What’s Your Story?
I attended a wedding about 5 years ago. It was a wedding for my wife’s cousin Andy. Andy was my wife’s youngest cousin, and he had just recently completed the “wild oats” portion of his life, where he had earned the nickname “Skip Goodlove.” One of his fraternity brothers gave him that name because Andy was in the habit of taking odd jobs and working for a while somewhere, then hitting the road and starting over. If you have seen the film “The Big Chill”, Andy was like the character in the film played by Kevin Costner. You may be thinking, I don’t recall Costner in that film. Alas, he was in it. He played the character that brought the friends all together. He was the deceased. Andy was that guy, right down to the suicide, but not yet. This was Andy’s wedding.
In the film, the various characters talked about their memories of Alex, who had been a brilliant student at University of Michigan, but who had lost his way, and eventually lost connection with the others while they pursued their respective lives. The story describes the evolution of souls from the idealism of youth to the pragmatism of purpose in middle age. Similarly, our Andy, “Skip Goodlove”, was a straight “A” student at Miami University in Finance. He was also the president of his fraternity. Andy, like Alex, never managed to transition into the world of the “Chill”. His soul seemed to be more at home on the winds where vagabonds live.
His father, TJ, my “Uncle MAGA”, had asked me once, a couple of years earlier, “why do you think Andy doesn’t have a girlfriend?” At that time, “Skip Goodlove” had returned home, and was living with his parents and working construction. It was amusing for my wife and me, as her aunt Janie, TJ’s wife, and Andy’s mother, gave a tour of one of their homes. She is a sweet, loving, very Christian woman. You will never find a kinder, more loving person than Janie. And as we got the tour of their home, we passed Andy’s bedroom. Janie described it as “only temporary.” You may have had to be there for the hilarity of it, but the emphasis placed on this description communicated a great deal. There was a bit of discomfort in the fact that this baby bird had seemingly failed to launch, and Janie wanted to make sure we did not get the wrong impression of my wife’s cousin.
We didn’t. There wasn’t a darned thing wrong with Andy, and we felt no urgency to see him evolve. TJ and Janie could certainly afford it. That was part of what was so amusing about it. Skip Goodlove had just completed a tour of the continental U.S., and sleeping on various friends couches, etc, and had landed back in the lap of luxury in his parent’s home. He was going to Episcopal services with his parents, and golfing at their club. Deciding whether or not to attend meals with them at the club, or grazing from the refrigerator over these exquisite meals that Janie made at home. He was a loving son, and his parents were loving parents. We saw no problem. Skip would come around in his own time.
Then, before you could say “Ronald Reagan”, there was a girlfriend. She was/is beautiful, and pleasant. They got along great, and their relationship seemed to go from dating, to engagement in a very short time. Maybe 10 months after the wedding, there was a daughter. And then there were three.
We gathered for the wedding on a private island where TJ and Janie had another home. At the center of this island community is yet another golf course, and yet another club. Clubs are at the center of TJ and Janie’s life. That alone may be somewhat misleading, because they are also quite genuinely religious. Christianity and family are also at the center of their lives. So, as we gathered for the wedding where Skip Goodlove would permanently become Andy, husband and eventually father, my wife and I were immersed in severals days of Chardonnay, Gin and Tonic, sumptuous meals, and various outings around the island and the mainland communities.
Time with TJ and me was always easy, although our politics could not be more different. TJ absolutely unloads with me. He confides me in like he never has with his sons, Andy, and TJ Jr. Some of my favorite times with TJ are when he gets a couple of his favorite Montecristo cigars, and we go to a special room, or porch, and just talk a built the world as it is, or as it should be. It was one of those times when he asked me why Andy didn’t have a girlfriend.
At the reception dinner, Amy and I were given a special place at the main table. TJ was on one side of us, and Janie on the other. TJ sat next to me, in tears most of the time, unloading various bits and pieces of family history. Later that day, I became acquainted with TJ’s brother in law, Jim. Jim is also a wonderful man. He’s a Republican like TJ and Janie, but definitely not MAGA. Before long, after talking with Jim, he was also in tears, talking about how good it has been for TJ to talk to me. Mind you, I never had any sense that I was doing anything for TJ. I just enjoy him. But, it was Jim’s view that TJ was able to unburden himself with me, and for some reason, seeing that unburdening was a great relief to him as well.
