Nitz, the discipline officer
My wife's job is a discipline officer like myself. (Our poor kids must be overwhelmed. First their mother, now their father is head of discipline) Anyway, somehow our jobs are carried over from work to anywhere we go. This is especially true with my wife. I remember when she was still in the Purchasing Office, there had been a couple of times when she answered our phone, "Purchasing office, good morning. How may I help you?? AY MALI!"
Anyway, this phenomenon is sometimes unhealthy. Take for instance what happened during Kim's (our third child) birthday on July 15, 2003. We were having our dinner celebrating when the quiet evening was disrupted by shouts from outside the house like there was trouble. I was having a hard time finding my slippers so Nitz beat me in going out.
When I finally found a slipper I could wear, I rushed immediately outside because I'm sure there was a fight going on. It turned out to be coming from the neighbor who does laundry work for us. To my shock, I saw my wife in between the laundry woman's live-in boyfriend and her brother (both drunk) who were engaged in a fisticuff. So, imagine this. All the other neighbors watching, the security guard nowhere to be found.... and guess what......
My wife was with them, trying to stop the fight!
So. I shouted, "Damnit, Mama, stay away." She wouldn't listen and anywhere the trio went, she was there pacifying and stopping them. Just one stray punch would have knocked her senses off, right?
I went near them and told the protagonists to stop it and grabbed Nitz. "GO HOME!" She said, "but I pity Heidi (the laundry woman).
When we went home, I scolded her no end. "If there's someone being beaten up, then help him. But when it's about two people who want to slug it out. Enjoy the show! Then I told her in all of the rumbles that I've seen in my lifetime, it was always the pacifier who turned out dead. And that's true. I've seen it a couple of times.
Finally, I said, "when you're in school, you are the discipline officer but here, you are a plain housewife, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
I wonder if I shall turn out to be like this, too?
There is something nice that came out of it, though. I narrated the story to several of our friends and my friend, Tom Spencer, ever the poet, came up with this poem for her.
The Priestess of Peace
A ruckus broke the solitude of dinner hour
The lady of the house, ran to find the cause
A neighbor's drunken friendship finally soured
The lady rushed to intercede without a pause
Stumbling through the house on a slipper search
I heard the sounds of pending fisticuffs
Picking up my trusted club of ancient birch
Knowing tales of forgone fights by toughs
The lady stood in all her mighty grandeur
Far below two would-be fumbling fighters
Her instincts of a mediator pure
stood defiant . . . three hundred pounds the lighter
Nitz Delos Santos has found her worldly place
A priestess of peace . . . for the human race
Written For Nitz Delos Santos 7153
By Tom Spencer