We must embrace everyone who is willing to vote blue in 2022 or we won’t have any independence to celebrate next year
I saw this on Twitter and thought it encapsulated the way a lot of us are feeling on this holiday.
It’s hard to celebrate our country’s independence when the Supreme Court has been taking a sledgehammer to Americans’ right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Everyone knows that we’ve gotten off-track as a nation, although people may argue on when we jumped the rails: Was it when Trump was nominated? When Trump won the 2016 election? When Trump falsely claimed voter fraud? When Trump incited an insurrection at the Capitol?
Maybe you think Trump was the culmination of something that began much earlier. Should we go back to “weapons of mass destruction” or Reagan’s “trickle-down economics” to pinpoint the beginning of the end? Should we go all the way back to when European settlers first stole land from Native Americans or to when slave traders brought Africans against their will to this country?
I’m sure a compelling argument could be made for any of these examples, but assigning blame isn’t going to solve the problem at hand. We’re in a full-blown constitutional crisis and what happens in the next few months will literally determine whether we continue to live in a democratic country or one that is ruled by a minority faction of Christian, white-nationalist fascists.
So, where do we go from here?
Here’s another recent tweet that spoke to me:
My goal isn’t to thoroughly depress everyone on a holiday weekend. We can still reclaim our country, but it requires working together to ensure that Democrats win as many seats as possible in 2022, so they can pass the laws needed to help shore up our fundamental rights. And then we need a repeat victory in 2024, to make sure it sticks.
To succeed, we must:
Make sure we impress upon everyone we know how important it is to vote blue. We need to make sure friends, family and acquaintances understand HOW, WHEN and WHERE to do that.
Encourage everyone to double-check their voter registration status. (Even if they’ve lived in the same place and voted previously, many people—yes, even in Minnesota—are finding that their registrations are disappearing as various communities clean up their voter rolls. Don’t take it for granted that you’re good-to-go.)
Accept anyone who is willing to finally turn away from the GOP to join in the fight for democracy. Even if you personally dislike them, think they are hypocrites, want to say “I told you so,” etc., refrain from alienating those who finally want to do the right thing. Welcome them back from The Dark Side and reinforce their decision.
Let go of individual objectives and get behind whichever democratic candidate has the best chance of winning a given race. In some races, this may mean that dyed-in-the-wool liberals need to back a candidate who is more centrist, since we need conservatives and independents to help tip the scales in our favor. We can’t have another presidential election like 2016 where Bernie syphoned votes from Hillary, because we literally won’t be able to recover from it. (And if you think Hillary wasn’t liberal enough to earn your vote in 2016, then you’re REALLY not going to like a Trump or DeSantis “presidency” that continues into perpetuity.) At the same time, we need to make sure that those we elect understand what’s at stake and will vote accordingly (unlike Manchin and Sinema, for example).
This Independence Day, it’s imperative that we (the sane, ethical majority) work to eliminate the current, imminent threat facing us before we go back to our petty bickering about what’s a fair tax rate for the wealthy, whether student loans should be forgiven, and how to get inflation under control. There will be plenty of time for arguing those finer points of policy after we’ve secured our basic human rights, but to do so right now is akin to rearranging the proverbial deck chairs on the Titanic.
Those seeking power in the GOP have demonstrated a complete disregard for democracy, so it’s going to take all of us—working together—to ensure that we still have a free nation to celebrate next year and for many years to come.
On Friday, as I was anxiously counting down the final moments of this dismal year, I got the news from my husband that Betty White had died. “Really?!” I asked, while already fully believing it was true… After all, I was well aware that people were looking forward to her 100th birthday in a couple of weeks, and it’s really not a stretch to wrap your head around a 99-year-old dying rather suddenly.
My next thought was, “Well, that’s just apropos for 2021. Another good and positive force in the universe…dead.”
The previous day, I had been visiting another Betty—my 94-year-old mother—in her memory care unit, where she’s been since the pandemic first started. (Her memory had been waning for a period of time before we were able to forcibly move her from her assisted living apartment to memory care in 2020. I can’t tell you how lucky we were to get her into a care unit immediately prior to everything locking down.)
On the day I visited Betty G. (aka Mom), her dementia had her very confused and weepy. Her younger sister (her only sibling) had died a couple of weeks earlier, and she remembered that loss and was feeling it acutely. Since my dad died in 2017, she’s lost numerous other loved ones of her generation, and the few that remain are mostly incapacitated in memory care units and nursing homes, unable to visit with an old friend who would greatly benefit from it.
As my mom sobbed on my shoulder, I hugged her and told her that she was okay. I told her she was safe and cared for in her apartment and that even if she didn’t remember our visits, we were visiting her regularly. I reminded her that she had spent Christmas Eve with me and my family and Christmas Day with my brother and that we would continue to see her and take care of her. Over and over, she thanked me for being a good daughter and told me how much she loves me.
This may not seem that remarkable, but it really is. If you’ve followed my family saga (and unfortunately anyone who has had to interact with me over the last 10 years has heard versions of it), you’d know that we’ve gone through hell and back with our aging parents. I first wrote about this here in 2013. As my dad’s dementia progressed, we wanted my parents to downsize and move from their house to an assisted living community where my mom would have help caring for my dad. She flat out refused. Over and over again. We tried hiring in-home care. She fired them. To say this put a strain on our relationship is an understatement. It felt like we were at war.
After numerous health emergencies, we finally had an intervention with my mother (and got a social worker to moderate the discussion). This is referred to in our family as the “Ill-Fated Meeting” or IFM for short. It ended with my mom basically telling us kids to all go to hell, that she regretting having us and didn’t care if she ever saw us again. I’m not exaggerating. She hit us. She spit at us. I had never seen anything like it. She more or less told us that we were irrelevant, that she valued her possessions more than her relationship with her children, she didn’t care about the impact her behavior had on the rest of us, ad nauseam.
Afterward, in shock, my disowned siblings and I went to the local bar and consoled each other while dredging up the worst memories from our childhood. My mom had always been a very controlling person while raising us, and we all had our personal issues with her. For me, it was lack of support in me wanting to go to college and a very outdated view on women’s roles. Her only aspirations for me were to get married and have kids. She would have supported me becoming a “stewardess” for a short career before marriage (but only because she thought that was a glamorous occupation and was hoping for some travel benefits).
Anyone who knows me will laugh at the image of Stormy as a flight attendant (so much for the “friendly skies”). However, I was lucky compared to my older sibs who experienced an even more domineering parent. My sister can tell you about a Battle Royale that erupted over addressing envelopes, for example. By the time my younger brother and I were teens (numbers 8 & 9), my mother had nearly “given up” on child-rearing, so we had considerably more freedom than the older kids.
After the IFM, my dad’s health continued to deteriorate. With each hospitalization, we’d try to get the hospital to intervene and require that he be released to a care facility. They had a note in his medical record that my mom’s insistence on caring for my dad alone was bordering on “elder abuse,” but we were helpless to change it without going to court and claiming her incompetent. Finally, after a terrible 91st birthday in which my weakened father fell multiple times, we kids hired an ambulance to transport my dad to a nearby senior facility and had him admitted to hospice. We drove my mom over to be with him—with no intention of letting her return to their home.
This was in December of 2017. Dad went straight into hospice and we moved my mother—completely against her will—into an assisted living (AL) unit. We had given her a week’s notice to prepare, but she must not have believed we’d actually defy her because she didn’t pack a single thing. Since she refused to cooperate with us, we decided which of her belongings to move with her. (And believe me, deciding what items from to move from a three-bedroom house stuffed with 70 years of accumulation was no easy task). We didn’t move her car along with her. Having seen her vulnerability to scams and increasing confusion around how to use her computer, we didn’t let her have that either.
