Benjamin knows things. Not social norms so much, or the intricacies of personal care. But he can spill out the dialogue of movies without pause. His siblings enjoyed showing him off to their friends when he was little, by reciting entire scenes.
This week he and a friend with their companions were rattling off the unedited script of Princess Bride, just for fun. Well, Ben was. The others chimed in with bits when they could.
Then when he and his support person were alone in the car the questions popped up.
"What is a Sicilian?"
"What are land wars in Asia?"
"What does 'death was on the line' mean?"
Being a literalist, I wonder if there were images in his head of dirt piles tossing grenades, or a tombstone on the yellow ribbon in the middle of the road.
It occurs to me that sometimes we repeat cliches that we have not thought through, nor truly understand. These can be the rote responses we have committed to memory.
You kept me waiting, so I deserve to be annoyed.
My package is late, and I need to blame someone.
You did something I told you not to do, which proves that you disrespect me.
You want what I have so I have to hold on tighter.
The other day a woman mentioned that she was in line at the doctor's office, and the man in front of her took a long time. He seemed to ramble on, asking one more thing after another of the receptionist. Probably he was a person who needed extra effort to understand. When it was finally her turn the woman apologized for the delay.
But my friend was not irritated. Maybe it was our collective circumstances over the past year, or maybe it was compassion for the man she had been listening to for the past eight minutes, but she did not harbor a sense of having been slighted.
Changing deeply embedded reactions is not inconceivable.
