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When I was a teenager, my father and I used to have screaming matches about the Vietnam War.  I couldn’t imagine how he could not see the injustice in it and how he could not find every aspect of the war abhorrent.

Years later, I realized that he probably was ignoring the truth of it, because he couldn’t believe that leaders of the Democratic Party would lie to him.  I think it hurt him profoundly to think that I and everyone of my generation were questioning his generation and the president who represented his party.

And it’s only in recent years that I see that I failed to acknowledge the fundamental changes LBJ made domestically, because I was so fixated on that war.

So today, I’m relating to my father in a way I haven’t before.

I can’t help but take it personally that my Democratic Party is being so questioned and so maligned by people with whom I agree on almost every issue.

But I feel compelled to stand up for the party — and for the Clintons — and cop to the fact that it was my generation that led to this impasse.

In the 60s and 70s, we drove change.  When you read the opinion polls between 1965 and 1975, you see that the whole country’s opinions moved dramatically to the left —  about civil rights; about women’s rights; about sex; and pot; and about religion.

Then, the 80s saw a reaction to this, allowing Ronald Reagan to consolidate the religious right, sweep into office and, most importantly, take charge of the dialogue in this country about government, morality and economics.

(For some interesting statistics about this period  — and all sorts of other great insights, read American Grace, by  Robert Putnam and David Campbell.)

Since that time, the D’s have failed to take control of the dialogue.  Or maybe the party never controlled it — maybe it was just us loud baby boomers.  But in any event, it’s been the R’s, and more recently, the bloviators like Limbaugh and O’Reilly, who have chosen the topics and spun the perceptions.

So in 1992, it fell to Bill Clinton to present a package to the American people that was appealing enough; moderate and nonthreatening enough that he could actually get elected.  In that way, he was able to stop what seemed an unstoppable move toward the right and reverse some of the most damaging economic policies since the Great Depression.

The Clintons also pushed, if unsuccessfully, a number of issues that have only come to fruition in the last eight years. And Clinton has been called one of the best environmental presidents in recent history.

Still, the Clintons, as symbols of the Democratic Party, aren’t where we expected we’d be when we looked ahead from 1970.

I’m willing to take responsibility.  I wasn’t always paying attention. While I always voted, and voted for ethical, value-driven and caring people in Oregon, that probably wasn’t enough.  It was up to us first to come up with a way to fully connect with the bulk of the voters, and two, to make sure that our presidents always had a Congress that would at least work with them, if not support them.

In short, it was up to us to gain control of the dialogue.  “It’s the economy, stupid,” while effective, was hardly a rallying cry for peace and justice.

In the years since Clinton was elected, the Republicans have consolidated their hold on Congress, and the media have bifurcated into us and them. And sometimes it seems like the best the Democrats can do is to hold on to what we’ve achieved.

And maybe, the populist wake-up call represented by both Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump is enough to shake us all up.  But I don’t think boycotting the election if Sanders isn’t nominated is the right approach.

And I also don’t think that questioning the integrity of everyone who has been at the center of the governing process is useful. Nor is it either wise, practical or right to accuse anyone supporting Hillary Clinton of selling out.  (I mean, really, Al Franken is selling out?)

Instead, I think we have to refocus on what can eventually lead to Sanders’ vision for America — one that is, in fact, shared by a majority of the Democratic party, both serving in office and voting at home.

Some thoughts?

• Contribute to groups like Emily’s List or the Committee for a Livable Future, which single out Congressional candidates around the country who agree with your values and have a good chance of winning in a contested race;
• Pay attention to the voting rights infractions, redistricting debates and other issues that disenfranchise Americans and affect the future of Congress;
• Keep pushing the discussion on the issues that are meaningful; and
• Stick together.

 

 

 

 

I have a left coast/right coast friendship with a person I met on a banjo excursion.

(Have I lost you already?)

Mike and I are pretty far apart on the political spectrum. We’ve taken to egging each other on in long emails about stuff like guns, politicians and whether or not Paul Krugman is worth reading. (Sometimes I feel about Paul Krugman the way I felt about George Harrison when I was 13.)

I always learn something from Mike, and he gives me insights into the way conservatives and libertarians think about things. He also helps me see the gap between our information sources and how they shade our understanding of the world.

Mike’s son has told Mike several times that he admires the fact that we can have civil conversations about this stuff without getting snarky and rude.

Yikes!

So apparently, the norm is not to listen, question, discuss and respect.  Adam, a bright college student, has grown up in a time where snarkiness is the best one can expect and all-out hostility and wash-your-mouth-out-with-soap words are acceptable in a conversation about reason and values.

I was getting used to being called a liar (someone who I didn’t know once called me a liberal liar by name in what he thought was a private Facebook message), or being lumped together as one of those “lefty liars.”

I have bristled at being included as one of “those idiots” who support a left-leaning position.

Honestly — and apparently mea culpa — I associated this kind of social media language with the Limbaugh-inspired right wing fringe.

Until this campaign season.

My friend Ivan recently posted that he was tired of Clinton supporters calling Bern Feelers idiots if they chose not to vote for Clinton in the general election.

I am cringing at some of the language aimed at the Hillary side, as well as Clinton herself, by some Sanders supporters. (I’m not opposed to liberal use of F-bombs, but I don’t like them when used to describe my political leanings.)

And let me take this opportunity to rant about any use of “tard,” which I have seen used by folks on both sides of the aisle. Really, people, have you not progressed from when we were eight years old and called each other. . . well, I can’t even say what the favorite third-grade insult was.  Have we not learned anything about humanity?

