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Political orientation and the good will of strangers
From the book: Chum for Thought: Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters by David Satterlee
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Political orientation and the good will of strangers – A personal story
I got a lot of interesting reactions today, sitting with a
“Christie Vilsack for Congress” sign while about ten thousand bicycle-across-Iowa
folks peddled past my front yard in a small, rural town.
The term “RAGBRAI” stands for “[Des Moines] Register’s Great
Bicycle Ride Across Iowa.” This is not a competition. It’s just thousands of
people out for up to seven days in our insane summer heat, enjoying the
camaraderie of “the oldest, largest and longest bicycle touring event in the
world.” Christie Vilsack is Iowa’s former First Lady and a Democrat running for
the U.S. Congress in Iowa’s 4th district. She is opposing Republican
incumbent Steve King, an “outspoken conservative who is a nationwide favorite
of tea party activists.” My little town of Dayton, Iowa (population 837) is
half-way through today’s 84-mile segment.
Today was a microcosm of the liberal ideals of community,
fellowship, and social involvement. My 1880’s “workman’s Victorian” house was
right on the route, just after the downtown events that included food
concessions, a live band, and a dunking tank. As the bicyclists accelerated
down a 1-block incline and past me, in my wheelchair by the curb with a
political sign, I still had plenty of interactions.
Also, because my house fronts Main Street with a
shade-tree-packed double lot, dozens of riders at a time stopped to
take a break before heading down the long and hot road to Lehigh. My wife, Dianna, sent out a mostly-full pan of yesterday’s brownies. Everybody was so incredulous and thankful that she went back inside, cranked up her oven and made an additional five dozen large Snicker doodle cookies from scratch.
take a break before heading down the long and hot road to Lehigh. My wife, Dianna, sent out a mostly-full pan of yesterday’s brownies. Everybody was so incredulous and thankful that she went back inside, cranked up her oven and made an additional five dozen large Snicker doodle cookies from scratch.
On the street, most riders smiled and waved or added a “good
morning.” I figure I got a fair ration of exercise just sitting and waving
back. Until the worst of the afternoon sun started taking its toll, most of
these folks were having fun and were in an expansive and gregarious mood. You
can’t have much of a conversation, passing by at 12 miles per hour, but you can
share your good will and wave or call out a “good morning,” “hey,” “great hat,”
or “thank-you” as appropriate to the moment.
Only four people in the six hours I was out were negative.
It was nothing too strong – just an occasional “Obama is a socialist” or “I
hope she loses.” It seemed fair enough; I was actually expecting more. Maybe
this crowd was composed, more than usual, of people whose mommas had taught
them that “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
You got to where you could see the people who glanced at the sign, clenched
their jaw, and just starred sternly and unhappily ahead as they rolled by.
On the other hand, I got a LOT of approving finger-points,
thumb-ups, smiles, “thank-yous,” and bell rings. I used to have a bell on my
bike in the 1950s but this was unexpected at first. Two dings signal approval
and come with a big smile. I liked to respond with a big wave, a big smile, and
my own loud “thank-you.”
As the day wore on, there were even more thank-yous tossed
my way. The expressions seemed more general than political. Having just enjoyed
a church hospitality tent, a cold beer, and/or a dunk in a big water tank, the
riders seemed to be taking me as an unexpected final representative of the
city’s welcoming spirit as they headed out and onward. They seemed grateful to
have someone to let know that they had been treated well and that they
appreciated it.
I had a few short political conversations with the people
taking a break under my trees. I wanted to stay low-key and didn’t shout out
“Vote for Vilsack” or any such thing. Still, when you talk to someone in the
grass, the sign suggests an obvious topic.
While I was passing out the first batch of fresh cookies and
offering the last one on the pan, the fellow glanced at my sign and then asked,
“I’m a Republican. Is it still okay to take it?” I just smiled and let him in
on the secret, “Of course. Democrats believe that ‘we’re all in this together,’
that we’re all neighbors, and that we should all care about each other.” Maybe
I shouldn’t have rubbed it in so pointedly, but he took his cookie, rolled his
eyes, moaned a little, and told me to be sure to tell my wife that they were
really, really good.
When the next batch of cookies came out, I took up where I’d
left off. The next fellow under the tree, having had some time to think about
the situation, took his snicker doodle, turned to the first fellow and said,
“This is the kind of thing we’re thinking about when you call us socialists.”
As the day went on, the goodness of community just kept on
as well. And, I’m not just patting myself on the back for getting out the water
hose or fetching the kitchen trash can (which seemed to be particularly
appreciated). People helped each other change punctured inner tubes. Someone
made a detour to the first-aid station to get help for a stranger who had been
weakened by the heat. People were at ease getting to know each other, telling
stories, and exchanging ideas without getting cranky.
I’ve heard Christy Vilsack speak. She likes to tell a story
about a small town where she once lived. There was a well-used intersection
that didn’t have stop or yield signs in any direction. She appreciated that
neighbors just slowed down, took in the situation, and waved one or the other
on through. Like most stories, it holds meaning and recommends future behavior.
Such a story reflects on where her heart is and how she would govern.
I grieve for those who only care to look out for just
themselves and for those they see as part of a limited “us.” However, I take
heart on days like this, where so many people open an inclusive heart,
accepting that we are all neighbors worthy of respect, concern, and support.
What kind of candidate do you want representing you? What kind of
representative will you vote for?
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