When I finally got away from the two old dudes, Amy and I got to spend time with her cousins. All of us are middle aged. Andy was the youngest. This involved mingling around the island home, holding glasses of Chardonnay. There were also a few bourbons in the room. Since I only had a few days in this environment, I decided to take advantage by putting a notepad and pen in my shirt pocket, so that I could record any fascinating expression or turn of a phrase, of which I was not familiar. People had traveled from various parts of the country, and the environment were were in was quite different, so I thought I was bound to find grist for the mill.
As pleasant and festive as it was, it seemed to lack a certain something. On the surface, everyone was so freakin’ happy. I sensed no…conflict. So, I went looking for it. One by one I peeled one of the three cousins that I knew the least, and asked them, “so, what’s your story”? The first two were Mary and Dirk. Mary is Jim’s daughter, and Dirk is her husband. They are both Amazon executives. Dirk all by himself is an interesting character. He looks like a Bond villain, and he drove a yellow Corvette. And when I say yellow, I mean YELLOW. It was fun for Amy and me because I think Dirk kept a rag in his pocket and wiped the car off whenever he got out of it. And, as for the yellow. You know what it is to see something yellow and recognize the color. This was more than that. This car could drive up behind you in the dark, and without turning around you could recognize that it was yellow. It was that yellow. Amy and I call that, “Dirk Yellow”.
So, in one of the rooms where the events of the evening had moved, I slid over to Dirk and asked, “so, what’s your story? What are you politics?” Dirk looked at me and turned white. Whiter than he already was. He mumbled something about being nervous about the subject because his were different from “the family’s”, principally TJ’s Janie’s and Jim’s. I also sensed that Dirk thought I was a conservative. I told him, “dont make any assumptions. Just tell me.” So, he told me. Dirk was a liberal. So was Mary. Dirk was also a Navy veteran. In fact, TJ and Jim were also military veterans, so that made 4 of us. Two middle aged liberals and two Vietnam era conservatives.
Dirk and Mary are two brilliant minds, and very successful executives, so, their reticence about showing their philosophical differences confused me. They could easily hold their own, if it came to that. They were very well informed. And while the seeds of intellectual conflict did exist, intellectual debate never sprouted. A certain establishment view held sway. I call it the power perspective, The justice perspective didn’t show its face. There was disagreement within the power perspective. TJ liked Trump, and Jim thought he was a jackass. (This was 2015).
I was disappointed at first. I really felt like I found no conflict. It essentially took the next five years, and some thought about what it means to live in America to be able to begin to comprehend what conflict existed within that happy, privilege environment. Let me say here that while it was a privileged environment, for this context, it is sociological privilege, and not being privileged that I intend to focus on. Often the discussion of privilege gets conflated with having privileges. That is a misunderstanding. Privilege in this context involves a separation from everyday obstacles in the navigation of daily life. It is not just a worldview, but also a way the world views you. And while privileges, like having servants at the various events, of which there were several, privilege is more like whether or not life channels you into being a servant, or a corporate executive. Members at Andy’s wedding had different philosophical orientations, but they drank wine from the same bottles, in the same rooms, at the same clubs. No conflict to be seen.
Five years later, we are all looking at our nation, and wondering what will become of it. Most of us managed to get out and vote, in one way or another, to make sure that the country did not continue on the path that it started to take once Donald Trump became president. Maybe all within the range of my blog page are already voters. This would be an issue oriented group. And most of us, if not all, agree that removing Trump from office was what was needed. Now, eighteen days after the election, we can’t be absolutely certain that the direction we chose will come to fruition. Trump is trying to achieve his personal ends in defiance of that which we took for granted as the lawful, just principle. A transition in power is highly likely, but not as certain as we are accustomed to. And this reality, five years after the gathering for Andy’s wedding, the conflict in America has become painfully clear.
