Won't You Be My Neighbor

This post isn't about aging or politics, although it will touch on them. But this past week in particular, but not exclusively, I've been thinking a lot about the word "neighbor" and wondering how we can regain a sense of neighborhood because the last three presidential election cycles have stretched it to the breaking point. It may have started before that. Perhaps the foundations began to break down in 2008 when Barack Obama took the stage in Chicago the night of the election when half of us were elated and hopeful but unaware that we had just created a situation where a large portion of the population suddenly felt unseen. Maybe it started the day Sarah Palin first took the spotlight and began to stir the pot of division. Whenever it began or whatever the opening salvo was, it is out of hand now. 

For readers joining from other areas, Pittsburgh proper generally votes blue, but I live in Shaler, a working middle-class suburb primarily populated by an older population mixed with many Catholic Joe the Plumber types who tend to vote more conservatively. As the older crowd passes on, some more liberal families—even families of color and same-sex couples have moved in, and the political landscape has become mixed. That never posed a problem that I saw when I first moved in.  I am liberal (in case you didn't know). It didn't take people long to figure that out, but it never ever stopped my original neighbors from being friendly with me, nor I with them. That's the way it's supposed to be, right? You think one way, I think another. Still, at our core, we both love the country and whoever's party was in power at the time wasn't causing us to worry that the government was on the verge of collapse - we just worried that our political agendas weren't being pressed forward. Still, we made our voices heard at the ballot box and knew that when it comes to party power, the pendulum swings, and what is now will not always be.  When socializing, we followed the rule my Pennsylvania-born and raised dad used to caution me, "Don't discuss religion or politics," especially when it came to the most significant issues that divide us: abortion front and center on that stage.

We put up signs during the campaigns (Yinzers love to decorate) but took them down soon after the elections.  I know I felt it was important not to rub anyone else's nose in it when my candidate won, and down they went the next day. 

Then came the Tea Party. A couple of households in the area sported Don't Tread on Me Flags (they still do) year-round. And, despite my best intentions, I have strong feelings about Tea Party members. I have a different phrase for them. I won't repeat it here...yeah, I'm no saint.  Then came 2016. You don't need me to rehash the last eight years - you've lived it.  That is when the hate "the other side" has for me became almost a palatable sensation, and I started to think of them as "the other side." And for my part, I feel a mix of dislike, distrust, and, in some cases, fear about the people now referred to as MAGA. I definitely hate what they support. Some households put up Trump signs and flags during the 2016 campaign and never took them down again. We were taunted by passersby as "liberals" like it's a dirty word.  Conservatives started to communicate that they were patriots, and those of us who disagree are less so.  It's gotten more and more abrasive with each election cycle, and now, candidly, emboldened by their win, the hard-line MAGA crowd is ramping it up to a frightening degree.

But there are no clean hands: I have to confess I tend to think of MAGA's in a negative light. I have a less-than-polite nickname for the red hat wearers.  Of course, they're not helping to redeem their image in my eyes when this is what some are out there posting publically:

But that worrisome woman isn't indicative of all of them, and I know that. Many people voted for Trump because they honestly felt he would be the best option for the country. They do not hate me for disagreeing with that. And I was heartened to see that many of my neighbors took their Trump signs down on Wednesday, probably accepting that many of us were hurting following a tight election that did not go as we hoped so it was unnecessary and wrong to gloat. But not everyone. One family in particular doubled down. I have little doubt they feel like Ms. Republic up there. I used to try to stay civil with them as I walked past their house with Carly. But I can't do it now. I simply cannot bring myself to do it. They do not try and wave at me any longer either. I would not be surprised in the least if they'd gladly tase me if given half a chance. And because there is that kind of vitriol out in the world right now, we find ourselves hopelessly divided.

Yet at the end of the day, we're all still Americans. For Trump supporters, allow me to say this: believe it or not, I do not love this country less than you do. On the contrary, many of us who vote Democrat believe strongly we vote for the well-being of all people. I disagree with you about what that means, but I am devoutly sincere in my intent to try and do what I can to make this the country my father went to war to defend.  I will accept you feel the same way but that you disagree fundamentally with me on how to do that, even if I cannot accept the candidate you backed. 

So, how do we get back to being neighbors? How do we return to those light-hearted conversations about the Steelers or the Penguins, or complain jointly about the Pirates? How do we get back to helping one another look for lost dogs, or shoveling one another's driveways if one of us is sick or injured? How do we get back to the moral lesson our most famous citizen, Mr. Rogers, said to us, "Listening is where love begins: listening to ourselves and then to our neighbors." I will commit to listening if you will do the same. Maybe we can find some common ground because we will need one another over these next four years.