My mom was furious. She threatened to call the cops. She threatened to call a lawyer. We told her that there was nothing legally stopping her from moving herself back home, knowing that she didn’t have the mental wherewithal to pick up the phone and coordinate such a move. It was basically every senior’s worst nightmare of their children dictating their future, and we didn’t want it to be that way. We literally had no other options.
My dad was in hospice for two weeks before he died of congestive heart failure. My mother was devastated. They had been married for 70 years and had met as teenagers. My dad was a wonderful man. Her loss (and our loss) was profound.
For approximately two more years, my mom lived unhappily in her AL apartment. We would visit her, but the visits would often devolve into screaming matches with her insisting that she wanted to move back home. Her memories were completely distorted. She couldn’t recall any of my dad’s falls or hospitalizations, or her own hospitalizations for that matter. She didn’t recall the years of us begging her to choose a senior apartment, so we wouldn’t be forced into doing what we ultimately were forced to do. In that stage of her early dementia, her recollection was that she and my dad were doing just fine living on their own and were blissfully happy until her terrible children intervened with the intention of taking control and running off with all their stuff.
An aside on that: My parent were solidly middle class people raising nine children. They couldn’t afford to send any of us to college. They had no valuable possessions that we were waiting to get our hands on. Cleaning out the house was a painful process that took us over a year to complete because we were so disheartened and depressed about the situation. We each took a few items that were sentimental or useful (you can never have too much Corningware in my book), but if my mother knew how many truckloads of her valued possessions ended up at Goodwill or in a dumpster, she would have been appalled.
As my mother’s dementia continued to progress, we had to forcibly move her again into memory care (with more threatening to call the cops on us, etc.). Due to these experiences and the resulting strained relationship with her kids, half of my siblings don’t visit with her on a regular basis. Yet, she has no recollection of all this ill will and their negligence is breaking her heart.
Well, you’re probably thinking, this Betty story is depressing as hell. What’s Stormy’s point?
Here it is. We all get to choose which “Betty” we want to be.
Watching various tributes and retrospectives of Betty White’s life, a few themes emerged as to what made her so beloved. Granted, she had a phenomenally long and successful career, but that’s not why so many are celebrating her life. Instead, it’s because:
Betty White lived, right up until the point where she died. This is no small feat. My mom has mostly given up and is literally counting down the hours until her death. Although she has some crazy longevity in her family and triple-digits are not out of the question, I doubt she’ll make it another year simply because her will is gone.
Betty White kept a positive attitude. She had sorrow in her life, but chose to look on the bright side and embrace living while she could. My mother now tries to be pleasant and to take her situation in stride. She regularly tells me that she thinks she’s in a nice apartment and that the caregivers are very nice (which is a big improvement from earlier when she referred to it as “a fancy prison”). Unfortunately, it’s hard
Betty White had a great sense of humor. She wasn’t afraid to look silly or undignified if it could make someone laugh. She knew that humor isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity for coping with this ludicrous world. My parents both had good senses of humor (that comes with raising nine kids, I guess), and it makes me smile when my mom is able to crack a joke, despite her situation.
Betty White wasn’t afraid of the future, she was realistic about her aging and made necessary accommodations but continued to be curious and optimistic about the world. My mother was in denial about the fact that she and my dad were aging and couldn’t continue to do the things they had always been able to do on their own. She thought her kids were out to get her for suggesting that they prepare for their old age. It’s not uncommon for older people to look with confusion and disdain on new technology and changing attitudes and think “the world is going to hell in a handbasket.” My mom is firmly in that camp and, as a consequence, is anxious to leave this world (the source of so much frustration and pain) behind.
Betty White was an advocate for those without a voice. Whether standing up to racism, embracing the LGBTQ community or tirelessly working for animal rights, she understood that the best way to endure the tragedies of this world is by working to eliminate injustice. My mother volunteered in many ways when her kids were young and has a strong sense of justice. I think her influence led to me wanting to adopt Blossom. Unfortunately, both she and my dad had an old-school view of retirement—it was all about playing golf and having fun. Later, her sense of purpose came from caring for my dad. However, that also caused her to withdraw from the world and left a huge void after his death.
Betty White made friends across all age groups and walks of life. Even after her husband and childhood friends were all gone, there were still plenty of people (and animals) to bring joy to her last few years. My parents gravitated toward a senior trailer park in Florida, where they hung out with their lifelong friends. They were away from the family for half of the year and never became that close with their many (30) grandchildren or great-grandchildren. My mom constantly grieves the losses of her childhood friends, parents, sister and my dad. She has only her children as companions and mourns the ones she doesn’t see regularly. It’s a sad existence, particularly at times like these when her senior community is experiencing a Coronavirus outbreak, and I’m not allowed to visit.
I have a habit of looking both backwards and ahead this time of year, and I want to end this blog on a more upbeat note. There’s a silver lining in this story, and that’s my personal relationship with my mom. For many years—about a decade—I was so stressed over the situation with my parents/mom and so exhausted from the fighting that I was secretly wishing it would end (and could only envision one possible ending). Yet I knew that my overwhelming feeling, upon learning of my mother’s death, would be one of relief. And that realization made me feel terrible.
Fortunately, as my mother’s dementia has progressed, she has reverted into the more nuanced person I knew growing up. She’s still not perfect, but she’s SO MUCH better (and nicer to me) than in the days of the Ill-Fated Meeting. (In fact, I may be the only child in this world who is actually grateful for her parent’s Alzheimer’s.) These days, she no longer accuses me of lying or gaslighting her when I recall something that she’s managed to block out or simply doesn’t remember. She’s incredibly thankful for my visits and tells me over and over how much she appreciates me and loves me. She now gives me hugs and kisses every time I see her. (I’ll confess that, as one of nine kids, I NEVER got as much parental affection or attention as I would have liked from my mother. It just wasn’t her style. My dad was the affectionate parent, which is part of why losing him was such a tremendous loss.)
What’s tragic, though, is that she often laments her plight—saying, “I never thought I’d end up this way.” This is ironic because we kids not only saw it coming (as though it were an out-of-control locomotive barreling down the tracks), but we TOLD her (multiple times!) this is what would happen if she didn’t work with us to make arrangements for later in life.
So the silver lining that I mentioned is this: Now, when my mother finally does pass away (and I’d be surprised if she makes it to another new year), I know my feelings will be different than five years ago. I think I’ll still feel some relief, and reassurance that she’s with my dad and no longer sad and frightened, but I know this: I will miss her as well.
Looking back on the last, most difficult, decade with her, I now have a different perspective. I believe my mom was under an enormous strain caring for my dad, but as part of the “Greatest Generation” was committed to taking it all on herself. I also believe she was seeing evidence of her own forgetfulness and was terrified about losing control. And she projected so much anger on us kids that I just couldn’t see past it. We should have done more to help her, despite her refusal and her protests. I actually wish we had forcibly moved them earlier than we did, so that she and my dad could have had additional care and some higher quality time together during their last few years of marriage.
In cleaning out my parents’ house and belongings, it also became apparent to me that my mom had some significant undiagnosed mental health issues her whole life (ADD/OCD/depression and who knows what else). Again, mental health wasn’t something people of her generation talked about. You were just expected to cope the best you could. Given these challenges, I think she really tried to do her best in raising us, even if we feel like she sometimes fell short. Raising nine competent kids is an incredible feat.
So, my hope with this New Year’s blog is to get you to think a little about your own future. Some of you may be nearing retirement, some of you are just starting to raise kids, some of you may have horrible relationships with your aging parents and feel alone in that. (I assure you, you’re not.) What do you want your future to look like?
