I don’t do this — two posts on the same day.  But, you know, global warming and all….

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You’ve seen the posts, you’ve followed the links, to a story about where some No Goodnik gets a good scolding.  I followed one such link today on Facebook, thinking I was in for a surefire, feel-good moment (what the heck; my tea needed more steeping).

Instead, my gasted was flabbered. Or however that works.[1]

The post I refer to is being cited on FB and other social media sites as an example of a heroic or “gotcha” response to a cowardly anonymous note.  It is by Suzanne Perryman, identified as a blogger at SpecialNeedsMom.com. Read it before reading further:  To The Author of the Anonymous Note Left on My Car Window  .

To The Author
of the Over the Top Response
to an Anonymous Note Left on Her Car Window:

I sense years of slights and misunderstandings, bitterness and resentment, erupting in your retort to the anonymous Note Writer.  And, although you and I have never met, I know all about you – I know why you do and say the things you do.  Because I am a mother. Because I am…

Oh, no, wait.  I’m not going to second guess your motivations.  That in turn would be condescending, judgmental, patronizing – that would be just what you gave back tenfold to the Anonymous Note Writer.

Anonymous  Note Writer was mistaken.  Although you, in fact, are not disabled (ANW was correct in that observation [2]), your two special needs children were with you, and perhaps ANW did not see them, nor notice your handicapped placard.

It happens.  ANW was in the wrong. Shame on them, right back at them. Crumple the note and recycle it.

Instead, you compose a seven paragraph screed “inspired” by an eight word note.

Really.  Re-read what you wrote, to a person you’ve never met:
“I think I recognize you… I do. Before becoming a Mom, I used to live in your world of black and white, with everything in order, in its place. I had a plan, a schedule, a list of finished projects to check off, checklist and all. How wonderful for you that your life is so structured, so dependable and predictable that you cling to that line dividing right and wrong, black and white, and that you feel compelled to comment when you think someone is coloring outside the lines….

“I recognize where you are from. I used to live there, too. I used to have checked-off lists, awards touting my accomplishments, perfect hair, great skin, sparkly eyes, a quick wit, a clean car, a social life, a large social network, an organized calendar, vacation plans set in stone and no overdue library books. But then I became a mom. And unexpectedly, a mom of a special needs child.”

Sorry about your hair and skin (hint: diminished perkiness of bodily accessories happens to us all. It’s a byproduct of aging, and Life with a capital L).  But, the patronizing:  “Before becoming a Mom….  And then I became a mom.”  A stand alone sentence; a justification for it all?


And the heavens opened and there was a cry from Valhalla, “This woman has given birth!”
And Odin bestowed upon her the gift of self-righteous vengeance and inerrant motivational discernment….”

Two special needs children.  No doubt about it, you have a tough row to hoe.  Yet and still, your being a mother, of any kind of child with any kind of need, does not give you clairvoyant powers, nor a special window into the life circumstances and motivations of other people.

“I think I recognize you… I do (emphasis mine).  I recognize where you are from.”

No, you don’t. You recognize little but your own sense of indignation.

You  know  Not. One. Thing. about the person who left you that note, except that s/he thought you were taking a handicapped space to which you were not entitled.

That’s it.

You do not know that Note Writer’s life is “…so structured, so dependable and predictable that you cling to that line dividing right and wrong, black and white….”.

You do not know Note Writer’s health or parenting status, or life circumstances.  You do not know that Note Writer might be handicapped, or have a handicapped child or parent, and thus had a personal, visceral reaction to seeing what they mistakenly thought was a scofflaw in action.  You do not know that NW may have had a flashback, to the time when they had to assist their shaky, walker-pushing, oxygen-tank using elderly father in navigating across a pothole-ridden parking lot because the one handicapped parking spot by the pharmacy was occupied by a non-disabled person who “just wanted to leave the kids in the car and dash in and pick up a refill.”[3] [4]

Anonymous Note Writer was mistaken. You had the chance to play your Righteous Indignation card.  Bully for you – in every sense of the word.

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Full disclosure: I have left an anonymous note on a car windshield.  I wrote it to a Porsche-driving dickhead who parked his pathetic penis substitute in a way that took up four (!) parking spaces in a crowded lot.  The note consisted of a brief yet colorful critique of his consideration-challenged parking strategy.

Correction – it wasn’t exactly an anonymous note.  I signed it: “From all of Humanity.”


Ah, but it’s still Friday.  Let the hijinks continue to ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

[1] Flabbergast: to overwhelm with shock, surprise, or wonder. (Webster’s)

[2] But could have been mistaken, as many disabilities do not “present themselves” with obvious or outward physical manifestations.

[3] I witnessed such a scenario at Hillsboro’s (now defunct) Hi School Pharmacy parking lot.

[4] Or to the time when they witnessed an able-bodied person use their disabled mother’s placard to get a better parking space, even when that person was not running errands with wheelchair-bound mom in the car.  I have seen people do this, and have heard people admit – sometimes gleefully, and sometimes guiltily – to doing this.