Don’t put pussy willows up your nose.
Don’t put your elbows on the table.
Don’t chew with your mouth open.
…and other things our mothers told us NOT to do.
It almost goes without saying that unless you’re sure the person you’re talking to voted the same way you did in our recent election, do NOT talk about it. Don’t go there. Bad idea. Our mothers would be the first to tell us so.
Well, I’d like to suggest that we should do exactly that. That we indeed need to talk about it.
I… and others I know on both sides of the election … would very much like to know how and why we made our decisions. We musn’t think less of one another, regardless of how we voted. To the contrary.
IF, and it’s a big IF, we can, as friends with differing opinions, hurdle the divisiveness and ugliness of the past two years, it surely would be a good thing.
I, personally, need to understand those differences if I’m going to continue to feel a part of this town, state, country. If I don’t, life will be emptier. And scarier.
I’m always the one to giggle at funerals, say the wrong thing, ask the wrong question. That will do nothing but get worse if I feel throttled and unable to say what I think and feel. Especially when it comes to our lives and hopes. And those of our children and theirs.
Perhaps the time isn’t right. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe there’s still a fragility in the air. Too much raw emotion. But if not now, when? Who decides that? Maybe I’m ready for a conversation but no one else is. When will that be? How will we know?
I don’t expect total agreement on this. I’m simply suggesting that our door is open. And I’d like to think that our minds are, too. The goal is pretty important. If not critical.
As Joan Rivers used to say, “Can we talk?”