I’ve inherited some of my worst traits from my mom. Like her, I can be very critical. Like her, I have a sharp tongue” and often say things I regret. But over the last few days I’ve been thinking a lot about which “Betty” I want to be, and I encourage you to do the same.
I will continue to love and honor Betty G. and make her last days as pleasant as I can. But for my own future, I’m choosing to be like Betty White.
On May 2, 2011, Oskar and I were watching TV when programming was disrupted by breaking news: Osama bin Laden had just been killed in a secret raid. I turned to Oskar and high-fived him (!) and then I was immediately ashamed. I had just high-fived my husband over a man being murdered—what was wrong with me?
Like all Americans, I had been devastated by the terrorist attacks on 9/11 and viewed Osama bin Laden as Public Enemy #1. My gut reaction to his death was a rather base reflex triggered by all of the anxiety he had caused me and my fellow citizens. As a Christian, I condemn evil in all its forms, but I also know that it’s not my job to condemn another human being (even if that human being does evil things) OR to celebrate their death. I was able to forgive myself for what I considered a very human reaction, and I prayed that in bin Laden’s final moments as the raid was occurring, he somehow recognized his sins and was able to make his peace with God.
History repeats itself
Fast-forward to last night: I read that Hope Hicks, a close aide of Trump’s, had tested positive for Covid-19. My immediate gut reaction was a mixture of excitement and hope, thinking: “Maybe he’ll get it and this nightmare will end!” Then again, as with the bin Laden incident, I felt ashamed.
This morning, I awoke to the news that my wish had come true when my sister texted me, “Is it wrong to say I hope he dies? Or at least gets very sick?” I responded, confessing that I had had a similar thought the previous night. Then I reflected on the whether it was morally justified to wish for some kind of karmic justice… After all, Trump is not an innocent victim of the coronavirus the way that millions of others have been. He has had top epidemiological experts advising him, access to the latest data/research, any precautionary equipment (tests, PPE) that he could possibly need, and a whole team of sycophants willing to cater to his every whim, and he has willfully chosen not to utilize any of these resources in a responsible manner. Furthermore, as a result of his negligence and his lies, 200,000 people have died.
So, my thinking is that if the virus is among us and someone is going to catch it—or even die from it—then there is a certain poetic justice in it being him. But, looking at the situation from my Christian perspective, I can’t “celebrate” that, in the same way that President Obama never celebrated the death of bin Laden, even though he was the one who ordered the raid. Instead, I will follow the lead of both Joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi who have exuded admirable class when they—honestly, I believe—express concern for those GOP members afflicted with the virus and pray for their recovery. Because that’s what decent human beings do in a civilized society. (Frankly, I’m not sure I would be able to display as much grace as they have, had I undergone the many personal attacks they’ve had to endure from Trump.)
Was I guilty of giving oxygen to hatred?
And that last sentence sums up my biggest issue with Trump. The thing that I hate most about him is that he has exposed my own hatred. I really loathe the man. I hate his policies, his greed and his racism, yes, but more than that, I hate the way that he makes a mockery of our democracy and plays Americans—even his most devoted followers—for absolute fools. And I hate the fact that he has done irreparable damage to my relationships with people who fail to denounce him. Because, by accepting (or even tolerating) his lies, his white supremacist ideology, his fascist dictator-like posturing, his condemning of the media, his threats of violence if the election doesn’t go his way—they have lost all of my respect. I can never look at them the same way or continue to have a social relationship with them.
And I hate myself for hating him so much. While I recognize that “hating the hater” is not the same as “being a hater” (after all, as we learned in math class the double negative cancels itself out) holding that kind of hatred in one’s heart is a poisonous proposition.
I realized earlier this week that I’ve been generally unhappy for a very long time. Yet when I examine my life, most things in it are going pretty well. I have a supportive spouse and family, I’m financially secure, I live in a comfortable home, have good health, etc. While I don’t like dealing with this pandemic any more than the next person, I’ll freely admit that it’s affected me much less dramatically than it has many people. In fact, I consider myself fortunate in many ways. So, it didn’t take me long to identify the source of my unhappiness: Trump. Or, perhaps more specifically, the hatred and chaos that he thrives upon and brings out in other people.
And then I had another realization: I have just one life and, for-better-or-worse, this is it. Yet each day I’ve been giving mindshare over to this horrible person who doesn’t deserve an ounce of my respect, let alone any of my waking thoughts. Consequently, I had been giving oxygen to the hatred that he thrives upon. Worse, I’d been letting him steal my happiness in the same way he’s been trying to steal the election. And then I got determined… I’ll be damned if I let him steal my joy!
Instead, I vowed to redirect my election anxiety into optimism and positivity. So, while I won’t wish a Darwinian death upon the cause of my unhappiness, what Ihope for—and will pray for—is that this experience does two things:
1) Wakes up the 1/3 of the population that thinks this virus is a “hoax,” “just like the flu,” or “will disappear” so that they start wearing their damn masks and stop undermining the rest of us who are trying to get this pandemic under control (so we can avoid further needless death and rebuild our economy), and
2) Gives 45 an excuse to bow out of the race (for health reasons). As a classic narcissist who is facing the near-certain humiliation of losing, this would allow him to save face. I don’t even care if he resigns while proclaiming that he has been the Greatest President of All Time. I just want him gone. Gone—so we can shore up our badly battered democracy, control the outbreak of this virus, begin to recover our economy, and provide basic human rights and justice for ALL Americans.
However, since we can’t be confident this will happen, we have to double-down on the original plan of making sure Biden is elected—and preferably by a landslide so as to minimize any post-election violence. My dream is to make this a reality:
If you have NOT yet voted, PLEASE DO SO. And vote EARLY, so there is time to straighten out any possible registration or postal issues. 2020 has been one for the history books. But we need to do our part if we’re to succeed in containing the chaos to just this one calendar year. If you have any questions about HOW to vote, WHERE to vote, how to register, etc., send us a message and we’ll help you determine a safe voting plan.
It’s nearly August and the Coronavirus continues to spread, largely unchecked, in America. Likewise, on social media, the mask debate rages on. (I bet other countries are surprised to learn that there even IS such a thing as a mask debate in this country. But that’s the topsy-turvy, Alice-in-Wonderland version of the US we’re living in, sadly, during this Trump administration.)
In 2015, I did a blog post on the topic of “Living Fearless” because that’s long been a motto that I try to live by. Which is why I get so annoyed by anti-maskers who believe that those of us advocating compliance with masking mandates are “living in fear.”
Basement dwellers and other myths
“I feel sorry for them, cowering in their basements…afraid to go out and live their lives,” they write…while congratulating each other for their bravery in “standing up for freedom.”
Let me just say: No, no and NO. This is not an accurate assessment of anyone I know who is an advocate of wearing masks.
Speaking for myself, I can assure you that I’m not living in fear of catching the Coronavirus. While COVID-19 cases range from asymptomatic to annoying to deadly, I believe that my catching it would be more likely to result in inconvenience than hospitalization. However, all of the evidence has shown that it’s quite contagious, can be transmitted unknowingly, and can have long-term and lethal consequences in some instances—particularly for people who aren’t as healthy as me. Therefore, I consider it a moral imperative that I take sensible precautions to protect others.
Let’s repeat them together:
Fear is not my motivation for these actions. But having a healthy respect for science and a willingness to be inconvenienced for the sake of other people? Guilty as charged. In other words, I plead guilty to being a considerate human being.
Let’s baaaaaaaaand together and beat this thing
Another annoying response to any online mask debate is the troll who will invariably respond with this gif:
Running a close second to the Haha emoji in its ubiquity, the implication is that those who follow these public health rules are sheep and not free-thinkers. Again…no.
