One big small town
I have to say, watching not just this discussion about bitterness in small town America, but just watching the bitterness that animates much of the world, sadly, that I often feel, these days, like I live in one big giant small town.
I didn't grow up in a small town. I grew up in a mid-size city, Wichita, Kansas, but like many kids growing up everywhere, I wanted very desperately to grow up and get the hell out of dodge and get away from small-town attitudes.
I didn't do that. I actually went to college in my hometown. And had a fairly decent experience. In fact, one of my complaints about my university experience in a little university town like Lawrence, Kansas was that too many smart, liberal folks seemed to act like they knew more about the world than they did. Very similar to the complaint of Obama's critics, right now. I hated and still hate how intellectuals pretend like they have everything figured out, when there is no way on God's green earth that they or anyone could.
But what I definitely identified with, in my professors, was a desire to escape the narrowness and pettiness of not just small-town outlooks, but the outlooks of anyone and any community where fear of the big, bad world animated life more than understanding, thoughtfulness, and decency.
What most people, small-town or big-town, never seem to get figured out is that the big, bad world and all of its scary parts is a function not of the folks across the way, but of the fears and reactions of people just like you and me. Not small-town people. Not big-town people. Not religious people. Not areligious people. Not gun-owners. Not gun-control advocates. Not liberals. Not conservatives. Just people.
The "other" that everyone is so afraid of is their own goddamn shadow, much of the time. It's all of our own fears about ourselves and one another that suckers most of us, and it has only marginally to do with the stranger across the way.
And living in a world where everyone seems to be scared and pissed off and looking to fuck with one another, I sometimes get a little bitter having to put up with the irrational and stupid bullshit of everyone for whom fear and bitterness both shapes their outlook on the world and those who manipulate and exploit that fact for their own advantage and to validate their own fears and self-centered outlooks on the world.
And, like many kids growing up in small-town America and not-so-small-town America, I often dream of growing up and being able to leave this goddawful place for somewhere where the outlooks are a little broader, the people are a little friendlier, the conversation is a little more thoughtful, minds are a little more open, and things just work out a little bit better, as a consequence.
I live in Lawrence, Kansas, a little university town here in the Midwest and a little oasis of liberal-mindedness in this God-fearing state - I use that term broadly to mean people with more open minds more than people who vote Democratic, though this city is the one pretty reliable Democratic district in an otherwise red state; I am a life long liberal, now independent, who is leaning toward John McCain, at this point, but, as always, my mind is open on the matter - so you would think that I would have been happy having found this little liberal utopia of broad-minded fellowtravelers.
But a funny thing happened on the way to utopia. I figured out that the one thing that I had always wanted as a kid - to be surrounded by like-minded liberals and to remake the world in our own image - turned out not to be such a little utopia, at all.
Plenty of pettiness, suspicion, cynicism, bitterness, conspiracy theory, dreams dashed, dreams abandoned, and, yes, quite a bit of condescension, snottiness, intellectual snobbery, and otherwise boorish liberal-minded behavior in this otherwise open-minded, big-hearted town.
It is a bit much for me, often. Especially when I was in grad school. Some professors can be some of the most decent and thoughtful people you ever met. Some are just assholes who are too clever by half. I had enough of my fill of the latter and enough experience with a world where assholes came in all ideological flavors to know that liberal didn't mean to me, as an adult, what it had meant to me, as a kid.
As a kid, liberal meant people who were more compassionate, understanding, decent, thoughtful, openminded, loving people with outlooks that seemed to reassure me that the world was actually, generally, a pretty good place for all of its warts.
But as an adult, liberal often also meant scared, bullying, cynical, snotty, condescending, mean-spirited, at times, sadly - since compassion and understanding were always what had been the center of what it meant to be liberal, for me, when I was growing up - self-righteous, and, generally, too often just as shitty and sometimes shittier than the world that such folks spent so much time, often rightly, being critical of.
Not only that, but my experience in Lawrence and in Wichita, for that matter, and my experiences in Washington D.C., where I lived for a summer with a girlfriend while I was in grad school, and in Cancun, Mexico, where I taught English for a month in undergrad, and everywhere I've lived or travelled or read about, have all taught me that it really isn't some ideological or religious or otherwise homogeneity that makes life an interesting, thought-provoking, or decent place to live.
Progress doesn't come because all your neighbors are Democrats.
Progress is when we learn to appreciate the fact that we come at life from different experiences, with different outlooks, often, with different ideas, with a diversity of opinions and thinking, and when we learn to appreciate people as people, first, and not some collection of opinions that either we do or do not identify with. And progress is when people can genuinely learn to appreciate one another for those differences and not condescend them because we disagree or because we have the power or inclination to do so. Progress is not when we impose ourselves on our neighbors because we can, obviously, when we're not rationalizing different. Progress occurs as we learn to genuinely respect our neighbors and their differences and accept that all of us have choices to make with our lives and deserve respect for the choices that each of us have to make and the freedom to make them.
So, when people criticize Obama as being condescending to small-town America, it is strange for me. Obama looks small town, by my lights. The whole world looks small town, by my lights. That's not because I feel any contempt or condescension for the world. To the contrary, it's because I see a world that keeps running away from the very kind of understanding, thoughtfulness, compassion, decency, and other values that they all so desperately need if they are going to think bigger than their circumstances and solve, more decently and effectively, the problems they face.
Like a small town that feels left behind by big city change and big city attitudes, the whole world just seems stuck to me, most of the time. Stuck in their bitterness. Stuck in their fear. Stuck in their ignorance. Stuck in their hatefulness. Stuck in their self-pity. Stuck in their anger. Stuck in all kinds of feelings of helplessness and powerlessness that leaves them screaming out for more power, only to have it leaving them still feeling helpless and powerless no matter how aggressively rather than thoughtfully they deal with their problems.
That is and always has been the problems not just in small towns, but everywhere in the world. Big cities are sometimes a little quicker to change direction when they take a bad turn. Sometimes not.
But everyone seems a little slow, to me, to making the changes in the directions that are needed when their hearts are stuck in slow motion from all of the pain and disappointment that life perpetually has to offer to every generation and to all of us, no matter where we live.
I don't know why we get stuck like this, except that facing all that pain, which is the only way to let it go and start fresh, just seems too difficult a challenge for some people. The bitterness feels comfortable. So much so, that they begin to forget or try to ignore that it sits on their hearts.
And when some big Harvard Law School graduate comes along and tries to remind people of all of those sore feelings, it just makes everyone a little grouchy. And, for awhile, it leaves a lot of people wanting to hold onto all of that bitterness for fear that letting it go might be too painful for them to bear. Some pain is just meant to sit on your heart your whole life, they rationalize. Some disappointments or heartaches you just never forget, they tell themselves. Some bitter feelings you just have to avoid dealing with honestly. Some pain just never goes away, they reason, since it's probably too hard to try to make it go away anyway, they justify.
And so we stay stuck.
And I feel like just lighting out of town and trying to find some illusive big city or small university town where the minds are more open and the hearts are not full of so much pain and bitterness.
But, alas, we have only this world. Only this big small town.
And I'm left realizing that it is not the bitterness on the hearts of everyone else that is bothering me. It's the bitterness on my own heart that pains me. And it is that bitterness that is the one that needs my attention.
Some upstart young guy 2000 years ago talked with people about this very thing. How much easier it is to see the sin, the vulnerability, the weakness in others than it is to see the same in ourselves.
Sometimes this world seems like one long neverending loop of this principle in action. Better aphorism than approbation, I think. Better we learned the lesson than keep making the mistake, I keep thinking.
Maybe I should give some of this bitterness some of my attention.
