Add, Subtract, Multiply...Divide

 

      The celebration of the 4th passed by once again, seemingly a bit more muted despite the many parks and city centers blasting away celebratory fireworks.  Our state now leads the nation in drought so things are rather dry here and the personal setting off of fireworks are banned in most parts of my city (that said, our state allows five days of fireworks around each summer holiday).  But a stray firecracker, apparently thrown from a car (according to police), started a small field on fire just four houses from us.  It's a rather eerie feeling to be getting ready for bed and looking out to see the sky bright orange yellow outside your window, with increasing waves of smoke drifting by.  Two doors down from us, a recently sold house had been gutted by the new owners, gutted as in it was now a skeleton of a house with decking and drywall gone and only framing visible through the front windows.  Can you see flames from that house, asked the 911 dispatcher.  No, I answered, but it seemed as if it  old be that house, even as I heard the heavy diesel roar of fire trucks making their way up the street.  At ten at night, there is no mistaking the sirens and lights of emergency vehicles, especially when that close.  Within five minutes, four fire trucks and a half dozen police cars had blocked off the streets and were actively telling gawkers to keep moving (sadly, cars were almost as quickly driving up and parking along our curb as people got out to "see" what was going on).  It was a small 2-acre field, half designed to be an overflow lot for skiers and hikers, and the other half meant to be a self-guided walk through what was once a wetland.  No more.  The flames shot past the 20-foot trees but the small wind was favorable and blowing more towards the street.  One night runner banged on doors telling people near the flames to evacuate, one student telling us that he opened his blinds and saw the flames just outside.  The unit below him held an 84-year old widow.  Luckily, the flames teased the trees and buildings but moved with the wind in the direction of the dry grass that lined the walkway, then shot up the sloping curb to the opposite and busier street (the plastic walkway survived).  As the firetrucks did their work, blocking the fire's path and fighting it from several directions, the dried grass simply vanished like kindling...there was nothing left to burn.  Spectacular, exciting, luck of the draw, thought-provoking.  If the wind had shifted or was stronger (our trees and house were just 100 yards or so away), the flames could have crossed the road and shot up to the expensive homes lining the hillside.  Thoughts of the fires in California came to mind, those "it'll never happen here" thoughts.  But then seeing the sky in front of you become bright shades of orange --not above you but in front of you-- brings a whole new light to what could happen, and how quickly.  But there was something else festering underneath, like an ember nowhere near extinguished...

    As I've mentioned before, I have several friends whom I consider to be very conservative, not that they would wave rifles at rallies or light police cars on fire, but more the Joe Rogan type, quick to throw in their two bits and then suddenly inflate like the incredible Hulk when you bring up any counterpoint.  I try to stay civil, especially since my wife encounters a few people who act in the same manner.  She calmly replies, "I tend to stay out of politics, and just try to be kind to one person each day."  Hers is a good response for just like the fire that night, such a nonreactionary reply leaves no fuel to ignite.  But now and then, an email or two will still arrive from my friends, one peppered with words such as "corrupt" or "anti-Trump" or "fake news," and I can feel my buttons being pushed.  And to be fair, I'm aware that the "side" I'm often aligning with sometimes is just as guilty of such subtle provocation.  Note these words from former Secretary of Labor, Robert Reich about being a "patriot:"  True patriotism isn’t simply about waving the American flag.  And it’s not mostly about securing our borders, putting up walls and keeping others out.  It’s about coming together for the common good...patriots don’t pander to divisiveness.  They don’t fuel racist or religious or ethnic divisions.  They aren’t homophobic or sexist or racist.  To the contrary, true patriots seek to confirm and strengthen and celebrate the “we” in “we the people of the United States."  Certainly nothing wrong in those words except that it somehow feels like a sentiment meant to alienate a differing viewpoint.   

     So contrast that view of patriotism with this from a local writer in Utah Stories: July is a deeply patriotic month.  But what does that mean today, in a time when many confuse loyalty to politicians with love for this country?  I've noticed that some Americans, disillusioned by political noise, begin to behave in ways that seem more anti-patriotic and destructive than reflective.  But patriotism, at its core, isn't about political parties.  It's about gratitude for the freedoms and opportunities that, even with all our national flaws, all define this country...So whatever your political beliefs, I invite you to take a step back from the noise.  Social media and mainstream outlets often spin narratives that distract or entertain rather than inform.  Take time this month to reflect on what you have.  Consider the opportunities and the quality of life we enjoy in this country -- even compared to many wealthy European nations...let's celebrate not only our history, but the possibilities and opportunities we are offered, especially to those willing to work, contribute, and build. 

