There were six Nazis in the parkinglot of ABC Family Restaurant in Ladner. It was easy to tell they were nazis: the boys were all fat and bald, with silly Amish-y beards, the girls were coarse and ugly, and there was a preponderance of green bomber jackets.
That, and the big Luftwaffe swastika t-shirt on the fattest of the boys. They didn't seem to be in "Nazi Mode" -- they were just standing around chatting it seems, but the sight of them made me almost physically ill.
The worst part of it, to me, was my mother's reaction. I was the first to notice and point out that there were Nazis in the parking lot. My mother was kind of, "shhh! shhh! Don't say things like that!" even though she knew it was true.
And then, when she and my sister and I were sitting in ABC, she started getting on my case about it, as though it were MY fault that I was so upset.
She laid the blame on the fact that I recently quit anti-depressants, AGAIN, which I think is a sort of cop-out. Her attitude was,
"Well, gee, Barbara, if you took your medication like you're supposed to, you wouldn't get all upset at the sight of Nazis. Why can't you be like your sister and I? We're ignoring them and pretending they don't exist. After all, there's nothing we can do about it, so why should we get all worried and worked up?"
She is right on one point -- there is nothing I can do about it, and even if there were, I probably wouldn't do it. But her aggressive, forced ignorance disgusted me more than the Nazis themselves. And the idea that I should take medication so as NOT TO BE UPSET by things is repulsive as well.
Personally, I think I had every reason to be upset and disgusted. Her opinion, that it was the LACK OF DRUG or the PARANOIA or the ILLNESS speaking, I cannot hold with.
My mom, like most hypochondriacs, sees everything but the real sickness.