In a Black family, no matter how middle class comfortable, one would not have to search for a social justice debate. I can recall mention of discussions in my own family of that young loud-mouthed Muhammad Ali, who had abandoned Christianity for Islam, creating a schism among an otherwise homogenous group. I remember my father being the outlier in that group, claiming that Ali was a promising youngster with a point. My Aunt Nancy, my Mom’s sister, was the most vocal Christian soldier opposed to Ali’s change of religion, and conduct. I was more familiar with seeing the boiling pot of controversy, so it was curious to be a party to the Chardonnay silence of my wife’s family.
But, now, it is becoming clear how “and justice for all” was just poetry, inserted in the pledge more for rhythm than meaning. This conflict between systems of justice and systems of power exists everywhere there are systems, and power is the orthodoxy. This last five years has included things which most of us thought we would never see in our country. This is especially so for this year, 2020. Conservative or liberal, bigoted or not, we all looked down on other countries, to one degree or another, for what they had to endure. Look at the poor people. What a pity. Look at the political instability. If only they were more like us. Loom at the rampant disease. Don’t they wash? Look at how they lock up children in cages. Savages!
Well, that’s us now. And when I think, how can they do that, condone that? Some of these conflicts within the Chardonnay party begin to come into view. We are all making choices regarding how much comfort we want, and how much conflict we can stand. We are making those choices every day. I have a harder time these days choosing comfort. More than ever, I would like to push the accelerator for social justice. That notion seems to bother 47.5% of the country.
koshersalaami
11/21/2020 @ 3:28 pm
47.5% of the country doesn’t acknowledge that we have a serious social justice problem. They don’t know it but, far more importantly, they don’t want to know it. They want to believe we don’t have one. They think their lives are better if we don’t have one.
That last sentence can be taken in two ways. Taken literally, they’re right. Taken they way they mean it, they’re wrong.
I don’t know what to make of current politics. I guess the best way to make sense of it is that so many Americans are so unfamiliar with what the big deal really is about America that they have no idea what they’re risking and less idea that they’re being profoundly, embarrassingly unAmerican.
Ron Powell
11/22/2020 @ 11:51 am
“We are all making choices regarding how much comfort we want, and how much conflict we can stand.”
There are those among us whose life experiences don’t include a modicum of comfort along the racial faultline which, in the age of Trump and Trumpism, has become a gaping divide which is impossible to ignore or deny…
For me , the lack or failure of confrontational conflict that comes from speaking truth to power is disquieting and disturbing…
It is the ignorance and the
indifference of the 47.5% that is the source of my discomfort.
How can any black person be comfortable with the fact that virtually half of the White people in this country still consciously choose to ignore or deny the common humanity shared by all of us?
Bitey
11/22/2020 @ 12:40 pm
Your last line is a question that I am pondering currently. I suggest not answering it easily or quickly. Let it sit a while so that it might become the wine of wisdom rather than a whine of zeitgeist.
I’m looking back at my life to see how I might have been failed by being encouraged to be a good citizen, or how I might have failed by being one. Maybe you have to get along some to have power, and you have to agitate some to have justice. Also, you have to agitate some to have power, and you have to get along some to have justice. What is the right mix? I will be thinking about this for a while.
Art W. Stone
11/22/2020 @ 1:21 pm
Your posts give me pause for reflection, as do the responses.
Statistical analysis is fraught with incongruities and false conclusions.
I am not certain at all that 47.5% of White Americans “consciously choose to ignore or deny the common humanity shared by all of us.”
It’s a bigger number than that.
Ron Powell
11/22/2020 @ 4:37 pm
I may be wrong but, I believe this stat is a reference to the percentage of those who voted for Trump…
When you look at the total population,
I would tend to agree;
”It’s a bigger number than that.”
Bitey
11/22/2020 @ 5:08 pm
Yep. It is Trump’s popular vote percentage.
koshersalaami
11/22/2020 @ 11:32 pm
Did one of you post the link for the talk by a British woman about how little regulation there is on social media and how it’s used to swing elections untraceably? In case you didn’t:
Brexit is a terrible move for Britain. So how did the Brexit advocates win the election? It turns out there was a lot of support for Brexit in Wales. This woman wanted to know why, and when she asked around, she started hearing “Because of the Turks.”
