Don’t Call Me…
For most of my life, I have enjoyed talking. I have even been known for enjoying talking. In kindergarten, I was selected by my teacher as our student council representative because I would talk in a room full of people, (and kindergarteners can’t comprehend the process of voting). In that same elementary school, I wrote and delivered a speech to the graduating class (6th grade) from the 5th grade. That speech is still delivered at my elementary school.
I loved talking to my parents when I was a kid. They always seemed like a bottomless well of information. I enjoyed listening to and watching my parents and aunts and uncles as they spoke. They had a fascinating complexity to how they communicated things. Some messages had lots of expression, and interesting, unusual words and phrases. Some had minimal expression and coded words and phrases. Often I could tell that something was being communicated, but had no idea what exactly.
My freshman year in college, sometimes friends and I would sit up all night talking about various things. We would also watch and listen to the speakers on the Oval in the center of campus giving speeches on all sorts of things. Those were often interactive. Students would ask questions, or debate the speakers on a variety of issues. One old speaker would berate the students about their morals. He was some sort of fundamentalist evangelical, and would call the students “fornicators and masturbators.” This was always a highlight of the day. He was quite serious, and the students surrounding him found it quite hilarious.
I have enjoyed finding agreement among friends and strangers, and I have enjoyed disagreements. Sometimes I learned a new perspective, and other times I learned how flawed perspectives were constructed. I always found both experiences fascinating. I have had jobs that required a great deal of speaking, and how well I did my job could often depend on how effective I was at communicating. Sometimes it even came down to a safety issue. I have always had a great comfort with talking, speaking, and listening. I recall even working in a office when one colleague brought his daughter in who had just gotten into West Point. When he introduced me, he said, “be careful with Bill. He will listen to every word you say, and then probably ask you some detail about it.” I did not know that about myself until I heard my colleague say it.
Two things relatively recently have made me feel different about talking. My feeling about talking had gone relatively unchanged since kindergarten, but the advent of smartphones made me like talking less. Now, if it is through a device, I would almost prefer text. I don’t particularly like FaceTime either. It seems like more of a distraction than what had previously seemed like easy communication.
The second thing is the real point of this post. The category is a bit specific. That category is people with whom I had a previous relationship, who ultimately became Trump supporters. I simply can’t stand talking to these people on the phone. I don’t understand why they want to speak to me, and some I have known for decades. If I have to speak with them, I would much prefer to speak to them in person. I don’t have the slightest inkling as to why this is, and I understand that some may feel exactly the opposite. Some may consider it easier to speak through a device when it comes to speaking with someone that you’d prefer not to speak with. What I simply do not understand about myself is, I feel exactly the opposite. I would rather have the difficult conversation face to face. Frankly, it does not even have to be about the difficult subject. It can be about anything but that which we disagree, and I would still prefer to converse with that person face to face.
I don’t answer calls from those that I know to be Trumpers. I apologize. I know full well that it is rude. I just don’t. It gets worse. I don’t return those calls. Sorry about that. It bugs me somewhat that I can’t. I don’t really understand it, but I can’t fathom why someone who supports a modern day fascist wants to speak with me. I don’t understand why they think I would speak with them. If they spoke with me in person, they would have no difficulty communicating with me. I don’t even have any reticence about making my views plain face to face. I have done so in more direct terms than I have expressed in writing here. I just don’t want to do that on the telephone, and I have no clue as to why.
There is a scene from a 1997 film, “Life is Beautiful”, that I think of when I think of the Trumpers with whom I am associated. The film is about the life and death of an Italian Jewish man who is sent to a concentration camp during WWII, and does not make it out alive. The main character plays a waiter/husband/father, with an irrepressible character. His upbeat, positive personality stand in stark contrast to the dark, threatening rise of authoritarianism in Europe of the 1930s. At one point, the main character comes to a stark realization about what he is dealing with as he speaks to this Nazi uniformed doctor. The doctor is addicted to solving riddles and puzzles, and the waiter is skilled in solving them. The waiter and the doctor have a sort of friendship, and the waiter thinks of this as one would about any reciprocal friendship. As the grip of Nazi evil is coming down onto the waiter and his family, the waiter seeks the help of this Nazi doctor/officer for his family. All at once, the waiter realizes that he and the doctor were never friends. The doctor has no use for him, sees no value in him except to solve these puzzles. Otherwise, he couldn’t care less about what happens to the waiter or his family.
Whether right or wrong, this is exactly how I feel about speaking with Trumpers that I knew prior to Trump’s presidency. You may feel that this is overstating Trump malice potential. Fair enough. However, the way I see it is, we will only know for certain once it is too late. I am not willing to mingle with it while that is determined more accurately. I am fully comfortable with the notion that the fault may be mine. That is why those calls don’t get returned.
I wish they could understand that.
Suzanne
06/11/2023 @ 10:08 am
Lol, hear you abt the talky, and of course, can relate. Ironically, talky people often are introverts who learned to be extroverts in public. I can go three days w/o leaving the studio and it feels dreamy.
Thing you might explore is why you (seem) to feel guilty abt not wanting to waste your precious time chatting with these folks. Life is freaking short and we don’t have piles of it left. Talking with people who hold these perspectives can feel like stabbing yourself in the eye, painful, punishing even. What’s wrong with talking with people with whom you enjoy a sense of belonging.
Also, I highly recommend talking with young people. They are having none of this bullshit and it feels good, knowing they will be here after I’m gone.
