didn't pay him any attention and returned to our reading. After seminary, I hitched my usual ride and entered my high school. Normally you could hear a loud buzz of socializing going on, but when I opened the door it was silent. I remember thinking that school must have been canceled, but then I heard a news voice. As I moved toward it, I saw hundreds of students gathered around every TV in the school. Everyone was watching and not saying a word to each other. I spotted a friend and asked him what was going on. He didn't say anything. He just pointed to the TV. TVs stayed on in every classroom all day. We really didn't get much done.
Pete Codella
9-11 happened the day after my wife and I brought our first child home from the hospital and on my wife’s birthday. We lived in Henderson, Nevada at the time and had just struggled through a sleepless night when my sister-in-law phoned to ask if we had seen the news, and no, we didn’t have the TV on at 6:50 in the morning! Amid the realization that our lives had forever changed now that we were parents, we were forced to deal with the fact that terrorists had figured out how to launch a pretty successful attack on U.S. soil. It was a new world. I lived and worked in Manhattan from 1996-97 and went through the Trade Center on my way to work at the World Financial Center every workday. Plus my wife’s sister (a different sister-in-law than the one who called) was studying at NYU at the time, so we were all concerned as to her whereabouts. She was impacted like all New Yorkers but not in danger of harm. It was surreal to realize that a place I had frequented almost daily for two years, and could have been in on that fateful day, was now destroyed. We celebrate 9-11 in our family because it's the day my sweetheart was born, long before terrorists destroyed the World Trade Towers.
Dustin
I had recently returned from my mission and was attending BYU-Idaho. I stumbled out of bed a bit late that morning to find my roommates glued to the TV. As I poured a bowl of cereal, they told me that one of the twin towers was in flames and that an airplane had apparently hit the building. I was shocked, but didn't grasp the gravity of the situation until the second tower was hit. "This can't be a coincidence, right?" I asked. I'll never forget how I felt when I found out the source of the attacks...dismayed, angry, vengeful, and, in spite of being in one of the most remote locations in the U.S., unsafe.
MAB
In 2001 I was living in the San Francisco Bay Area, and was asleep when the first plane hit the World Trade Center on 9-11. My alarm clock was set to a local news station and it was typical for me to wake up, listen to the radio for a minute and then hit the snooze bar a few times. That morning was no different. Each time the alarm went off there were anxious voices, and I eventually understood through a sleepy daze that one or two planes had hit the WTC in New York and it seemed serious. At that time we didn't have a television, so not knowing what else to do, I got ready for the day and headed in to work. Like everyone there, I was glued to my computer trying to understand what was happening. I wasn't getting much work done since the magnitude of what happened made my routine activities seem trivial. By noontime there was so much information and speculation flooding in via the internet that our CEO sent an email and told everyone they could go home to be with their families.
Max Power
I can't say anything overly interesting about where I was the morning of September 11, 2001. I awoke that morning to the phone ringing--a friend calling to tell me to turn on the news. At that point, only United 11 had hit the north tower, and everything still appeared to be some confusing, inexplicable accident. I distinctly recall the startling wave of realization that crashed over me as I watched, live, the second plane, United 175, make an unnaturally sharp turn and slam into the south tower. It was remarkably clear to me at that point that something was terribly wrong. My recollection of that surreal scene, as well as the disbelief I felt as the first tower fell, will probably never leave me. For me, 9/11 serves as one of a handful of moments of uncomfortable revelation in my life, where something I once treasured is irrecoverably gone. Like discovering that your parents are semi-annually defrauding you every Christmas and Easter. Or like the jerk who put razor blades in candy bars one halloween and ruined the event for everyone, forever, because the thrill of amassing an obscene hoard of candy is somehow spoiled by parents sorting through your stash and discarding anything that isn't hermetically packaged. I hate the fact that I really want to watch the 9/11 Tribute in Lights from the Brooklyn Bridge this year, but I am too afraid to be around major New York landmarks. And I miss the feeling of invulnerability we used to have, a uniquely American sort of naivete that war and civilian life can be neatly separated, with war cordoned off on a foreign battlefield thousands of miles away and insulated by oceans and the innocence of never before being attacked on our turf. That all went away when we watched planes flying into buildings.
