Ask Mr. Smartypants

Monday morning, I pulled out of my driveway and drove past The Other.

The Other, in all its forms, can be alarming. This time, it was two black, teen males ambling down my street.

At 10 a.m., when they should have been in school, they stuck out.

In my neighborhood, which has few (if any) black residents, they were unusual.

On my street, a dead-end cul-de-sac, they were out of place.

And with their jeans, sagging nearly to their knees, their sweatshirt hoods worn up in defiance of the sunny, 70-degree weather and their swaggers, they were daunting.

They were thoroughly The Other, so much so that they set off my internal alarm, which set off my racism alarm.

When does awareness of The Other become prejudice?

When is profiling, by race or age or attire, reasonable?

Should I ask them what they're doing? Call the cops and report a suspicious presence? Go back to the house and check on my dog in the backyard, my home, my stuff?

There's a fine line between open-minded and stupid, but also between cautious and hateful.

If I see a man in a football uniform, I assume he plays football. If I see a woman dressed like a tramp, I assume she's easy.

These teens were adorned in a uniform that, to a middle-aged white guy, screams "criminal." Even knowing how mainstream such clothing has become, my gut reaction was to view them as thugs.

I didn't call the cops, didn't stop and pepper the kids with questions, didn't go back to stand guard over my dog and possessions. I went to the gym, and when I came home, found everything in order.

I felt like a fool and a hatemonger for having worried.

But was it racism?

Had my home been burglarized, I would have felt like a fool for not having acted.

I think I would be nearly as concerned to see two white teens on my cul-de-sac, skipping school, wearing skinhead haircuts and clothing, as I was to see those black kids in their gangster finery. Only nearly, though, because white kids dressed like hooligans are less The Other to me than black kids dressed like hooligans.

White kids walking through an entirely black neighborhood, dressed like skinheads, would be far more alarming to residents than black teens in droopy jeans would be. They would be entirely The Other.

I would have noticed any teens walking that stretch at 10 a.m. on a school day, but being white and living in a white neighborhood, the color of these kids' skin attracted a bit more attention. We are, all of us, programmed to identify and respond to The Other.

Most of my anxiety did not come from their age or race, it came from their decision to wear what I, rightly or wrongly, perceive as the uniform of a criminal, and the fact that they were likely skipping school, and thus not the most upstanding of citizens.

I think that wariness is at least somewhat justified.

But the anxiety that did not come from the clothes and the truancy came from my fear of The Other. I think we all have it. I wish I did not. Perhaps someday I won't.

When Angela and I reported for our first parent-teacher conference of the year, we were longing for the same kind of input all parents crave in such situations, something along the lines of: "Quinn is a tree of life for all who take shelter under the outstretched limbs of her wisdom and intelligence. I would say her best subjects are ... really anything involving knowledge, creativity or intuition. Her essay, titled 'Why I Love Rosie My Boston Terrier,' is likely to win the Nobel Prize in Literature.

"As far as her social and behavioral skills and sense of morality, it is the opinion of the faculty of this school that she should be named Pope-in-Waiting, an admittedly unusual honor for a student who is 7, female and Jewish. We need a signed permission slip from you in the case that any actual anointing proves necessary."

Now, common sense tells me that if our child was that perfect, my wife and I wouldn't spend quite as much time saying "I know which side of the family THAT comes from" as we do, nor would our favorite nickname for Quinn be "Your daughter," as in, "You need to speak to your daughter before I turn her upside down and shake the sass out of her."

The "she's your daughter, you beat her" dynamic came to a head after I taught Quinn that, when asked by any authority figure to tell the truth, she should respond by bellowing "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH." (Author's note: Funniest ... thing ... ever.)

But when a teacher sits me down and tells me the truth about my daughter - that she's a bright, healthy, normal kid with strengths and weaknesses - I find myself resisting or willfully misunderstanding.

Me: "By 'weakness,' do you actually mean 'differently strengthed'?"