Enough talking for me today :-). It’s sunny here after days of gray, the air’s finally clear, I’m headed outside to contemplate the state of grass growing 🙂
Bitey
06/11/2023 @ 10:24 am
Great question. Why do I feel guilty about not talking to those whom I do not want to talk? I actually have an easy answer for that. I feel like I owe them an explanation. I don’t mind being a deadbeat in that transaction, but I feel, for some reason, that I always owe an answer. I’m with you on the too little time idea. What once seemed infinite now seems precious.
I also agree about talking with young people. I’ve been working with a trainer for the past year, and I find searching out her perspective fascinating. She and her boyfriend are great young people. They are talented, and friendly, and make me feel very good about the future. My wife and I took them to dinner a week ago and it was a fantastic night. We are coming close to moving out of town, and our training relationship is coming to an end, but we have a friendship. The two of them are like our adopted kids, and they want to visit us in DC once the dust has settled from the move.
Suzanne
06/11/2023 @ 3:01 pm
Bitey the time you’d spend talking with a Trump supporter is time you could use to talk with someone who doesn’t stress you out, and whose company you enjoy. Or you could use that time to read a book, learn things you enjoy learning, instead of listening to nonsense. It can feel like a challenge for reasonable intelligent people to listen to nonsense, like there’s some switch that flips and makes you go, wait, no, that’s not true and here’s why. Then you never get that hour back.
I was raised in western PA, my family and their friends were all guns and GOP. My mother’s brother worked for Scott Walker in Milwaukee. To him, I was an uppity woman tenured academic card-carrying teacher’s union member living with a man who was not my husband, i.e. the worst of the worst. He liked to tell me that when Scott Walker became president, I’d need a back-up occupation, did I know how to type? Where’s Scott Walker now? And my uncle? Sadly, he passed away of covid. Trump too will pass. I’m hoping to live long enough to enjoy that.
My old hippie self still wants to love everybody, but when time no longer seems infinite, the view changes. Trump supporters my age have The Villages. Go there and have a great last chapter riding around in golf carts festooned with Trump flags and hitting on each other at happy hour by the pool. Imma gonna enjoy my lovely blue state with my lesbian governor who successfully sued the Sackler family, make art, go to talks, read books, and cancel you out at the polls 🙂
Art Stone
06/12/2023 @ 12:03 pm
I use a flip-phone. Text is a real pain to do, so it’s perfect for me.
I have this keyboard device and use it for email, occasionally adding a short comment to blogs I see here.
I made umpteen thousands phone calls in my business career and now use it like a nail uses a hammer. It doesn’t seem to be optional at times but once the nail is driven there isn’t any desire to keep going.
Fortunately I cannot think of a single T***** supporter in my circle of friends/acquaintances, so ignoring them is easy.
I like it this way.
koshersalaami
06/13/2023 @ 7:34 am
I don’t generally have conversations with Trump supporters these days. They’re too alien. For my wife it’s Facebook. She cuts off notifications from them, including cousins and the like. She has no patience for it.
Those conversations contain too many myths.
I sometimes have them on Quora but not often.
The Life Is Beautiful thing sounds a little like conversations I’ve had with Ron about Trump supporters, but with a twist. What he reports finding is this disconnect from support for Trump and not caring about populations Trump is down on. He has acquaintances who don’t get that support for Trump indicates not caring about him, that he’s not important enough to count in an electoral decision. I imagine this happened a lot with Nazi supporters in Germany. They didn’t all hate Jews but they liked a lot of what Hitler was saying and they were willing to to tolerate his antisemitism to get the rest of it, but that is a decision about who is unimportant. There are Jews who feel that way about Farrakhan or at least did when he was more prominent.
Bitey
06/13/2023 @ 9:47 am
Yes, I feel exactly like your explanation of Ron’s view. It actually boggles my mind that anyone feels differently. One former friend who had voted Republican for years is in this category. We went back and forth for years about various politicians. Once Trump came along, I asked him about his vote. Right at the beginning of his term he said to me, “yeah, he’s batshit crazy, but I love that tax cut.” I said to him, “they’re taking families at the border and separating parents from children…” Then his wife broke in and said, “let’s not discuss politics.”
Some time later, within a week or so, I said to him in am email that I was concerned about how Trump treated people from other races, and how racial lines were being drawn around these issues. I said, that places me in a position where I needed to hear from my friends about their positions. Not talking about it said to me that I lacked humanitarian support or value, and just that the ‘friend’ lacked the willingness to say so. A time had come to not require me to assume.
That weekend we were to meet for breakfast…the four of us. This happened as if the previous conversation had never happened. Amy and I never showed for breakfast, and never saw them again. Since then, as Trump sank deeper and deeper into the crazy, I never heard a peep. (Incidentally, his mother, father, brother, and sister-in-law all agree with me).
My assumption now is that those people (Trumpers) would not lift a finger if the government wanted to put my people on a train to an extermination camp. I refuse to be surprised by this, should it come to pass. Back when Trump was putting immigrants in cages and separating families, I said that he was a “Nazi.” (Obviously not a member of the party that made war in Europe in the 30s and 40s, but an authoritarian. I was never in the camp of those who said, you can’t say “Nazi”). By now, Trump is much more overtly authoritarian, complete with tiki torch wanna-be Nazi fan-boys. For me, a conversation with a former associate who is a known Trump supporter needs to start with the promise that they are not Christo-fascists…and no longer Trump supporters. Without that, I don’t have anything to say.
koshersalaami
06/14/2023 @ 12:34 am
The thing that surprised me most about Trump is how many lines his followers would let him cross, lines that they couldn’t imagine tolerating a Democrat who crossed them. Trump said early on that he could shoot a person in the middle of Times Square and not lose his followers. He wasn’t exaggerating.
The response is either to defend or, in a behavior learned from Trump, to deny it happened at all, which entails unbelievable cowardice.