What Turks?
Someone, we have no idea who, ran a series of ads on social media, I think mainly Facebook, during the election, but only in Wales. The ads warned that if Britain stayed in the EU, they would legally be inundated with Turkish immigrants. After the election, it disappeared.
Untraceably.
It was entirely fiction. There were no waves of Turks coming to Britain. But it didn’t matter that it was fiction, most of the country never heard this manufactured rumor, and it accomplished the awful and consequential task of breaking Britain from the EU.
It’s also possible the ads were in Welsh. I don’t know. That would make them incomprehensible to most Britons even if they saw the ad.
I guarantee you that there are now all sorts of nasty comments made about Turks in Welsh bars. And if someone told them building a wall would keep the Turks out, they’d favor a wall.
The equivalent of that was done in the United States by Russian agents. Also by some home grown supremecist organizations. Like with Wales, the people in the US who are afraid of the Mexican Terrorist Hordes mainly live in the Great Lakes, far from the invaders like the Welsh lived far from where the fictitious invaders would go. They have no experience to the contrary.
This is basically what Goebbels did, only Jews served as the Mexicans, Turks and almost everyone else.
People believe shit. Most of them don’t stop and ask themselves “Wait, does this make any sense?” We’ve seen that here and it’s actually how I started blogging.
By here I don’t just mean Pannier. I’m pretty sure this was after OurSalon. Someone wrote a post about how an old Jewish banking family, the Rothschilds, had grown their wealth since they were no longer conspicuous to the point where they owned majority shares in the national banks of every significant country, including China and Iran. Because I figured I’d better have actual authority when contesting this I went over to Snopes and, sure enough, they’d heard it and debunked it. The person who published this here certainly didn’t originate it, just agreed politically with its source and so trusted it. By the way, the opposite happened to the Rothschilds: as the number of heirs grew down the generations, the fortune got more divided up.
How it started me blogging was ten years ago. I had followed Jon Wolfman to Open just to comment on his posts. I was no writer. I didn’t know what a blog was. Where Jon and I knew each other was in a chatroom at AOL called Beliefs Judaism, filled mainly with older Jews. One of them stayed in contact with me for a while. She was in Florida, she got lots of conservative emails (she was conservative) which I proceeded to debunk and answer her about. Like: Let’s boycott these banks that are giving illegal immigrants credit cards. Uh, OK, so you Don’t want them spending their money here instead of sending it home?
I wrote her a long detailed reply, in fact it was the one that included the boycott the banks thing, then I looked at it and thought “Maybe this could be a post.” But no one knew me, so I asked Jon to publish it on his site but give me a pseudonym. He did. It went over pretty well, so I figured I could do this. So my actual first post wasn’t on my own blog.
That’s a tangent. My point is that people are being fed shit, they’re being fed shit we don’t know they’re being fed, they’re buying into it, and in addition to the normal bigots we’ve got all these fearful people who are afraid of everyone, including thinking that if we let five more Muslims into the country we’re all going to adopt Sharia. Uh, how? How numerous do they have to get before this happens? You’ve heard of Sharia being practiced? In some communities, yes, but it doesn’t replace civil law, even to them.
It’s too easy not to think. The Show Me State is a myth, as is its attitude these days. They’re fine with anecdotes from secondary sources. They’ll listen to Rush tell them what’s going on with Black people but if you weren’t Black and you wanted to understand what Blacks faced, would you ask Rush? They’re doing the same thing with COVID. Can you imagine that any of these people fighting against the use of masks got that kind of assessment from their doctors? Who else in their lives would understand infectious diseases?
This is all about myth support. Every once in a while something happens where the myth gets a hole in it and the reaction from the country is fast and huge. After Dylann Roof shot up a Black church in Charleston, SC, it shook Nikki Haley so bad she came out against the Confederate flag. It was off of WalMart’s shelves within something like 72 hours. It happened again, bigger, in reaction to George Floyd. They watched a guy get murdered by a cop on YouTube. Suddenly they could all be witnesses. And, for whatever reason, they chose to watch.
