Even if you’ve been living on the moon for the past few months, you will still be aware that we are ramping up to one of the biggest (at the very least, in terms of voter turn-out) elections in decades. Because if you’ve been getting your mail forwarded to the moon, you can’t help but see all the campaign ads. If not, just look down here; you can probably see the giant flag my neighbor put up months ago in support of that one candidate.
I have a flag up, too, plus a yard sign, but mine is for the other guy.
If you’re questioning whether you should keep reading because you’ve absolutely had it up to your eyeballs with all the political vitriol and you don’t want to hear it from me, you won’t, so keep reading. Please.
You know if you’re a regular reader of this blog, four years ago I moved to a senior community in Calimesa, a little town (by California standards, population 8,937) 70 miles due east of Los Angeles. Where I live, that one guy has a lot of fans, and I’ll give them this respect: They are absolutely enthusiastic about their guy.
So flags and signs went up early on in the campaign all over the park (even though the rules of our lease state that they can’t be up until 90 days before the election, but whatever).
Eventually, signs, flags, magnets and stickers started showing up for the other guy, too. I won’t say there was a balance of the two sides, but both guys are well represented here.
Earlier in the year I spoke to several of my neighbors and friends in the park, and I was sad to hear some of them express a bit of intimidation; they said they wouldn’t put a sign in their yard (for that one guy or the other guy) because they feared retaliation.
Retaliation? Really? Here? Where a firetruck and/or ambulance doesn’t make it all the way to its destination before someone posts on Facebook that they’re in the park, followed by a long list of comments promising thoughts and prayers going out for whomever is in need of emergency response. Or where a friend suddenly found herself in need of insulin for her disabled, diabetic daughter and someone (again, via Facebook) provided that needed insulin within minutes. Where another resident, who doesn’t drive, asked for a ride to a convalescent center to visit her husband who has recently suffered a stroke. No one asked her to declare which candidate she supported. They only asked “What time?”
Several days ago while I was out for a walk, wearing headphones and immersed in a podcast, I noticed quite a bit of traffic around me—cars, golf carts, bicycles, other walkers—and some folks were calling out a name. The scenario was all too familiar to me. I stopped someone and asked if a dog had gone missing. One had, a small brown chihuahua named Isabella. In the high winds we’ve been having, a gate had blown open, and “Bella” had made a run for it. When the owner asked for help on Facebook, 50 people responded within the first two hours. I read all the comments. Not a one asked what her political affiliation is or who she’d be voting for. People just jumped outside and began driving/walking/riding through the park, calling for Bella as they searched everywhere.
This is why I love this community, and I like to think of it as a microcosm of our little town, which is a microcosm of our state, which is a microcosm of our country. For various reasons and due to various experiences in life, we all believe what we believe, but overall, our humanity remains the same; when there is a crisis, when someone calls out for help, most of us will respond without thinking. We are good that way, and I cherish that goodness.
To be honest, I’m looking forward to the day when we can all take our signs down. I know we’re a long way off from feeling “normal” in any way, but I would love to get back to seeing houses decorated just for the holidays, rather than promoting this guy or that guy.
When I was teaching high school, I loved showing my freshmen Franco Zeffirelli’s epic film, Romeo & Juliet after we’d read the play. It gave me a chance to point out to them how subtle a filmmaker can be in providing clues for his audience in regard to what we should be feeling or learning. A background score is one way. Another way is costuming. Have you seen the movie? Did you notice? For the first half of the film, Romeo is always in blue and Juliet is always in crimson. When they appear in the chapel to be wed by Friar Lawrence, however, both are dressed in subtle shades of purple. Why?
Because, as my artistic students used to immediately explain, mix red and blue together, and you get purple.
This
is what I’m hoping for after election day. Maybe the red and the blue don’t
have to diminish as much as I would love to see them combine to create a bit
more purple.
We are more alike than we are different. Let’s champion that with a few signs.