Aimee
I was three weeks away from entering the MTC to leave on my mission to Sendai, Japan. I had wrapped things up at my job and was taking it easy until I left in early October. I was still asleep when my brother-in-law Tyler who was living with us at the time, came into my room to tell me I needed to come watch the news. I could not believe what I was witnessing on that tv screen. What had happened to the world while I was peacefully sleeping? Both towers had fallen and the news was recapping the events and filming the awful aftermath. With a heavy heart for the victims, their families, and our world, I sat in my pajamas on the living room floor watching the coverage the rest of the day.
by Seattle Jon (bio)
image via lookingattheleft.com
What do you remember? Leave a comment ...
Seattle Jon
I was an investment banker in Baltimore on 9-11. I was at my desk when the first and second planes hit the towers. I remember the guy who sat across from me (he was also LDS) turning around and saying, "Hey, there are planes hitting buildings in New York." When the third plane hit the Pentagon, he turned around again and said, "Dude ... I think this is the end of the world." His statement sent chills through me. Soon after, we went down to the trading floor where we watched both towers fall on fifty television screens. It was horrifying to think what our headquartered colleagues across the street from the towers were going through. Baltimore essentially shut down, and I was only able to get out of the city because I knew a few cabbies. I spent the next few days glued to the news, worrying about my wife and daughter in Utah.
Scott Heffernan
I was on a mission in Bristol, England on 9/11. We happened to be tracting door-to-door when the attacks began. We knocked on a woman’s door, introduced ourselves as missionaries, and she curtly told us she was not interested. As we were walking away she said, “Wait…Have you seen what’s going on?...I think you better come in.” We watched her TV in shock and confusion as the first tower burned, a plane crashed into the second tower, and then both towers collapsed. It was a heavy, heavy day and the mission changed a great deal after that.
Kyle August
I was a freshman in high school and had just started attending early morning seminary. We were reading something as a class when "the late kid" came in, interrupted us, and said, "I was watching the craziest movie! Planes were hitting buildings. It was nuts." We didn't pay him any attention and returned to our reading. After seminary, I hitched my usual ride and entered my high school. Normally you could hear a loud buzz of socializing going on, but when I opened the door it was silent. I remember thinking that school must have been canceled, but then I heard a news voice. As I moved toward it, I saw hundreds of students gathered around every TV in the school. Everyone was watching and not saying a word to each other. I spotted a friend and asked him what was going on. He didn't say anything. He just pointed to the TV. TVs stayed on in every classroom all day. We really didn't get much done.
Pete Codella
9-11 happened the day after my wife and I brought our first child home from the hospital and on my wife’s birthday. We lived in Henderson, Nevada at the time and had just struggled through a sleepless night when my sister-in-law phoned to ask if we had seen the news, and no, we didn’t have the TV on at 6:50 in the morning! Amid the realization that our lives had forever changed now that we were parents, we were forced to deal with the fact that terrorists had figured out how to launch a pretty successful attack on U.S. soil. It was a new world. I lived and worked in Manhattan from 1996-97 and went through the Trade Center on my way to work at the World Financial Center every workday. Plus my wife’s sister (a different sister-in-law than the one who called) was studying at NYU at the time, so we were all concerned as to her whereabouts. She was impacted like all New Yorkers but not in danger of harm. It was surreal to realize that a place I had frequented almost daily for two years, and could have been in on that fateful day, was now destroyed. We celebrate 9-11 in our family because it's the day my sweetheart was born, long before terrorists destroyed the World Trade Towers.
