Some years ago, I walked into a banquet hall to help a friend from another agency clean up after an event. I don’t remember what this event had been for, but it was ending in a banquet room that had been made smaller through the use of those heavy curtains that are dragged across a room to divide it. I came in and saw I was too early to start loading things into my friend’s car, so I leaned against the wall by the door. A big Native guy sitting at the first table to my right smiled at me and made some comment that made me laugh. He was one of the artists selling books and tapes at the event.
I said something back that made him laugh and we ended up talking for something like an hour. Every now and then, someone would come up to look at his books and tapes and talk with him. He would listen to them, smile and reply. You could see that these people enjoyed their conversations with him. While he and I talked, we learned that we had quite a bit in common. We ended up talking about personal things that I don’t talk about with strangers. But when I left we weren’t strangers. He and I had made a human connection. This wasn’t a life changing event for me, but it was one I enjoyed—that rare moment when we connect with another human being. We had listened to each other, questioned each other, and left each other a little richer for the exchange.
There’s a guy where I work that’s a real life teabagger and will tell you all about it if you ask. I’ve sat and drank a couple beers with him and found out what he’s all about. He’s got a couple young kids and is worried about their future. He’s become involved in politics because he is so worried and wants to ensure their future is better. We’ve had some good talks and reached some common ground. He doesn’t see the left as his enemy anymore. He now agrees with me that the problems in this country are greater than left and right. He’s actively involved with teabaggers and they listen to him. He’s a bright, articulate man and he’s willing to listen and exchange ideas.
Yesterday I read a diary that used terms like purists and elitists to describe those to the left of the diarist—along with some other negative terms. How does this derision of our allies help us to engage in a meaningful dialogue? How does this type of language help us to learn and grow as humans? Personally, I am here to learn from those with more knowledge than myself. When I see a diary like this, I either ignore it or leave snarky comments in it. I ignore diarists like this on other occasions for diarists from whom I can learn something.
When you call me a Liberal Purist I can’t take you seriously. When you ridicule me or my allies, in fact, I’m not listening.