Sure, a lot of respected leaders are asking people to wear masks. But do you know why? Because they work. And sometimes, knowledgeable people share their experience for the greater good—so others don’t have to learn the hard way. It doesn’t mean that the people who follow the lead of experts aren’t capable of making a decision on their own. It means they are exercising common sense. Take the old stick-your-tongue-on-a-frozen-flagpole gambit. You can ask 20 intelligent adults if this is a good idea and chances are not one of them will recommend it. So, are you a sheep if you follow their advice, or are you…maybe…just…wise?
(Spoiler Alert: Here’s how that would turn out for ya.)
I believe that what so many people are interpreting as fear or herd mentality is in fact exasperation and frustration. Most Americans were under a stay-at-home order from mid-March through the end of April and even longer. We collectively sacrificed our relationships with friends and family, our jobs, our children’s schooling, our ability to see our aging parents. We missed out on weddings, graduations and funerals. Lives were lost. Businesses were shuttered. It was a huge sacrifice, but we started to flatten the curve…and see the light at the end of the tunnel…
…But then we opened everything up much too quickly and in the span of a few weeks, erased most of the progress we had made.
Those who are advocating for the three common-sense measures (one more time for the guys in the back of the room)…
…are doing so, not because they are scared, but simply because they are tired of all this. They want to get on with their lives. They want to save our economy. They want the kids to be able to go back to school. And they want their friends, neighbors and relatives to lead long healthy lives. How to manage this pandemic is no mystery. Dozens and dozens of countries—even many third-world (or as Trump called them “shithole”) countries—have successfully handled it using the steps above.
In fact, people in those countries are somewhat confounded by the fact that America is doing so poorly when we have so much relative wealth compared to many of the countries that have beat this thing. They actually pity us for our poor leadership and our cut-off-our-nose-to-spite-our-face stubbornness.
So, to circle back to the theme of this blog, I ask you: Who is scared?
Is it the Frustrated, Exhausted Working Mom or Dad, juggling Zoom meetings and online classes, conscientiously limiting interactions with others, wearing a mask, and washing her hands?
Or is it the Don’t-Tread-On-Me Individualist defying public health recommendations and harassing shop owners who are trying to protect their employees and customers?
I contend that the true “Scaredy Cats” are the Don’t-Tread-On-Me Crowd. They are doubling-down on the mask issue because they are too scared to learn that all of their outrage and anger—at science, the media, and our liberal governors—has been misplaced. Too scared to discover that they’ve been contributed to the loss of lives and livelihoods for tens of thousands of innocent Americans.
If the latter group truly believes that this is all just a “plandemic,” and wants to refute my scaredy-cat claim, then let’s settle this debate with a Triple Dog Dare: There is a very easy way for you to prove yourselves right. Just follow the mandate for eight weeks and see what happens.
Many public health officials agree that with uniform compliance it would take only 6-8 weeks to turn things around. So let’s try it. If it doesn’t work and I’m proven wrong, I will be the first to admit it here. Go ahead, America, I dare you!
Have you ever known something but also not known it at the same time? That is, you intellectually know the facts around a subject, but emotionally or philosophically it takes you a while to connect the dots? I had that experience last week and when the realization hit me it was a revelation, so I thought I would pass it along to anyone else who might be struggling with this same issue.
Social Engineering via Social Media
I’ve had a love/hate relationship with social media since its inception. I have a very large family, as well as a network of friends and acquaintances that span the globe, so I love the ability to stay in touch via a simple and cheap communications tool. Cute baby photos, friends on vacation, funny memes from old classmates… that’s all lovely. I’ve also created group pages for my church, my condo association, and other families who have adopted from Blossom’s orphanage in China. I enjoy having a way to communicate with members of these various groups on topics of mutual interest. Lastly, as a marking professional, I also appreciate social media as an inexpensive advertising medium that lets you target specific audiences with ease.
However, what I HATE about social media is the way it turns seemingly rational human beings into abusive bullies and allows horrible people to connect with like-minded dirtbags who validate each other’s twisted views. And, when you add in Russian trolls and others who are actively and intentionally stirring up trouble in our country to divide the populace…well, let’s just say that checking one’s newsfeed becomes an exercise in blood pressure management.
Thankfully I have naturally low blood pressure, but the anger and vitriol spewed forth on Facebook have caused me to abandon my account several times in the past. I find it very difficult to not confront those spreading misinformation or abusive, racist statements, so I often find myself in a protracted online debate with someone whose mind I know will never be open to reason or facts. Yet despite this, I feel compelled to try. (Nevertheless, she persisted!) I feel that to leave these statements unchallenged is to appear to agree with them—the last thing I want.
These online conversations usually end with the other party giving me the “Haha” emoji (which I’ve concluded is the universal response for ignorant trolls who can’t think of any other way to counter a sensible argument). Invariably, these exchanges always leave me feeling drained, discouraged and, frankly, hopeless about the state of our country. At times it seems like the bad people far outnumber the decent people, which is a very depressing thought indeed.
And of course, that’s the point.
It was during one of these threads—about whether to mandate masks in our state—when a commenter posed a seemingly innocent question, “Who decides which comments are ‘most relevant’?” I believe they were noticing the default Facebook setting that displays relevant comments and implying that relevancy was determined by the “liberal elites” who manage our governor’s Facebook page. So, I ignored the implication and replied literally: “The Facebook algorithms.” This was followed by another baiting question, “But who designs those?” So I went into a high-level explanation of how the algorithms work. Now granted, algorithms are more complex than the explanation that follows, but I think it’s important for all Facebook users to understand the basics:
They’re in it for the money, honey…
Facebook is not free to use because Mark Zuckerberg is a philanthropist. The company makes money by selling ads to marketers (like me) to get them in front of potential customers (users like you). The beauty of the platform is it lets marketers target certain personality profiles and keywords based on information provided by the users—the groups you belong to, the pages you follow, the businesses or locations you “check-in” to, hashtags you use, things you post about, the comments you make on others posts, etc. The more specific the targeting, the more effective it is (and the more valuable it is for the advertiser).
If this strikes you as an invasion of privacy, you really shouldn’t be on Facebook. It exists to monetize your personal information. I know that and it doesn’t bother me. I don’t post truly private info, and if I’m going to be bombarded with ads online anyway, I would rather they be relevant.
Wallflowers need not apply
In order for Facebook to understand who you are, it needs you to engage. In other words, if you log on to Facebook and scroll through your feed, but never join a group, never like or comment, etc., Facebook has no real way to know who you are and subsequently can’t market effectively to you. (In other words, it won’t know what kind of ads to show you.) It’s the social equivalent of standing in the corner at a party.
Some people—KitKat for one—take this wallflower approach (ironically, in real life she is the first one on the dance floor). Because KitKat is also a marketer, she needs to understand Facebook, but she’s chosen to only observe on Facebook and never engages personally. Consequently, KitKat doesn’t stress out over social media the way I do. 😉
How to be relevant
Facebook wants and needs you to be an active participant in order to create the targeting data it needs to feed the algorithms. One way it does this is by trying to serve up the most interesting information, so you keep coming back for more. This is where the “Relevant Comments” come in. Although my troll friend wouldn’t believe it, there is no Democrat sitting in a Facebook cube that is marking every left-leaning comment as “relevant.” However, each time someone “likes” a comment, replies to a comment or tags the poster of a comment, it increases the relevance of that particular comment.
As I mentioned in the intro, I knew all of this already. But when I was explaining it to the online troll the understanding suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks: I had been making the problem worse!