Teacher: "No."

My craving to hear Quinn's teachers proclaim she is so wonderful she makes other kids look like mud puddles with hair stems from two sources, one largely noble and the other fairly selfish.

Having a kid is scary, and I want the teacher to assure me that it will all be OK, that Quinn's talents will safeguard her from pain, poverty and, during her teen years, petulance. I want to know she'll grow up happy, healthy, wealthy and not pierced to the point of attracting refrigerator magnets every time she walks through the kitchen.

But I also want the teacher, in praising my daughter, to reassure me that I am OK. Quinn is, after all, the primary export of Filleria (Fillerville? Fillania?), and at least part of my desire to hear the teacher call her "Lifesweetener, Bringer of Joy" is my desire to feel like a perfect dad.

So as my wife and I walk into the conference, one of us will usually say, "I just hope Quinn's teacher is able to appreciate her unique supertacularness." As we walk out of the conference, one of us will usually say, "Well, that could have been worse. At least she thought the 'You can't handle the truth' thing was funny. I guess we better focus more on her social studies homework, though."

I know I'm not the perfect dad, and I know (deep, deep down) that Quinn isn't the perfect child.

But I'm going to give the school written permission to anoint her, just in case it comes up.

Stunning pundits, politicians and voters alike, the McCain and Obama camps agreed late Saturday night to simply trade vice-presidential candidates.

Such a move hasn't been seen since 1992, when Ross Perot tried to exchange vice-presidential sidekick Adm. James Stockdale for a Wendy's triple cheeseburger extra value meal, a deal that fell apart when Perot demanded 'biggie sizing.' Rumors that former President Bush traded Vice President Dan Quayle for a 206-pound block of sharp Vermont cheddar that year have never been proven.

At a joint news conference, McCain said, 'Joe (Biden) fits in with the campaign we're running in ways that Sarah (Palin) never can.

"We are the party of old white guys. We are a big tent that welcomes everyone, but the people in the tent are mostly old white guys and folks who really, really like old white guys: old white gals, rich people, Halliburton employees and young white guys hoping to someday enjoy the privileges of being old white guys.

"My campaign says you need experience to lead. Joe Biden has been in the Senate 14 years longer than me, and I'm pretty sure I voted to authorize the Spanish-American War. Anyone can say they support alternative energy, but Biden authored a bill to fund the development of steamboats."

Speaking after McCain, Obama said of Palin: "We have too much in common to fight against each other.

"I'm a groundbreaking nominee, and so is Sarah Palin. I'm cute enough to inspire a following composed of people who know little about my past and beliefs, and so is Sarah Palin. I've spent the last 20 years worshipping at a Christian church that scares the heck out of many Americans, and so has Sarah Palin. I was raised largely outside the continental United States, in places few Americans understand, and so was Sarah Palin.

"But more importantly, I am conducting a campaign of change, and that means I need a running mate whose lack of credentials on foreign policy and frighteningly limited political experience match my own. Sarah Palin is that person.

"We bring fresh ideas. Biden and McCain, with their combined 56 years in the Senate, don't. Facts, wisdom, knowledge, experience, you bet. Fresh ideas? Please.

"Sarah Palin is a strong, successful, working woman,' Obama continued. 'She wears $300 eyeglass frames. She can handle a moose without a man's help. Most importantly, she's a mother of five who doesn't mind leaving her kids at home while she travels the campaign trail for months at a time. If she's not a liberal Democrat, I don't know what is."

Commentator James Carville, previously one of Biden's biggest cheerleaders, immediately heralded Obama's move, calling Biden a "treasonous, impotent, plagiarizing, poison-filled sack of sin."

Karl Rove, who Saturday described Palin as being "like Abraham Lincoln, only hotter," today said, "Maybe she needs to stop worrying about running for VP and start baking some Toll House cookies. Maybe if she cared about her family as much as she cared about her political career, then her unwed daughter wouldn't be pregnant. Hippie."