This has got to be one of the most offensive words ever used in a political discussion — worse than nigger, bitch, you name it.

I had the hubris to believe that Democrats were the thoughtful party of respectful people. I am so sad to acknowledge I had it wrong. Crassness knows no party lines.

In a conversation, it’s great to have one’s perceptions challenged. It’s important to receive new information and be introduced to new ways of thinking.

But when my integrity or my character is challenged, the conversation ends for me. For many others, I’m sure.

As I’ve said repeatedly in recent weeks, this is a heart-breaking time in our political history.

It’s true that Donald Trump is encouraging violence in many ways.

But violently hateful language — even the words that we use among so-called friends — can be more enduring and more dangerous.

I am resisting the temptation to hide under the bed for the next nine months. It could be a lot worse  by the time I emerge.

 

 

 

Last fall, I listened to a spokesperson for the U.S. Forest Service talk about the intensity of the 2015 fire season. She referred to the number of resources available for fighting fires and how many more were needed to control last year’s forest fires.

Eventually  I realized that she was simply talking about people. She wasn’t talking about helicopters or trucks or flame suppressant. She was just talking about young men and women who fight fires.

I remember in the past working on new projects for a corporation. One of the big considerations was “resources.”

But again, what they were really talking about was people. How many people is it going to take to get the job done? Are people currently available to work on the project or to complete the work once the planning is done? Are they already committed to other programs?

This all got me thinking about how organizations talk to employees. How does it feel to be considered a “resource”?  On the one hand, it’s good to know that you’re valued and seen as something that contributes to the success of a program or project. On the other hand, how does it feel to be lumped into the same class as a laptop or a Kubota?

Bureaucratese can be boring. It can be imprecise. It can be awkward. But the worst thing it should ever be is impersonal. Whether the language is directed to front line employees or is exchanged in meetings between managers and officers, it’s important to be respectful of the time, skills and lives of those who get most of the work done. Every word counts.

As are all employees, forest firefighters are much more than resources.They are healthy, brave people who put their lives at risk.

 

 

 

 

This morning I asked my friend Matt if I’d ever mentioned how irritating I find the phrase “friendly reminder.”

He immediately said, “It sounds kind of passive aggressive.”

Yes! Bingo! Drum roll, and all that stuff!

When I see something that says, “friendly reminder,” I question why it would be anything other than friendly. Am I accustomed to getting snarky, mean-spirited or angry reminders from this source?

Have I been somehow remiss and deserving of a nasty note (Your library book is overdue! Or, you forgot to pick up your kid at daycare!  Or, you missed your first payment on the billion dollar loan I made to you.)?

I have often imagined the scene behind this communication.

A boss will say, “Make sure you send a friendly reminder to everyone to return their forms to HR by Friday.”  And the responsible person, wanting to do what is expected of her, sends out a notice titled “friendly reminder.”

C’mon!  Just do it in a non-snarky way. Don’t tell us you’re being friendly.  How about just crafting something polite and to the point, “Please return your blah-de-blah forms to HR by Friday so that we can make sure you’re properly enrolled in time for the new year.”

Or: “We look forward to seeing you at your dental appointment on Monday. Be sure to let us know if you need to change your appointment for any reason.”

Otherwise, it sounds like you’re saying, “I’m telling you this is a friendly reminder, but I really am terribly angry and don’t have the slightest bit of confidence that you will remember to do what you’ve committed to do.”

I don’t think friendly reminders are intended to make me grumpy. So skip the label and just be direct.  I will feel infinitely more friendly toward you.

 

 

A few days after the tragic September 11 events, two of my friends had lunch together.

One stated how angry he was. The other said, “You know, sometimes anger just covers up sadness.”

I think I’m finally so tired of being angry about politics that all I feel now is the sadness.

Like the amazing Sheriff Dave Ward of Harney County who let us see his breaking heart several times during the Malheur County episode, I’m sad, and I, too, want to ask the question, “How did we get to this point?”

How did we get to a place where significant numbers of Americans don’t trust the government in any way — to the point that they feel justified in taking up arms against that very government?

How have we lost all respect for each other, so that both in person and in the media we can use the crassest, most offensive language in the guise of trying to change each others’ opinions?

How is it that we don’t value the voting process above every other aspect of government and that we don’t appreciate how amazingly well this precious democracy has worked for more than two decades?

When did it become impossible to disagree with civility, rather than dislike, distrust and disrespect?

The incident at Malheur clarified for me how much I value our processes, and I surprised myself at the waves of pride I felt for our democratic legacy.  And I suddenly felt shocked that not everyone here appreciates the beautiful and fragile nature of this system.

To those who say that our government has become tyrannical, I ask in what form? Is there any doubt that we are a safe, healthy and productive population with possibly more freedom than any place in the world?

Could you imagine any other government that would have taken such pains to try to find a peaceful and civil resolution to the Malheur standoff?

How did we get to this place, then, where we can barely speak to each other civilly, and where there are those who hate not only the government, but who disparage those with the courage to run for public office?

I often feel that there are parallel universes. I listen to President Obama, and I hear a reasoned, controlled, intelligent voice of a man who is trying to do his best. My friends Mark and Mason listen, and they hear a despot with some nefarious agenda.  How can this happen?

In this, my 65th year, I am filled with patriotism so great that I could burst.  At the same time, I don’t know how to help us heal so that we once again are one nation, indivisible.

I just know that the anger no longer feels good, and I’ll have to learn to live with the sadness.