Each time I replied to a negative comment or misinformation, I actually increased the relevance of that comment. In other words, I was directly contributing to the process that prompts the Facebook algorithms to deem a comment “relevant.” As a result, I was causing it to be shown to more people via their newsfeeds—which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to be doing.
If you’re an 80s kid, you might understand this analogy: “Feeding the trolls” is like feeding your Gremlins after midnight. It causes all hell to break loose.
But as the lightbulb went off in my brain, an even brighter realization occurred: I was overestimating the number of bad guys! There were far more “good guys,” but the nature of our collective interactions were giving the bad guys more visibility than they deserve! So, the question then became: Should I be addressing trolls at all? And if so, how? It turns out there’s an easy way to work around the relevancy algorithms and still fight for truth and democracy…
Never directly comment on a negative post. (I would make an exception for dangerous misinformation, but then only comment to discredit it—by linking to accurate information—not to start a debate.) If you see a negative comment on an otherwise positive or neutral thread (particularly if it’s a news source), don’t click on the angry face, sad face or the aforementioned “Haha” emoji. Also important: Don’t tag the person who made the negative comment so you are replying directly to them. All that will do is increase their comment’s relevance. Instead, click like/love on as many of the positive comments you can to increase their relevance and thereby drown out the negative voices.
Here’s a simple example:
Misinformation Marvin: Masks don’t prevent COVID-19. They increase transmission by 50%! Health experts agree!
Concerned Carly (clicks angry face on Marvin and tags him in reply): Misinformation Marvin, They actually DO help reduce the spread…Do you have a source for that statistic?
Having participated in conversations similar to the above, I can tell you that chances are Marvin’s next comment will cite a blog post by some obscure ex-professor who was fired from his teaching job for being a rabble rouser. Then, Carly will try to point out that it isn’t a credible source, and the exchange will go downhill from there until Marvin ultimately resorts to clicking on the “Haha” emoji.
A better approach…
Misinformation Marvin: Masks don’t prevent COVID-19. They increase transmission by 50%! Health experts agree!
Concerned Carly (does not click on Marvin’s comment or reply, but posts a new comment): I see that some people on here (like Marvin) are spreading misinformation; however, here’s a legitimate source that explains how masks actually DO help reduce the spread…[Links to reputable source]
As mentioned earlier, in addition to not commenting directly to Marvin, Carly should also click on every comment that supports her argument and/or cites credible sources. This will raise the relevance of those comments which, in turn, will increase the likelihood that they will show up in others’ feeds.
I call this approach “slaying Medusa” because the essence of it is to attack from the sidelines and not look directly into the eyes of the troll. It may be true that “eyes are the window to the soul.” But in the case of the typical troll, that soul is a black void—and you don’t want to view it directly, lest it turn your heart to stone. Commenting indirectly to trolls and reinforcing the positive posts directly is a simple way you can keep the focus of the conversation on fact-driven, compassionate, democracy-loving people and take the microphone away from those who are trying to damage our country and sew divisiveness.
By elevating the positive conversations and shining a light on true, factual information, we can inspire those who are on the fence about the next election to do the right thing for America. There are three critical months left before November 3rd. Let’s do everything we can to control the trolls—and particularly to get the “Troll in Chief”—out of office!
When the Coronavirus pandemic hit the US in full-force, KitKat and I—like others around the world—went into “stay-at-home” mode. With additional time on my hands, I figured “There’s a blog post in all this…” However, I couldn’t figure out what to write about. I know that, compared to a lot of other people dealing with this situation, I’m very, very fortunate. Because—in addition to those who are literally dying from this pandemic—there are many others who are living through incredibly stressful scenarios. To name a few:
Going to work each day in healthcare without adequate PPE.
Being stuck in their homes with an abusive partner.
Not being at the hospital bedside of a loved one struggling with COVID-19.
Providing “essential services” at close to minimum wage and putting oneself at risk.
Facing sudden unemployment with no emergency savings.
Trying to work while supervising school for small children in a too-small apartment.
Small business owners struggling to keep their business alive despite being deemed “non-essential.”
Having a compromised immune system and being terrified to go outside or get necessities.
Being homeless with no way to protect oneself from illness.
Living alone and facing incredible loneliness.
Not being able to visit one’s elderly parents for risk of infecting them.
Actually, the last one of these is the only one that applies to me, but that’s a story for later. KitKat is dealing with a couple of these challenges as well, but both of us are relatively lucky as far as these things go. After living in this Brave New World of Global Pandemic for a few weeks, however, a theme has emerged that I’d like to touch on. It’s about resiliency.
You’ve probably seen memes similar to this one:
The implication seems to be that today’s youth are a bunch of wussies** compared to previous generations—particularly compared to The Greatest Generation. It’s easy to see where this perception comes from when I think of some of the haircare-related memes and messages floating through my social media feed lately:
I can see the humor in these and have even “shared” a couple. However, the underlying message—Do NOT try to cut or color your hair yourself!—annoys me.
While I appreciate the skills of a good hairstylist as much as the next person, we’re not talking about doing brain surgery on yourself here. If you’re adhering to the mandate to stay at home and find you can no longer stand your gray roots, then by all means—use a box dye and color your own hair. The world will not come to an end. In fact, millions of people who can’t afford or aren’t willing to pay for in-salon color do this all the time. You can’t pick them out on the street and, as far as I know, nobody has died from it (but you might want to Google “hot roots” first). Same with cutting your own hair. Plenty of people do it. And if you don’t like the results, hair grows back. Once this pandemic is over, you may decide to continue with the DIY or you might appreciate your hairstylist even more. But either way, you’ll learn that you can survive a temporary salon shutdown—and isn’t that empowering?
I’m not using this example to pick on hairstylists. My point is: You can do whatever you need to do to get through this. Of course, you can! I believe that this generation is no less strong than the ones that came before us. We just haven’t had as many opportunities to exercise our resiliency.
Another example: Technology. I’m one of those people who can’t live without my smartphone. But you know what? I actually could if I had to. Heck, I lived successfully for 30 years without one. I know it can be done. And, while it’s certainly a nice-to-have when quarantined, it’s also possible to live without cable TV or online streaming. One of my favorite stories involves Lucky telling me how her friends in middle school pitied her because our family was ‘too poor to have cable.’ I informed her that we could easily afford cable (we had just taken the whole family on a not-inexpensive trip to China and Japan) but chose not to have it. Her mind was blown.
Another example: Cooking. Restaurants are closed and while many people are ordering takeout/delivery to support those establishments, there are others who are fretting because they don’t know how to cook. Here’s a thought: Rather than doom yourself to Kraft mac-and-cheese and frozen dinners, try cooking. It’s really not that hard and it actually gets easier with practice. Many of you have the time, so what better way to use it than developing a skill that will serve you well for the rest of your life? Again, it’s not likely to kill you. Even a bad meal can usually be eaten—and you learn better from the mistakes than the successes. Julia Childs herself advised, “Learn how to cook. Try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all, have fun.”
Give it a shot! There’s no better feeling than know you have the ability to indulge your every culinary whim. In fact, tackling something that you find daunting is a sure-fire way to build resiliency and gain confidence in your ability to withstand challenges. And couldn’t we all use that kind of mental boost right now?
I referenced The Greatest Generation earlier. My parents were both of the GG and I have the utmost respect for the sacrifices they made. However, I don’t believe that they had some special strength imbued in them that skipped subsequent generations. I think their bravery and resilience were just qualities that they honed through use. They had to regularly flex their resiliency muscles to survive the tough times they lived through.
