Standing in the salad section of the deli at

Whole Foods in Phoenix during the lunch

hour one May day, he heard a woman on

her cell phone saying, “Well, I really don’t

think it is my fault.” And he mumbled

audibly within ear shot, “Don’t we all think

it’s really not our fault?” As she was totally

absorbed in her conversation, he didn’t think

she heard him and even if she had, at most,

her response probably would have been to

glance at him and furrow her brow dismiss-

ively. Then as she grabbed some fresh

arugula and headed to another aisle, he

continued to no one in particular but every-

one in general with no one paying any atten-

tion whatsoever, “Wouldn’t it be refreshing to

hear someone take some responsibility and

say simply, ‘I really think it is my fault,’?”

But that, he then thought, would be like

standing in the salad section of the deli

at a Whole Foods in Phoenix, Arizona on

a ten degree below zero Fahrenheit day not

just in the otherwise merry month of May

but any month, for that matter, wondering

why there wasn’t any fresh arugula to be

had while the salad manager of the deli

section stood before all saying, instead of

simply passing the buck to God as would

have been completely understandable and

expected, “I take complete responsibility.

I should have anticipated this given the reality

of global warming and constructed a hot-

house in which to grow the highly desired

arugula. I believe it is my fault.” After which

the crowd, which had braved the un-

believable cold for their cherished arugula,

stormed the Bastille and hung the salad

manager on a meat hook in the meat section

of the deli and then pushed the hook out-

side in the subzero desert. And just maybe,

in part, that is why no one really thinks it is

his or her fault.