Today is the day, and it's a big one. I thought much about writing something up days ago with my thoughts on who to vote for, and why. But, then I realized that - for better or worse - most American minds have been made up for some time, and those who are looking for a nudge are probably not coming here to get their intel and form their opinions. So, instead, some thoughts on what we can, what we should, do tomorrow. No matter what happens, no matter who wins and who loses. Talk. Listen. Part some curtains. Connect.
“You a Trump or Kamala guy?” he asked off the cuff, catching me off-guard a bit.
A strange question to be asked in public in this day and age. It was said with no judgment, no malice or malintent, just a question thrown out as casually as one about the weather.
I had stopped in to refuel at Marshdale General Store, a small blip on County Highway 73 halfway between Evergreen and Conifer. Most don’t know it’s there, and fewer stop in. I make it a point when I can because it offers a diversion from the big box convenience store, a throwback to a bygone era where people greet each other, know each other, stop to chat for a spell over the cash register about life and work and weather and pastries (grab a homemade bacon blossom if you’re there - trust me) and, yes, I guess politics too.
“Kamala all the way,” I said, a tad sheepishly over the banter of a Joe Rogan podcast playing in the background.
“That’s cool,” the clerk said with a smile. “Me, I voted for Trump. Don’t forget to grab some napkins for that blossom - you’ll need ‘em!” he advised with a knowing look.
We talked for a few more minutes about politics, about our beliefs, our commonalities and our differences.
It was…normal. It was what Americans have done for, well, forever: talking, disagreeing, laughing, conflicting, aligning here and misaligning there, and yet still seeing each other as people, as neighbors, as humans with a story and a heart and a mind, despite our differences.
…when we learned to speak to, and listen to, rather than to strike or be struck by, our fellow human beings, we found something worth keeping alive, worth the possessing, for the rest of time.
Eudora Welty, "The Norton Book of Friendship" (read online)
When our kids were little, before school we’d make the half-mile trek down Douglas Park Road to get fresh apple fritters from Tin Star Cafe. The ritual satisfied their sugartooth craving, and simultaneously my desire for them to see a dying phenomenon that I dubbed the Irascible Elder Coffee Klatch: a group of 6-10 men, mid-50s to late-70s, sipping coffee together around a table. Some wore neatly pressed shirts and loafers, others coveralls and steel-toed boots, some donned an outdoorsy fleece or puffy. The beauty, though, was in the conversation: lively, cantankerous, defiant, often bellowing, as heated debates about politics and policies erupted. One day the subject would be Obama policies early in his second term, and the next about Jefferson County’s seeming distaste for our unincorporated area and whether Evergreen should incorporate. Disagreement, often vehement, was the rule rather than the exception. But always the table was full of smiles and back claps, the agreement to disagree never breaking the bonds of friendship and humanity.
And without fail, the next time fritters were on the morning menu, the Klatch was there to add ambiance.
Tin Star closed its doors years back, and I’m not sure what became of the Klatch: I’ve looked for them at various haunts, but to no avail. I miss those fritters, but more I miss the Klatch and how it reminded me and anyone paying attention that disagreement is not division - or at least it doesn’t have to be. We can - we should - disagree over things, from politics to the weather to whatever it may be. We can - we should - hold strong to our opinions, but also listen, hear the other side, learn when we can, change when we must, and always see that the other side is not stupid or daft or dangerous, but just another person with another opinion, another fellow traveler on this little blue dot.
As I left the Marshdale General Store, I turned back to the clerk.
“Can we both promise that whatever happens on November 5th, we can still talk just as openly?” I asked.
“You got it, brother,” was his quick reply. “Come back in and grab a coffee.”
Maybe the Klatch is still around.
...my wish, indeed my continuing passion, would be not to point the finger in judgment but to part a curtain, that invisible shadow that falls between people, the veil of indifference to each other’s presence, each other’s wonder, each other’s human plight.
Eudora Welty, "One Time - One Place" (read online)