As I mentioned earlier, the last item in the earlier list of hardships applies to me. On March 7th we moved my elderly mother into Memory Care and the following week, her senior living community—like others around the country—banned visitors. During the window between move-out and visitor-ban, my sister and I were cleaning out Mom’s apartment when I came across some items of great sentimental value—my dad’s letters to his parents and my mother during World War II, when he was a 17/18/19-year-old serving his country. It was fun to read his letters and hear my dad’s voice in them. (My dad had suffered dementia for many years before he passed away in 2017, so this was a new glimpse into the man whose loss I had long since grieved.)
When one thinks of a war-time letter, it’s easy to romanticize the dedication to the cause, the call-to-duty, the patriotism, etc., “Dearest Mother, tomorrow I face my greatest challenge. Defending my country against the evil threatening our very democracy. I pray that God guides my feet and instills bravery in my heart as I meet the deadly foe…” or some such noble prattle. That’s not what these letters contained. Here’s an actual excerpt from my dad writing to his step-dad about serving on Guam (where he guarded Japanese prisoners as well as “important provisions”—like beer and cigarettes):
“There was one other question you asked and that was what I did in my spare time. When I’m not on watch, I’m either sleeping, eating, laying down or sitting down. I’ve given up all forms of exercise except walking and that’s essential. When I first got here, I used to throw the ball around a little, but this climate wasn’t made for that, so I gave it up. It’s really too hot around here to do too much of anything. Don’t misunderstand me ’cause it’s not that I’ve grown lazy, just too much heat.”
My dad’s other letters likewise contained evidence of boredom. He wrote about the tedium of Navy life, exchanged comments about topics pertaining to friends and family back home, and begged for more mail to break up the dull routine. In one letter that made me smile, he asked his mom to find him a lighter because his stopped working (like many of his peers, my dad smoked cigarettes when he was young but fortunately had quit by the time I came along).
Again, I’m not minimizing my dad’s service or anyone of his generation. Harold, my mother-in-law’s partner, was a ball-turret gunner during WWII. He flew 35 combat missions over Germany, so to call him brave would be a serious understatement. Yet, I suspect his letters back home were probably as unassuming as my father’s, simply because that’s the kind of man Harold was. Heroic, yes, but modest and humble. He just did what was required of him at the time. And when it was no longer required of him, he happily went back to farming.
Both my father and Harold had hard childhoods. Both lost their own dads when they were young children. Both grew up in poverty. No doubt, these earlier life challenges helped build within them the resiliency that later served them well in dealing with the challenges of WWII.
And our time is now. We’re all being called upon to help defeat a common threat and to succeed, all of us need to do what is required. There is heroism in that, too, even if all we’re required to do is stay away from each other. By helping each other get through this crisis, we are building our own resiliency. And let’s not overlook the true heroes among us. The healthcare worker in New York City who shows up each day despite not having adequate PPE is no less heroic than Harold flying those combat missions over Germany. These brave, selfless people are serving others despite a very real threat to their health. We all owe them a debt of gratitude, and we certainly owe them the respect of adhering to social-distancing guidelines so we don’t overwhelm (or further overwhelm) our local healthcare systems.
This pandemic got me thinking of my favorite passage from the children’s classic, “A Little Princess,” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. The main character, Sara Crewe, contemplates whether she is actually a decent person or whether it just appears that way because she’s lived a charmed life and has never had her character tested:
“Things happen to people by accident. A lot of nice accidents have happened to me. It just happened that I always liked lessons and books and could remember things when I learned them. It just happened that I was born with a father who was beautiful and nice and clever and could give me everything I liked. Perhaps I have not really a good temper at all, but if you have everything you want and everyone is kind to you, how can you help but be good-tempered? I don’t know how shall I ever find out whether I am really a nice child or a horrid one. Perhaps I’m a hideous child, and no one will ever know, just because I never have any trials.”
If you’ve read the book, you know that after Sara says this her life becomes rather wretched—testing her in ways she never could have expected. Yet she perseveres in dealing with her new challenges without becoming “horrid” or “hideous.” She discovered—like many of us are learning now—that the only way to build resiliency is by practicing it.
A couple of months ago, I posted a blog about what I thought the Democrats needed to do to defeat Trump. That post was based on my career in marketing and proposed how certain marketing best practices could be employed by the DNC to strengthen their overall campaign against Trump. While writing the post, I knew it was lacking a specific course of action. However, I was interested in gaining feedback from others to further my thinking on the topic. To that end, I pushed the blog out via several channels—LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter—and as of this writing, it’s had over 500 views. (I think this is a solid number, considering it was posted to a brand-new blog I had created—one with no existing followers, SEO or paid marketing behind it.)
Given our contentious political climate, I expected lots of push-back from my post, but I didn’t get any comments from Trump supporters. This was disappointing, since I was interested in understanding their perspective. My social following tends to include many like-minded people (what Republicans would call the DNC Echo Chamber), so it’s not surprising that I did hear from numerous liberals. They nearly all agreed with my overall assessment of the situation and expressed a similar feeling of helplessness about how to reason with people who were supporting 45 in light of so much damning evidence against him.
An outsider’s inside view
However, the most interesting exchange I had on the topic was with a good friend of mine who is a 40-something white, male executive. This demographic is much maligned among liberals, but I think it’s an important group to understand because they still hold the most power in this country. I was particularly interested in my friend’s view because 1) He was born/raised outside the US where he experienced being a racial/religious minority firsthand, 2) he’s been in the US for long enough to be very informed about both politics and business and 3) he’s not a citizen, so therefore didn’t vote in the 2016 election. This gives him a uniquely objective viewpoint on what’s happening in our country.
We had a very spirited conversation via text. At one point in our conversation, I texted, “…I have no respect for Trump supporters for backing someone who is 1) so stupid and 2) destroying our democracy by ignoring the Constitution and colluding with foreign powers.”
His response to that really made me think. And truthfully, after reflecting on it overnight, it caused me to reframe the problem I identified in my earlier blog. He responded (paraphrased a bit for clarity), “The difference between you and them is that they also value not having a stupid president. They also value no collusion with foreign governments, they also value the Constitution, but they value all of those things secondary to the other values, like ensuring a conservative court, etc.” His opinion was that I likely had more in common with Trump supporters than I’d like to admit. But because they placed a higher value on certain issues, and then voted based on those priorities, we now found ourselves on opposite sides of a growing chasm.
It seems elementary in hindsight, but this discussion around priorities was really a revelation to me. My friend’s view, that perhaps Trump voters didn’t endorse his full agenda but just one or two key issues that drove their voting, gave me a glimmer of hope that our country may not be as divided as I had previously thought. After all, we all prioritize in that way. In a world with too many problems to solve, we all pick and choose which battles we want to fight. It just seems that when it comes to Republicans and Democrats, we view each other’s choices very differently.
The varying levels of commitment to a cause
Let’s begin by acknowledging that there are multiple ways to support any cause and that each requires a different level of commitment. For example:
Vocalizing your support or opposition of an issue in conversations with peers
Voting for policies that support certain causes
Donating money toward supporting a cause
Volunteering time or energy toward supporting a cause
Taking action in their personal life related to the cause
Let’s dive into a specific example—animal rights. Personally, I like animals, both
domestic and wild. I’ve had dogs, bunnies, birds and even a hermit crab for pets. I would never personally intentionally harm an animal and I don’t like for other people to harm animals. Yet, I’ll admit that I’m not a vegetarian. I eat meat regularly (as long as it comes from what I consider to be ethical farming practices). At the same time, I’m conflicted about hunting. I don’t personally hunt or like hunting. However, I don’t object to others who hunt (because the deer or duck hunters I know use the meat and it would be hypocritical of me to condemn that when I eat meat myself. However, I am disgusted by trophy hunting, which I classify as strictly killing animals for sport. Yet, while I profess to care about animal welfare, I will readily admit that I don’t regularly donate to animal rights charities because I prioritize other causes ahead of them.