     Then another contrast, this in The London Review titled, "How Not to Talk to Fascists": A person who has shared a single tweet is in a different place from someone who’s been to a far-right meeting, or is rebuilding their friendship network around people they’ve met on a far-right website...People need to be talked down from right-wing positions, but it’s often a thankless task...When the author asked Joan Braune,a lecturer in philosophy at Gonzaga University in Washington State, about what to do when such a stance involved friends and family, she replied: ...it’s you against Elon Musk, Fox News, it’s you against a powerful network.  You might lunch with your Trumpist cousin, you might win them, but in the meantime there are thousands of other people being drawn into fascist politics.  I think sometimes people feel responsibility for family members...The times we’re living in mean it’s necessary to have the argument, but it requires enormous patience, and an expectation of as many setbacks as successes.  Wait, I understand the argument but even I found the wording as divisive as my friends' using "leftist" and "dems."  What's with all the labeling coming from both sides, the old "you're either with us, or against us," a phrase which I used to associate only with gangs and cartels, but one which I now feel can be associated more and more with politicians.  This was a sticking point for author Bastian Berbner as well.   He encountered story after story of people not spurning on division, but rather folks searching for a middle ground, a common area where conversations could add and multiply instead of push further away.  In his book In Search of Common Ground, he wrote of today's political debate being: ...carried out --on both sides-- with decreasing respect and humanity, and with increasing malice and hatred.  The moderate, sensible, and thoughtful voices have fallen silent, and the shrill, hating, and radical ones are getting louder.  Any gradations are getting lost in "either/or" or "us-against-them" arguments.  A political war has broken out, and it's not just a rhetorical one...[but] Just imagine what would happen if every American talked with every other American, if every European talked with every other European, and if they all looked for common ground... Maybe we should leave the realm of the binary, of polar opposites, of the yes or no, of good or evil, of us vs. them, and accept the in-between.  Maybe we should try to ascribe only so many differences to "the other" as they merit.  But in order to know what these differences are, we need to get to know each other first. 

      So where would that common ground be?  In a NY Times review of Albion’s Seed: Four British Folkways in America by David Hackett Fischer, it wrote: Nothing dates faster than history.  But some history books --whatever later refinements occur, whichever claims are later disproved or overturned-- stay with us...The years 1629-1750 saw four great migrations from Britain to the colonies.  First came the Puritans to New England; then royalist landlords, indentured servants and poor farm laborers to the banks of the Chesapeake.  Soon after came the Quakers, who settled in the Delaware Valley, followed by immigrants from the contested borderlands between England and Scotland and the shores of the Irish Sea.  Each brought its own customs, its own taboos and laws, its own ways of raising children and even its own way of building houses...It’s incredible how deeply these folkways imprinted themselves on the land and informed American culture in ways that resonate to this day.  If Fischer’s book feels dated at all, it’s because it focuses on elites: The main characters, so to speak, are the charismatic leaders — representative men and women who imposed their religion, their ideologies, limitations and, perhaps, their pathologies on a new country.  It’s a complex and powerful argument for a plurality of freedoms.

     What I took away from that review was that once the indigenous peoples were suppressed, we could begin to build "our" history of the United States, the version taught in schools.  So jump forward to the post office (what??).  I walk up to mail something and start to chat with clerk behind the counter.  May also need some stamps, I enquired, browsing over the current postal stamps of people (Betty White/Barbara Bush), valor awards (Army, Navy, Marines), animation (Good Nite Moon, The Simpsons), and nature (Appalachia Trail, hummingbirds, etc.).  But it was the colorful powwow stamps that caught my eye, and as the clerk handed me the stamps, he added, "I can basically tell you what each of the tribal ceremonial designs are about, and what they represent."  Really?, I asked.   And so he did, from the shawl to the hoops to the beads & rattles.  Powwows (originally spelled pau wau and meant to designate a community gathering, wrote the USPS site) have an annual Gathering of Nations, attracting 100,000 participants and spectators each year in Albuquerque, NM.  "They seat the 'warriors' in a special section," he told me, "and since I'm a veteran, I got to be in that section and see the ceremony up close."  So it's worth going to a powwow, I asked rather naively because while I had heard the term powwow before, I actually knew nothing about it.  "Oh yes," he added.  And with that, I discovered not only more about him (it was also his birthday), but about Native American cultures...and myself.  How could I have talked about oppression and government mistreatment and historical significance when I found that what I actually "knew" about such history was pretty much nothing at all.  "They compete, you know," the clerk added before I turned to leave.  No I did not know.  Another tidbit to throw in my learning bucket.

     Simon Sinek wrote: I believe the best way to build this world is with leaders.  Good leaders,  Great leaders...Unfortunately, the practice of leadership is so misunderstood.  It has nothing to do with rank.  It has nothing to do with authority...Leadership is not about being in charge, it's about taking care of those in our charge.  It is about creating an environment in which people can rise to their natural best.  It is a distinctly human endeavor...Too many of us treat trust like a valuable asset that must be guarded.  That we can give it away only after someone has proved themselves worthy.  Sinek was writing the introduction to the story of Bruce Dell, a pastor who founded the City of Refuge.  In the book Trust First, pastor Dell wrote: ...trust in others; trust in ourselves; trust that we can do things differently tomorrow than we did them today.  Together we've seen how trust transforms both parties in the exchange, time and time again...The fact is, trust doesn't come easy to many of us, even those born in loving, secure homes and neighborhoods.  We're trust challenged these days in America, and we are increasingly hesitant to share our hearts with others, extending the benefit of the doubt.  We're more focused on how we're different than how we're alike.  Too much time spent with technology or inside our own homes makes us lonely, and the lonelier we get, the less we trust.  Even under the best of circumstances, trusting people we don't know well can be hard to do and even harder to sustain.  It requres us to humble ourselves, to make ourselves vulnerable, even at times to risk physical danger, three things that humans are not particularly well adapted to do.  But trust is essential to any human endeavor.  Trying to get things done together --whether at your church, your state legislature or municipal government, or your corporate campus-- slows to a crawl if people aren't willing to rely on one another.

