Happy New Year—’tis the time for evaluation and resolution.
I can only evaluate by what I miss. I miss the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Who decided that all children get a trophy just for showing up? Admirable to level the playing field, who decided to level the outcome? I want to catch up with that person and ask: What lesson for later life was that meant to teach?
There are things I miss that have been discontinued: appliances with 30-year guarantees, frosted lipstick, Windows 7, and principled politicians—the ones who see themselves as public servants not power brokers.
I miss penny candy, a good joke, and common decency. I miss Walter Cronkite, Chet Huntley, David Brinkley, and Roger Mudd—on-air reporters who asked a question because they were seeking an answer not couching opinion in an interrogatory. I miss old definitions—generosity is the trait of good people not suckers. I miss the old definition of the American dream. You know, the one where a benevolent government is creating opportunity—so any boy or girl can grow up to be president. When did we become a land of the entitled, who mistake possibility for promise? When did we become a land of martyrs and victims if they are not handed a title, a salary, a trophy for showing up?
I do not miss hula hoops and I will never miss the pettifogging. When did we become the bloated land of the perpetual petty problems writ large? When did we stop being soldiers and become spectators of proxy wars? When did we cease voting our current, best self-interest, and start voting for the life we believe we will someday have? You know, that life to which we are entitled. I miss the time before the American dream became a liability. Standing at death’s door, how did we lose the will to cut out the malignancy? I miss the generation that did not hesitate.
I made a New Year’s resolution. I resolved never to get involved in the culture wars, that is, no matter how strongly I held an opinion, never let it be an excuse to defile or defame my fellow Americans. I was concerned. I saw the country dividing—not just Americans taking sides, but Americans demonizing one another based on the side they took. I saw all those things we were taught not to do being routinely done. I was uneasy, so I resolved … that was 2017.
In the interim, the ground shifted. Facts were met with alternative facts. Any argument against their argument was deemed “unfair.” Any position other than their position was evil. Debate was victimization of their right to the absolute. The shocking was commonplace.
Therefore, I resolved. And yet … am I breaking the resolution now? Is describing the playing field an attack? Is defining the sides ad hominem “an argument based on the perceived failings of an adversary rather than on the merits of the case?”
Tell me, do we know anymore? When every attempt at interaction is met with accusation, how do we know? When every opponent falls down crying “victim” instead of standing their ground and explaining it, how do we know?
I miss words—properly used and correctly pronounced. Charles Dickens wrote for the serial magazines as did Anthony Trollope, and Fyodor Dostoevsky. Later they were paid by the installment; first, they were paid by the word. Dickens became adept at stinging adjectives:
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
In a 119-word sentence, Dickens states the theme of “A Tale of Two Cities.” He says what might have been said in 12 words: This is a story about dualities; good and evil battling one another. Yet no one faults him for the 107 extra words. How many of us were made to memorize the opening 119 words? What is the point?
Democracy was never a promise; it was a possibility. Not everyone gets a trophy. The battle for our way of life is not history; it is a daily obligation.
The duality is a constant. There will always be those uninterested in democracy. Those who wish to weaponize our rights and institutions for political and monetary gain. Those who are immune to disgrace and shame and will not cede. Those with a laser-focus on their own desires to the exception of ours. They will always be among us. It is our job to cast them out.
Democracy cannot be grafted on top of bad behavior; democracy comes from a people who value good behavior. Democracy is a form of government that punishes bad behavior and rewards good. Democracy is a government of a majority that agrees on the basics, facts, and values. However, duality is life and not everyone gets the trophy. We will win or we will lose—it will be the best of times or the worst, I was worried in 2017, now six years later, which has the superlative degree of comparison?