You can see from this example that, although I believe in animal rights, my level of commitment to that cause is all over the place. And while I have friends who are much more dedicated to animal rights than me—they provide foster care for shelter animals and contribute time and money to related charities—I still get along fine with them. That is, they don’t condemn me for my relative lack of support of their cause.
The fact is, it’s human nature to prioritize issues that affect us or our loved ones personally. For example, I have a husband with a disability and a daughter who was adopted and is both gay and Asian. Because these people are precious to me, I tend to prioritize issues around Parkinson’s Disease, adoption, healthcare, minorities, immigrants and LGBTQ people more highly than I do many other equally worthy causes.
I think we all inherently understand that others have to prioritize their beliefs. You could take any issue Democrats collectively care about: immigration, healthcare, climate change, gun control, etc., and you would find the same varying levels of support and prioritization among voters. For example, it makes sense that the face of climate change, Greta Thunberg, is a 16-year-old activist. Her generation will have to live with devastation that won’t as directly impact your average retiree.
Liberals regularly extend slack to each other about which causes they throw their time and money behind, so long as they are all voting blue.
Yet, as a whole, Democrats don’t grant this same dispensation to Trump voters.
I’ll admit, I am 100% guilty of this. From my anti-Trump perspective, I believed that anyone who voted for Trump agreed with everything he stood for. Even though I personally have never agreed with every issue on either party’s platform but nonetheless have voted in every presidential election since I was 18.
How shared values can diverge in the real world
When my friend pointed out that, in all likelihood, Trump supporters were only concerned with one or two specific issues that they were prioritizing above all others (e.g., a strong economy or adding conservative justices to the Supreme Court), a light bulb went off. If Republic voters weren’t necessarily toeing the whole party line, then maybe there was hope?
I remembered a conversation from last spring when a Republican-voting relative of mine was diagnosed with cancer and debating where to go for treatment. His note included a little slam for his more liberal relatives: “Isn’t healthcare choice wonderful? Single payer? WTH?”
I was taken aback by his attitude, because when my husband had been given a devastating medical diagnosis years before, we had the opposite reaction. We, too, were grateful to have good insurance and choices in how to pursue treatment. But it drove home to us how awful it would be to face a similar diagnosis as one of the 27.9 million nonelderly individuals without health insurance.
In other words, my relative and I both shared the belief that “good healthcare is important.” However, he prioritized his desire to keep his affordable employer-provided insurance above the right of everyone else to have even a basic level of insurance coverage (assuming that extending insurance to everyone would result in higher costs or decreased options for him personally). Whereas I considered us fortunate to have good employer-provided insurance for my husband—and viewed that as a privilege that shouldn’t come at the cost of others being uninsured—he considered it critical to his personal survival and worth fighting for.
In voting for Trump, Republicans may believe that “the end justifies the means,” while liberals will argue that these same individuals have “sold their soul to the Devil.” However, once I wrapped my head around the idea that most Trump voters probably don’t support everything he stands for, it changed my view of the challenge facing Democrats.
Branding is what other people think, not what “the brand” thinks
Since this started as a conversation about marketing, I want to explain a fundamental principle of branding. That is, a brand only exists in the minds of the public. It’s the sum of everything a person knows about a company: its products, its services and its messaging about itself. Most companies spend lots of money to carefully craft a brand identity that will be embraced by their customers, but ultimately, the consumer is the one who will determine whether they are successful. If the company aligns to its brand in ways that extend beyond the marketing message, chances are good that the public’s perception of the brand will be close to the company’s intention. But if there is inconsistency, the consumer will put more store in the company’s actions—what they know to be true—than in its marketing message.
And the same applies to both Republicans and Democrats.
For example, while Democrats brand themselves as the compassionate party—the ones who are tolerant and care about others—many Republicans reject that branding because it goes against what they have experienced in their conversations at Thanksgiving Dinner or while scrolling through their Facebook feed. They see widespread condemnation of anyone who voted for Trump and consider the Democrat’s self-branding as the caring, tolerant party to be the height of hypocrisy.
Right or wrong, most Americans believe they are “good people”
Psychologists are aware of something called the “self-enhancement effect” which is people’s tendency to rate themselves “above average” when comparing themselves to others. While we generally cast ourselves in a positive light relative to our peers, above all else we believe that we are more just, more trustworthy, more moral than others. Consider the implications of this: If a Republican’s self-concept is that they are NOT racist, greedy or a white nationalist, how do you suppose they will react to the angry remonstrations of their family and acquaintances? In my experience, they will respond with bitter accusations of their own. The least likely reaction is that the Republican will undergo an immediate self-analysis and conclude, “Gee, you’re right. I AM awful for voting for Trump. I’m going to make amends by voting blue in 2020!”
Yet, most Democrats are just so darn angry about the situation our country is in that we WANT to blame everyone who helped put Trump in office. It makes us feel better in the short-term. However, to succeed in defeating Trump, I’m going to suggest another approach. Don’t engage in political discussions that appear to judge someone else’s priorities (even if you vehemently disagree with them). In other words, we need to resist from bashing Trump supporters. Instead, place all of your focus and attention on those who are being marginalized and help uplift them. Flip the conversation so that you’re appealing to your opponent’s self-concept of being a good person. For example, if there’s a new story that triggers your political ire, don’t launch into a diatribe blaming your brother-in-law and the other idiot voters who elected Trump. It might feel good in the moment, but it will only cause those individuals to further entrench themselves in their position. Rather, bring them into the conversation about how we as Americans can help those who are hurting.
We all prioritize our friends and neighbors—what’s happening in our own communities—above the suffering of others. It’s a human coping mechanism that allows us to function despite the many injustices in the world. But it’s also harder to ignore the plight of others when you begin to know them as fellow human beings. So, use that knowledge to get Republicans to see how Trump’s policies are harming others by personalizing the struggles of those who are negatively affected.
After all, if we’re going to live in a democratic society, we have to trust in the process. That means sometimes Democratic priorities will move forward and other times Republican priorities will prevail. At the same time, we still have a duty to protect the democratic process—so keep the spotlight on Trump’s impeachable offenses and on the victims of his policies. But do it without implicating or condemning those who—in their minds—were just choosing the lesser of two evils when they voted him into office. Even if you believe they deserve that condemnation, it simply won’t move us toward the end game of getting rid of Trump. So, with the new election year just a couple of short weeks away, we need to ask ourselves: Is it more important to get Trump and his minions out of office or is it more important to “punish” family and acquaintances that voted for him?
I believe that continuing to direct anger at Trump supporters is likely to make things worse for Democrats, not better. And despite my personal feelings on the issue, that’s a chance I’m no longer willing to take. Many recent polls have found that Americans on both sides of the political spectrum are troubled by how divisive our country has become, so let’s focus on fixing that problem…together. I believe that a new leader—one who doesn’t thrive off the chaos they’ve created—will naturally emerge as a result of all of us choosing to prioritize kindness and unity in 2020.
Postscript:As a strong believer in personal redemption, I wanted to suggest in this message that reframing the current political situation would allow those reading this to put aside their differences and once again reunite with estranged friends and family members this holiday season (visions of “A Christmas Carol” dancing in my head). However, I think the damage to our country— and to our individual relationships—is deeper than that and will take longer to heal. Still, much like Ebenezer’s nephew who invites Scrooge to Christmas dinner year after year, only to hear “Bah Humbug!” in response, I’ll keep trying. After all, eventually Scrooge said yes!