But there it is. For a Hell of a lot of them, who’s exciting them about The Turks Are Coming?
Ron Powell
11/23/2020 @ 1:24 am
I posted it and got no commentary….
Ron Powell
11/23/2020 @ 1:46 am
Here’s the link to my post….
It’s well worth a look…
Bitey
11/23/2020 @ 7:32 am
That video after Kosher’s comment are a lot to process on the first cup of coffee of the morning. You and Kosher are in full gallop after midnight, and I am tucked away in bed. When I awake in the early morning, usually just a few hours after you two have finished writing or commenting, it takes some effort to be able to process some of your respective contributions. This is a perfect example.
This morning started as they usually do. I wake without an alarm between 4 and 5 am. I try not to put my feet on the floor until at least 5. This morning it was luxuriously, decadently around 5:45. Every morning, my eyelids are like two garage doors on tracks which have not been lubricated since they were installed. I can open them, but my vision, at first, is no better with my eyes open than it is with the lids closed. It is blurry and dark, but opening them starts a process that takes a couple of minutes, so I start the process, just like turning on a console television in the late 1960’s. Give it a minute.
I grab my glasses in the dark and place them on top of my head, then I unplug my iPhone. I walk into the newly remodeled bathroom, with the blue light glowing from under the seat of the “intelligent” toilet that I had installed. In and out of there in a u-turn in about a minute, and then to the stairs. My 17 month old Labrador knows this routine, and waits until I am headed for the stairs before he runs up to my side. He positions himself on my right side every morning, and I grab his muzzle with my right hand in the dark. He snorts the same way every time as we proceed down the stairs. After a few turns, we are in the kitchen. I let Miles out into the backyard, stare at the stains for a few seconds now that it is getting colder, and then go back into the kitchen. I grab a glass of water and my vitamins. Then I walk over to my coffee station. I scoop several scoops of beans from the canister into the grinder. Right about the time I am fished scooping beans, Miles has returned to the back door. It only takes a few seconds to grind the beans, but I usually walk over to the door and let him in before he gives his single baritone bark announcing himself. When I let him in, he comes in wagging. If I make eye contact with him, he wagging suddenly accelerates which causes a wiggle. Seeing his excitement burst is just the second thing I have actually seen since getting out of bed. The first thing being the last constellations in the sky as the requisite darkness recedes.
Then, I walk back over to the coffee grinder, and grind the beans. That takes a few seconds. From there, I place the beans into a coffee filter made from recycled paper. Then I take the ground beans, place them in the coffee maker, and measure out the water for the pot. This is the first time I need my glasses each day. I pop them down onto my nose, and get my exact measurement, and fill the coffee maker and turn it on. At that point, I grab a small yogurt from the fridge, and walk to the table where my iPad is sitting. Miles follows me because he loves the bottom on the cup.
All of that takes about 15 minutes. That’s when I grab my first cup of coffee and check messages, and any changes on BS. I was in this state when I read your comment about myths and tangents, and Jon Wolfman, and Ron’s link. I had to read your comment carefully…because KosherSalaami, and then went to view Ron’s link. The link itself was 14 minutes plus, and it was riveting. So, the first 30 minutes of this morning will set the course for my pondering for the day. So many thoughts.
Art W. Stone
11/23/2020 @ 11:09 am
Bitey’s morning routine and the reaction to ingesting a back and forth discussion is eerily similar to mine, but my cat doesn’t bark.
Bitey
11/23/2020 @ 11:57 am
That’s good to know, AWS. When I sit down to write something like that, I feel like the character in Bernie Taupin’s “Rocketman.” Pouring a thought directly on to {paper} without a facial cue to observe is a bit alienating. The hope is that someone finds something familiar in it.
koshersalaami
11/23/2020 @ 6:14 pm
When you write, you never get to see the facial expressions of your audience. The best you hope for is comments in a place like this one.