Dustin
I had recently returned from my mission and was attending BYU-Idaho. I stumbled out of bed a bit late that morning to find my roommates glued to the TV. As I poured a bowl of cereal, they told me that one of the twin towers was in flames and that an airplane had apparently hit the building. I was shocked, but didn't grasp the gravity of the situation until the second tower was hit. "This can't be a coincidence, right?" I asked. I'll never forget how I felt when I found out the source of the attacks...dismayed, angry, vengeful, and, in spite of being in one of the most remote locations in the U.S., unsafe.
MAB
In 2001 I was living in the San Francisco Bay Area, and was asleep when the first plane hit the World Trade Center on 9-11. My alarm clock was set to a local news station and it was typical for me to wake up, listen to the radio for a minute and then hit the snooze bar a few times. That morning was no different. Each time the alarm went off there were anxious voices, and I eventually understood through a sleepy daze that one or two planes had hit the WTC in New York and it seemed serious. At that time we didn't have a television, so not knowing what else to do, I got ready for the day and headed in to work. Like everyone there, I was glued to my computer trying to understand what was happening. I wasn't getting much work done since the magnitude of what happened made my routine activities seem trivial. By noontime there was so much information and speculation flooding in via the internet that our CEO sent an email and told everyone they could go home to be with their families.
Max Power
I can't say anything overly interesting about where I was the morning of September 11, 2001. I awoke that morning to the phone ringing--a friend calling to tell me to turn on the news. At that point, only United 11 had hit the north tower, and everything still appeared to be some confusing, inexplicable accident. I distinctly recall the startling wave of realization that crashed over me as I watched, live, the second plane, United 175, make an unnaturally sharp turn and slam into the south tower. It was remarkably clear to me at that point that something was terribly wrong. My recollection of that surreal scene, as well as the disbelief I felt as the first tower fell, will probably never leave me. For me, 9/11 serves as one of a handful of moments of uncomfortable revelation in my life, where something I once treasured is irrecoverably gone. Like discovering that your parents are semi-annually defrauding you every Christmas and Easter. Or like the jerk who put razor blades in candy bars one halloween and ruined the event for everyone, forever, because the thrill of amassing an obscene hoard of candy is somehow spoiled by parents sorting through your stash and discarding anything that isn't hermetically packaged. I hate the fact that I really want to watch the 9/11 Tribute in Lights from the Brooklyn Bridge this year, but I am too afraid to be around major New York landmarks. And I miss the feeling of invulnerability we used to have, a uniquely American sort of naivete that war and civilian life can be neatly separated, with war cordoned off on a foreign battlefield thousands of miles away and insulated by oceans and the innocence of never before being attacked on our turf. That all went away when we watched planes flying into buildings.
Aimee
I was three weeks away from entering the MTC to leave on my mission to Sendai, Japan. I had wrapped things up at my job and was taking it easy until I left in early October. I was still asleep when my brother-in-law Tyler who was living with us at the time, came into my room to tell me I needed to come watch the news. I could not believe what I was witnessing on that tv screen. What had happened to the world while I was peacefully sleeping? Both towers had fallen and the news was recapping the events and filming the awful aftermath. With a heavy heart for the victims, their families, and our world, I sat in my pajamas on the living room floor watching the coverage the rest of the day.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
MMM Stories: The (St. Charles Place) Bailout
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by Max Power (bio)
Modern Mormon Manly Stories is a collection of some of my favorite stories. I like telling stories, and since all of these stories include at least one man, typically a Mormon one, and occur in the present (making them modern, by definition), I thought I'd share them here. All of these stories are true. (And by "true," I mean they are mainly accurate, with adjustments solely for purposes of improving the flow of the stories. For example, if I am telling a story about being chased by a cat, but that is just not flowing well, I may slightly adjust the facts so I am being chased by a brown bear. So, basically all true.) Most of these stories have been told (by me) before. So, stop me if you've already heard this one.
