I work in a library. It is a few days before we expect the state to announce a lockdown. We are allowing all patrons to come in and borrow books and movies without penalty fees to last them the duration of the lockdown.

Every nervous parent suddenly coming to terms with having to handle their spawn at home all day, every day, raids our children’s DVD section, and all the popular animated and Disney films are gone completely. I remember a mother checking out specifically because she is renting one of my personal favorite movies, “The Tale Of The Princess Kaguya,” a Japanese animated film.

I see her come storming in the next day, right up to me.

Patron: “You guys f***** up! You f***** up real bad!”

Me: “What is the problem, ma’am?

Patron: “You had this smut in the kid’s section! I started it for my son, and within minutes, some tramp is getting her boobs out! This is disgusting and I want to know what you’re going to do about it!”

For context, the movie is about an old couple finding a magical baby in the woods. The magic extends to the old woman regaining the ability to breast-feed, which she does so early on in the movie. It’s a totally innocent, natural scene, drawn in stylistic charcoal and not sexual at all.

Me: “Ma’am, the movie is rated G for all audiences. I have personally seen the movie and it’s a perfectly innocent and normal scene. I admit that the movie does cover some heavier themes compared to American animated films, but it’s still suitable for most children.”

Patron: “How dare you assume what is good for my child?! We are a God-fearing family and I demand this filth be taken off of your shelves!”

Me: “I will take a note of your complaint and bring it to the attention of our manager. We are expected to go into lockdown tomorrow, so please feel free to take another movie, instead.”

Patron: “I maxed out my book loans yesterday. Give me some more and I won’t make a scene.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I am not authorized to do that. I will call my manager and see what I can do.”

Patron: “You do that. I am going to find my new books and an age-appropriate movie for my child.”

She says that last sentence almost spitting with contempt. I call my manager and explain the situation, and after laughing, the manager says I am allowed to rent her three more books. The patron returns with some books and a movie and I relay what my manager said.

Patron: “Fine. I’ll take this movie and these books.”

The movie is a PG action film that, while generally family-friendly, does contain way more violence than the Japanese animation. The books, however, are all trashy romance novels, and the three she’s selected are “Bedded For Pleasure,” “The Playboy’s Passionate Pursuit,” and “A Naked Desire.” I scan them out.

Me: “I hope you enjoy a smut-free lockdown, ma’am!”

My husband and I are both Australian. I am white; he is brown and was born in Sri Lanka. My husband’s country of birth is unremarkable to most people we meet, but occasionally, we come across people who seem to find it interesting and want to express how “cool” they are about a biracial couple or about brown people by finding some sort of common ground. Usually, it’s just something as innocent as “Oh, my wife works with a Sri Lankan” or something equally banal, but this one is new.

We have a tradesman doing some work at our home.

Tradesman: “Oh, so, what’s your husband’s nationality?”

Me: “He’s Australian but he was born in Sri Lanka and came here when he was a baby.”

Tradesman: “Oh. So, where’s Sri Lanka?”

Me: “It’s a little island just below India.”

Tradesman: “Oh, right.” *Pause* “Nicole Kidman was really good in that movie Lion, wasn’t she?”

My brother and I are kids, about eight and six, and we just finished watching “Mary Poppins” on TV. We liked it and we’re going around imitating her and her songs.

Dad: “Why are they singing?”

Mom: “Oh, they just finished watching something.”

Dad: “What?”

Mom: “It’s called Mary Poppings I think.”

Dad: “Poppings? What?”

I dance by, singing in a bad British accent.

Me: “Just a spoonful of sugaaa makes da medicine go dowonnnn!“

Dad: “Why are you singing weirdly like that?”

Me: “I dunno. It’s how she sings!”

Mom: “They have British accents.”

Dad: “Ohh.”

Me: “Mom, what’s ‘British’?”

She just shook her head, and much later I learned about it. It’s funny to picture little me going around singing in a bad British accent before I even knew what it was. And before Brits get upset, I did and still like it; otherwise, I wouldn’t have tried to copy them, so no hate here.

(My husband and I are scrolling Netflix trying to find a movie to watch. He finally finds what he’s looking for. I like thrillers and hate most adult comedies. I’m thinking, “‘Blade Runner’? Um, weird, it feels familiar… but negatively…”)

Me: “Well, I have some vague associations with this movie… Are there robots?”

Husband: “Yes.”

Me: “Is it silly?”

Husband: “No.”

Me: *makes a face*

Husband: “What?”

Me: “I just feel weird about the movie, like the words mean something to me but I don’t know what.”

Husband: “Look, the title Blade Runner has nothing to do with what actually happens in the movie.”

Me: *still hesitant, makes faces* “I’ll watch it. I just have an odd feeling that I don’t like it, but I don’t remember Harrison Ford at all.”

Husband: “ARE YOU THINKING OF BLADES OF GLORY?!”

Me: “Is it stupid?”

Husband: “It’s silly.”

Me: “Is there… ice skating?”

Husband: “In Blades of Glory, yes.”

Me: “I guess that’s what I was thinking of. Thanks to your logical brain, making sense of my cognitive dissonances.”

(I am about to take my first trip to Thailand to visit some friends who live there. Mom comes up to me one evening.)

Mom: “You know what you should do before you leave?”

Me: “What?”

(I’m thinking she’s going to get me to try yet another Thai dish because I’ve been less than enthusiastic about what I’ve tried so far in preparation for this trip.)

Mom: “You should watch The King and I.”

Me: “Uh, you do know that movie is banned in Thailand, right?”

Mom: “It is?”

Me: “Yep. Thai people love that king, and Rodgers and Hammerstein made him look like an idiot.”

Mom: “But it’s a classic love story.”

Me: “It’s still insulting. They love their king over there. They have shrines to him all over the place from what I can tell.”

Mom: “But why ban it? It’s not a documentary.”

(I quickly pull up Google on my phone.)

Me: “Yeah, it looks like all but one version is banned in Thailand. Complaints include Jodie Foster being more prominent on the poster, uh… the king is basically a cowboy on an elephant… Oh, in one version, it says they showed the king using common chopsticks when he should’ve been using a spoon.”

Mom: “That’s it?”

Me: “It’s a crime to insult the king. ‘Violators of the law face a seven-year prison sentence.’”

Mom: “So, I guess you can’t go around singing ‘Getting to Know You.’”

Me: “No.”

Mom: “Well, don’t insult the king while you’re there.”