     Mellow our tone, find common ground, no matter how small.  I discovered that while I was finding myself being occasionally irritated by my conservative friends' rhetoric, I was likely proving equally irritating when responding.  It shouldn't (and thankfully wouldn't) alter our decades-long friendship; but why or how could I have allowed politics to even begin to let that idea enter my mind?  What I felt about certain issues and what was happening in today's legislatures and courts was open to differing views and opinions.  But I didn't view myself shifting my stance entirely.  But that attitude was probably mirrored in the way my friends felt.  Life goes on.  This July issue of Utah Stories had other tales, an aging peach farmer who recently put all of his farm land ($30 million worth) into an agricultural easement (farmers on both sides of him sold out to developers).  As he told the magazine: This is a very special place for growing some of the best peaches in the world, and that should be preserved.  Another story about the Utah Islamic Center and their "Meet the Muslim" gatherings said: It is our duty, our responsibility, to let people come in.  And another story on rafting the Green River wrote: ...on the river, there's no algorithm.  There's no "us vs. them."  Nature is the great equalizer.  It doesn't care who you voted for.  It doesn't care what car you drive or whether your kids are in AP classes.  The canyon walls, sun-scorched rocks, bighorn sheep, and roaring rapids speak to something deeper, something universal.

      So one final story, but from my end.  I used to work with a guy who was quite a loner.  Few people seemed to like him, or even talk to him.  He was solid muscle as in street muscle (vs. gym muscle), the type of person you wouldn't mess with.  And he lived in a somewhat seedy part of town.  But since he didn't have a car, I would often offer to give him a ride home after work, even if it was just slightly out of my way...through city streets vs. the usual quick route I took, but no big deal.  His life was toughened by the war, his stories of his years in Vietnam fascinated me as much as they damaged him.  He was recon, he told me, those units that go in first to clear the path of mines and trip wires, and eliminate the threat of enemy ambush so that choppers and the infantry could actually touch down in the ares.  They saw stuff most wouldn't want to see, spy stuff behind enemy lines, Navy Seal and Green Beret stuff except this was a working unit of soldiers.  So what did he do now, after work, in his off time, I asked.  His mother was sick, he told me, she requires my time.  And that was that.  He was deeply religious, deeply caring, a genuine nice guy but only if you talked to him.  He was not the type for chit chat or fluff conversation; truth is I doubt he had told his war "stories" to anyone other than perhaps a fellow combatant.  Certainly not to a happy-go-lucky civilian like me.  But I asked.  And I talked.  It wasn't hard to do.  It just took that first step, that powwow....

    When writing about his trip down the Green River, author Richard Markosian wrote: Politics didn't come up once on the river.  We likely had MAGAs and anti-MAGAs onboard, but no one brought it up.  Why risk a metaphorical nuclear war in such a serene setting?  Conversations stayed grounded in things that matter: personal stories, past adventures, and how to preserve the Western lifestyle now threatened by unchecked growth...nature heals in ways our modern world can't replicate.  We're a society addicted to stimulation and plagued by anxiety, depression, burnout, and disconnection.  We try to "self-medicate" with substances and screen time.  But the root causes --bad sleep, too much pressure, poor diets, no time to slow down-- are persistent.  On this trip, I began to believe that the answer isn't more apps or therapy or productivity hacks.  It's simpler than that.  We need more rivers.  More nature.  More conversation.  More real human connection.  Looking back, I didn't know, or care, what "side" that farmer was on, or that river runner, or that postal clerk, or even my recon warrior (like so many Vietnam vets, he passed away from an unnamed cancer, and not long after the death of his mother).  The more I read about or talked to them, the better I saw them.  They had their interests and they were worth listening to... 

      So talk to others.  Keep yourself open, and just trust in yourself.  Walt Disney got fired from his reporter job in Kansas City because he was told he "lacked imagination."  Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team.  Einstein allegedly didn't speak until he was 4 or 5, nor read until he was 7.  But they all trusted their inner voice and their belief that they could do what felt right.  So take that away this July, your belief in this country --your country-- and your planet and home...and yourself.  Politics will always come and go, and equally often, change with the wind.  But politics is far different than how you feel about what's truly inside you.  Turn off, or down, the noise...take a moment to listen.  That's your heart beating, and it's likely telling you a thing or two...