As a Wall Street lawyer, I am often asked by friends, family members and barbers to explain the bailout. Much like Jesus, I find the best way to teach complex subjects is by allegory. Here's my bailout allegory. (Feel free to identify all the ingenius symbols in the comments.)
by Max Power (bio)
Modern Mormon Manly Stories is a collection of some of my favorite stories. I like telling stories, and since all of these stories include at least one man, typically a Mormon one, and occur in the present (making them modern, by definition), I thought I'd share them here. All of these stories are true. (And by "true," I mean they are mainly accurate, with adjustments solely for purposes of improving the flow of the stories. For example, if I am telling a story about being chased by a cat, but that is just not flowing well, I may slightly adjust the facts so I am being chased by a brown bear. So, basically all true.) Most of these stories have been told (by me) before. So, stop me if you've already heard this one.
As a Wall Street lawyer, I am often asked by friends, family members and barbers to explain the bailout. Much like Jesus, I find the best way to teach complex subjects is by allegory. Here's my bailout allegory. (Feel free to identify all the ingenius symbols in the comments.)
A couple of years ago, my brother, David, was in town for the weekend, and Sunday night found my wife May Jones, David, my daughter AIG (fake name) and me in a heated game of Monopoly.
I seriously hate Monopoly (can you tell I lost?) The entire game revolves around lucky dice rolling the first few times around the board. That night, I honestly only ONCE landed on a piece of property that was available for sale. It was Marvin Gardens, one of my personal favorites. While we are on the topic, has anyone else realized how lame the pink and red property series are? They have far lower rent than their orange and yellow respective counterparts, and yet you pay the same price for houses and hotels! And another thing, why on earth does mortgaging your property mean you can no longer collect rent on it or have houses? If the real world had similar rules, the entire real estate industry would grind to a halt. Anyway, back to the game...
So, I was having a horrible game. I parlayed Marvin Gardens into Park Place, which I then traded to AIG for New York Ave. I then traded NY for the three light blues (worthless) and then bought back all three oranges. Broke and with all my property mortgaged (thereby yielding no rent for some absurd reason), I crippled along.
I seriously hate Monopoly (can you tell I lost?) The entire game revolves around lucky dice rolling the first few times around the board. That night, I honestly only ONCE landed on a piece of property that was available for sale. It was Marvin Gardens, one of my personal favorites. While we are on the topic, has anyone else realized how lame the pink and red property series are? They have far lower rent than their orange and yellow respective counterparts, and yet you pay the same price for houses and hotels! And another thing, why on earth does mortgaging your property mean you can no longer collect rent on it or have houses? If the real world had similar rules, the entire real estate industry would grind to a halt. Anyway, back to the game...So, I was having a horrible game. I parlayed Marvin Gardens into Park Place, which I then traded to AIG for New York Ave. I then traded NY for the three light blues (worthless) and then bought back all three oranges. Broke and with all my property mortgaged (thereby yielding no rent for some absurd reason), I crippled along.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Six in the City: Subway Door-Hogs (or, Why Important People are Allowed to Break the Rules)
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by Max Power (bio) & May Jones (bio)
Max Power and May Jones live in Manhattan with one (paying) job, four children and zero dogs. They are mormons. These are their stories.
by Max Power (bio) & May Jones (bio)
Max Power and May Jones live in Manhattan with one (paying) job, four children and zero dogs. They are mormons. These are their stories.
Max Power: So, once again this morning, my fiery indignation was kindled toward those people who seem to believe rules of social order are only applicable to them to the extent they are also convenient to them. Yes, as you probably have guessed, I am talking about subway-door-squatters.
May Jones: Ah yes, the “important” people who hover around the subway doors like they’ve been sworn to protect them. As if they won’t be able to nimbly hop off the subway in time carrying only their tiny man purses. Sure, block the way for those of us who have to muscle through the crowds with a four year old on each arm. We have a MUCH better chance of making it out in time! You don’t have to share the public transportation with 10 million other people. It’s all yours!
Max: (Sounds like I struck a nerve, May.) The best is when you get two such VIPs each occupying one half of the entry, leaving only a sliver of space between them. And then they just glance at you disinterestedly as you try to board/exit. “Oh, no, don’t move into the middle or anything. All 20 of us who have been waiting for ten minutes for this train will just grab the next one.” I mean, believe me (I frequent these trains every day) I know how desirable the door spot is. Unlike some people, though, I listen to the train driver repeating the same plea AT. EVERY. SINGLE. STOP: “Please step all the way into the train.” (Hint: she’s talking to you, door-hog.)
