You Go, Then I’ll Go

November 2, 2010

The rally stage.

To express our gratitude for life and liberty, and as a way to pursue happiness, my family and I attended The Rally to Restore Sanity on the National Mall on October 30, 2010.

Our daughter.

We’re glad we were there. And although I found the experience to be more philosophical than political (see photos of signs at the end of this post to understand why), I can think of no better thing to send out into the blogosphere today—Election Day, 2010—than Jon Stewart’s closing speech. Please read it, from beginning to end, and tell me if you don’t agree that it should be required reading for all residents of the United States of America.

Jon Stewart on the Jumbotron.

I can’t control what people think this was. I can only tell you my intentions. This was not a rally to ridicule people of faith. Or people of activism or to look down our noses at the heartland or passionate argument or to suggest that times are not difficult and that we have nothing to fear. They are and we do. But we live now in hard times, not end times. And we can have animus and not be enemies.

Unfortunately, one of our main tools in delineating the two broke. The country’s 24-hour politico pundit panic conflict-onator did not cause our problems, but its existence makes solving them that much harder. The press can hold its magnifying glass up to our problems and illuminate problems heretofore unseen, or it can use its magnifying glass to light ants on fire, and then perhaps host a week of shows on the sudden, unexpected dangerous-flaming-ant epidemic. If we amplify everything, we hear nothing.

There are terrorists and racists and Stalinists and theocrats, but those are titles that must be earned. You must have the resume. Not being able to distinguish between real racists and tea partiers, or real bigots and Juan Williams and Rick Sanchez is an insult—not only to those people, but to the racists themselves, who have put forth the exhausting effort it takes to hate. Just as the inability to distinguish between terrorists and Muslims makes us less safe, not more.

The press is our immune system. If it overreacts to everything we eventually get sicker. And perhaps eczema. Yet, with that being said, I feel good. Strangely, calmly good, because the image of Americans that is reflected back to us by our political and media process is false. It is us through a funhouse mirror, and not the good kind that makes you slim and taller—but the kind where you have a giant forehead and an ass like a pumpkin and one eyeball.

So, why would we work together?  Why would you reach across the aisle to a pumpkin-assed forehead eyeball monster?  If the picture of us were true, our inability to solve problems would actually be quite sane and reasonable.  Why would you work with Marxists actively subverting our Constitution or racists and homophobes who see no one’s humanity but their own?  We hear every damn day about how fragile our country is—on the brink of catastrophe—torn by polarizing hate and how it’s a shame that we can’t work together to get things done, but the truth is we do.  We work together to get things done every damn day. The only place we don’t is here or on cable TV. Americans don’t live here or on cable TV. Where we live our values and principles form the foundation that sustains us while we get things done, not the barriers that prevent us from getting things done.

Most Americans don’t live their lives solely as Democrats or Republicans or conservatives or liberals. Most Americans live their lives that our just a little bit late for something they have to do. Often it’s something they do not want to do, but they do it. Impossible things get done every day that are only made possible by the little, reasonable compromises.”

Stewart then plays a clip of cars merging before entering the Lincoln Tunnel in New Jersey

“These cars—that’s a school teacher who thinks taxes are too high . . . there’s a mom with two kids who can’t think about anything else . . . another car, the lady’s in the NRA. She loves Oprah . . . An investment banker, gay, also likes Oprah . . . a Latino carpenter . . . a fundamentalist vacuum salesman . . . a Mormon Jay Z fan . . . But this is us. Every one of the cars that you see is filled with individuals of strong belief and principles they hold dear—often principles and beliefs in direct opposition to their fellow travelers.

And yet these millions of cars must somehow find a way to squeeze one by one into a mile-long, 30-foot wide tunnel carved underneath a mighty river . . . And they do it. Concession by concession. You go. Then I’ll go. You go, then I’ll go. You go, then I’ll go—oh my god, is that an NRA sticker on your car, an Obama sticker on your car? Well, that’s OK. You go and then I’ll go—Sure, at some point there will be a selfish jerk who zips up the shoulder and cuts in at the last minute. But that individual is rare and he is scorned, and he is not hired as an analyst.

Because we know instinctively as a people that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light we have to work together and the truth is, there will always be darkness.  And sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t the promised land. Sometimes it’s just New Jersey.  But we do it anyway, together.If you want to know why I’m here and what I want from you I can only assure you this: you have already given it to me.  You’re presence was what I wanted.  Sanity will always be and has always been in the eye of the beholder.  To see you here today and the kind of people that you are has restored mine.  Thank you.

I went to the rally thinking I wasn’t guilty of demonizing those whose political opinions I disagree with, but while there I realized  that I have given some fellow Americans some degree of enemy status. Mantras work well for me when I want to change a bad habit, so my new mantra is “You go, then I’ll go.”

To my friend who likes the Tea Party, I’ll say, “You go, then I’ll go.” You explain your position to me, and I’ll explain mine to you. Even if we can’t find common ground politically, we still have over thirty years of common ground in other areas. To my relative who disapproves of health care reform, I’ll say “You go, then I’ll go.” I can understand why this reform makes you uncomfortable. Let’s talk more about it.

I remember working on group projects in high school. There was usually someone in the group who had a ridiculous idea, and someone who wanted to run the show, and someone who wound up doing a majority of the work without receiving credit or thanks. But, somehow, everybody got handled, and the project got done. How I’d love to see that happen in the Senate. And whatever is happening or does happen in the Senate from this day forward, I want to focus on solutions—and I want the media to do the same.

My thanks to Jon Stewart and company for an enlightening, enjoyable day, during which I laughed (a lot) and cried (a little) and proved that a human being can go eight hours without sitting down once. Everyone we encountered—on the Metro, on the Mall, and on the port-a-potty line—was cheerful, kind, and reasonable. It was like being in a perfect USA for a day. With Cat Stevens/Yusef. (That’s the part that made me cry.)


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