We have two sock baskets. One for white socks, one for black socks. All the white socks belong to my husband Alex. Most of the black socks are my son’s. This system has worked perfectly for years. Until yesterday. Alex appeared in the living room with his sock basket. It was nearly full.
“Half these socks aren’t even mine,” he said and dropped the basket. His are plain white Haynes calf high.He started sorting the socks. There were “his socks”, socks with holes that got thrown out and the “others.”
The “other socks” were the white socks with pink or blue around the top. White socks that were ankle high and made by New Balance or Polo, tube socks and girl socks. “They don’t belong in here with mine, they’re different. This basket is just for my socks.”
“You’re being super prejudiced .” I teased him.
“Yes I am, I only like my kind of socks. Sorry.” But he wasn’t really.
When he finished there were three piles. His, those to throw away and “the others.”
He took his basket and left the room. And I was left wondering what to do with the poor “others”. Most of them were still perfectly good socks. First, I matched up the ones I could, there would be a home for them. But what about the rest?
They’d been kicked out of their home and now had no where to go. No one would accept them simply because they were “different.” I felt guilty throwing them away, but boy, there were a lot of them. They were refugee socks, without a basket.
This behavior doesn’t surprise me from Alex. He’s Hungarian and Hungary typically doesn’t want refugees. They build concentration camps, surrounded with barbed wire and dogs. Refugees can stay there or leave the country and go somewhere more welcoming. Hungarians are all about taking care of Hungarians. Screw the rest of the world. They forget in the late 1950’s they were the refugees, running from Russia and seeking asylam in America. Alex is a very good man but that sentiment runs deep in his blood.
So, what do I do with the remaining 27 refugee socks? I’ll probably end up throwing them away because there’s no basket or drawer that wants them. They are the lost “other socks.”
As President Trump said last week. “Who knew this stuff was so complicated.”
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One thought on “The Refugee Crisis and My Husband’s Sock Basket”
Oh my god this is my favorite, someone tag POTUS! Perhaps this is how we should explain all our problems. The broken refrigerator can be climate change! Can you do that next?
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