May: Why can’t people just be rule followers, like me? In the suburbs, it was the agony of the elementary school drop-off line cutters. You know the ones I’m talking about. And I’m sorry to say it, but most of the offenders were/are men. Why are their days more important than mine? Alright, so I’m not headed to Wall Street to change the world. But I am transporting a Cub Scout (future rule follower, like his mother) to his meetings and that should be worthy of some respect, amirite? These subway VIPs are also apparently concealing their secret lives in the theater, because you should see them roll their eyes and hear them make loud huffy noises when they have the incredible misfortune of getting stuck on the stairs behind a small child. Here’s an idea: go around! I’m sorry, but my daughters’ legs are twenty times shorter than yours, they can’t sprint down the stairs like there are free Krispy Kremes at the bottom. I admit, sometimes I’m really sold on the mob mentality and I grab both the girls so they’re clinging to me in an awkward hanging fashion and try to dash down myself, but not once have there been donuts. SO not worth it.
May: Why can’t people just be rule followers, like me? In the suburbs, it was the agony of the elementary school drop-off line cutters. You know the ones I’m talking about. And I’m sorry to say it, but most of the offenders were/are men. Why are their days more important than mine? Alright, so I’m not headed to Wall Street to change the world. But I am transporting a Cub Scout (future rule follower, like his mother) to his meetings and that should be worthy of some respect, amirite? These subway VIPs are also apparently concealing their secret lives in the theater, because you should see them roll their eyes and hear them make loud huffy noises when they have the incredible misfortune of getting stuck on the stairs behind a small child. Here’s an idea: go around! I’m sorry, but my daughters’ legs are twenty times shorter than yours, they can’t sprint down the stairs like there are free Krispy Kremes at the bottom. I admit, sometimes I’m really sold on the mob mentality and I grab both the girls so they’re clinging to me in an awkward hanging fashion and try to dash down myself, but not once have there been donuts. SO not worth it.
Max: I have to admit it—I am one of those platform-stair-sprinters; only I run out of the subway station. Maybe it’s the clean(er), fresh(er) air wafting through the openings just beyond the turnstiles, but the mere sight of the platform exit triggers an inner-animal instinct to race out of the subway and break into a Joseph Gordon-Levitt from 500 Days of Summer dance routine. But I definitely don’t huff when I see a four-year-old in front of me on the stairs. Let’s face it—given the relative scarcity of kids in this city, there’s a decent chance that any four-year-old I get stuck behind is one of my own. In fact, from the frequent reactions of people riding on the benches opposite us on our way to church Sunday mornings, you’d think a family with four kids deserves its own reality show.
May: Mmm hmm. They point, they gasp, again with the dramatics! Now I know what celebrities feel like, and it isn’t easy, you guys. All the staring, all the looks, everyone appraising your every move. I feel so exposed. No one stares at the guy walking four dogs in the park. Maybe I’m just walking all these children for other people. Yes, they all uncannily resemble me. Maybe that’s why the moms hired me.
Max: And it’s not just individuals—the Metro Transit Authority similarly has no idea how to process the concept of a family with more than 2 children. [Inside the prepaid MetroCard project planning meeting]: “Hey, Boss, we need to set a maximum number of swipes at one turnstile for the prepaid cards to keep people from selling bulk discount swipes on the black market. Pick a number... Let’s just do 4. Who on earth would ever need more than that?” [Cut to dad standing outside said turnstile frantically swiping his card for the fifth time after sending the four kids through, which kids are splitting off and heading for various wrong trains]: “*&$%, *$^#, @#%!”
May: So ... um ... maybe on occasion I have been guilty of standing right by the subway doors myself... But it’s a tough town! Survival of the fittest! (I’m important, too...)
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