I’ve relapsed. It’s Sunday and I’m sitting on my balcony, drinking my morning coffee, lost inside my own thoughts. I’m still in my pajamas at 11 a.m. and it’s exactly what my “condition” calls for.
Most of you have heard of “Seasonal Affective Disorder” (S.A.D.) which Wikipedia defines as “a mood disorder subset in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year exhibit depressive symptoms at the same time each year, most commonly in the winter.” Anyone who lives in Minnesota is well-acquainted with this condition and people who live in the South have at least heard of it.
However, there’s a corresponding condition that’s been afflicting me since the days first started growing longer and that’s Seasonal Affective Disorder’s unruly cousin who settles in during the school break—“Summer Anxiety Dysfunction.”
This is brought on by the acute awareness that there are approximately only 15 weekends of potentially beautiful weather in which to pack a year’s worth of summer socializing. People start looking at their calendars in early May to plot potential gatherings: Which weekend should we have the barbecue? Which weekend should we do the pool party? Which weekend do we invite our friends to the cabin? Which weekend do we go boating?
Next, layer in the family commitments: Graduations, weddings, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day—and in my case Lucky’s, Oskar’s and my birthday. Our wedding anniversary (30 years!), my mother turning 90 and ending the summer with my parents’ 70th wedding anniversary.
As if this isn’t complicated enough, there are other events to be considered. Festivals, for example. In Minnesota, there are one or more town/city festivals every weekend, as well as art fairs, beer tastings, outdoor movies/theater/concerts-in-the-park and farmer’s markets.
Whew! When you combine my weekend activities with a demanding new “day job” you can see why I’m exhausted…which brings me to my current relapse. Last weekend, we took Lucky up to see Blossom and then headed to my sister’s cabin. The girls came out and spent the day with us and there was much boating, tubing, paddling and sunning… After all that activity, I was spent… I. Was. Spent.
Consequently, while dragging myself through the work week, I couldn’t conjure up one ounce of energy to plan anything for THIS weekend, even though the forecast was for a beautiful couple of days. Yesterday dawned as the nicest Saturday for boating yet, but we didn’t have anyone lined up to go out with us, so Oskar and I just had a lazy outing on our own—we stopped at my brother’s beach and sat in lawn chairs at the edge of the river and soaked in the sun. It was glorious.
Then we came home, had a drink on the balcony and headed out for yet-another dinner on an outdoor patio. Afterward, we came home and watched a movie. It was just what the doctor ordered.
It goes against my Type A nature to occasionally let a summer day drift by in that way, but I don’t want to be so busy planning my summer that I miss enjoying it.
And, in compiling the bulleted lists above, it’s clear that I’m pretty blessed and have a lot of fun things to look forward to—should I choose to do them. But I also know that if I call a time-out to regroup, that’s okay, too. Sometimes a little laziness is good for what ails you.
In my last blog, I mentioned that I had started a new job and referenced a quote my daughter had sent me. In part, it said, “Let go of the idea that you must always be who you have always been.” When I read that again today, it stuck me as interesting, because it’s directly tied to the title of this post.
Incidentally, the latter is the title of a book by Marshall Goldsmith. I suspect it’s a good book, but I will confess that I usually only read the cover fly and first chapter of business books. I can usually distill the key message from that (“Who Moved My Cheese?” = People don’t like change. Boom! Done.) And then I move on to something else.
(Incidentally, several people have made a business out of that very skill. I should have capitalized on that sooner.)
The premise of the book from which I took my title is basically referencing the Peter Principle. The fact that you may have had solid skills that contributed to your success at one level in your career may become irrelevant as you move up the next rung on the ladder. I was explaining this concept to a former employee when I left my last position, and the truth of it has smacked me in the face multiple times since I started in my new role.
She’s come undone She didn’t know what she was headed for And when I found what she was headed for It was too late
It’s too late She’s gone too far She’s lost the sun She’s come undone
Undun – The Guess Who
I’ve been in Marketing for ages, and I’ve led marketing teams and have been the lead marketer in the organization—all at previous companies. But each of those instances evolved over time so I knew solidly what I was doing.
With my new job, I became the lead of an existing (and somewhat dysfunctional) system. Lots of new people in a matrixed organization. I love the company. The people are friendly and competent, but the company itself is in a growth-plus-plus-plus mode in a booming industry, and all of that adds up to a very frenetic pace and high expectations that I am struggling to adjust to.
Let me be clear, here, I have never been a laid-back coworker. You can ask KitKat or any of my former colleagues, I work very hard and intensely with little time for chit-chat around the water cooler. I usually skip lunch or grab a handful of nuts while reviewing something. That’s my natural work mode, and although I’ve sometimes been criticized for not being “social” enough, it’s worked well for me. When I shut down from working, I’m usually able to turn it all off and enjoy the other aspects of my life.
When I started my new role, there was a several month backlog of work to be done and a couple of years’ worth of unmet expectations on top of that. I’ve been challenged to get on top of things and get some functioning processes in place. None of the marketing tasks themselves have challenged me—after nearly 30 years, I should know what I’m doing—but the politics, expectations and lack of resources are much harder to navigate. Consequently, my work days are even more intense (to the point where I haven’t taken a lunch break since I started and am afraid to schedule an overdue doctor’s appointment due to it messing up my work week). And I never shut off. Evenings and weekends, I’m either working or worrying about work. It’s not healthy and I know it’s not sustainable.
KitKat has been a tremendous help in reminding me that I’m still new and will get things under control once I better understand the company and its people. But I still have moments of despair where I worry that I’ve made a terrible mistake. KitKat’s in a similar boat, but with school-age kids that need to be factored in to the picture as well. I admire her ability to carve out little moments for recharging with her friends.
The situation actually reminds me of a post KitKat authored at one point, “Learning to Live in the Maybe”…although that’s not the lesson before me. My lesson is “Learning to Live with the Undone.”
This is not an easy thing for a Type A control freak. Marketing by nature is a discipline where you are never “done”…. Your work is only limited by your imagination and skill and time—not dollars and people. You can always crank out another social media post or write another case study. Even an organization with ZERO budget can do SOME marketing if they have a clever enough staff. That’s why I have always been attracted to it and I’ve always been okay that there was more I could be doing. But that’s different than leaving IMPORTANT things UNDONE. And that’s what I need to embrace now.
In my new role, I need to focus on getting the CRITICAL things done and anything else is gravy. I also need to remind myself that I’m doing the best I can and “happiness matters.”
I had often thought about this comment with respect to President Obama (not our current Commander in Cheeto, who I believe has no real regard for the importance of the office). I always thought that it would be challenging to be the President, with so much at stake and so many issues to work on and to be able to enforce ANY type of work/life balance. I admired the way that Obama was able to be such an effective president without sacrificing his health or family (although, like most presidents, he left office with considerably more gray hair). And I’ll extend this admiration to other past leaders from both parties—men who, I believe, were dedicated to doing what they think was best for our country, even if I may have disagreed with them on individual policy decisions from time to time. It’s a tough gig.
Now, I don’t have the responsibility of the Free World on my shoulders (although I’m sure I could do a better job of it than the Cheeto), but for me and my world, it’s a similar balancing act. Will I rise to the occasion or let it bury me? What got me here won’t get me there—I need a new set of skills. I need to develop them and see what I’m made of. I still have confidence that I can do that, but I need the support of KitKat, my family and others to remind me that if I’m doing my best, that’s pretty damn good—and I deserve to take a day off once in a while.
We’ll see what the future holds—I hope the next time I write you about work I’ll have a better handle on my work/life balance, but I know that’s easier said than done.
When KitKat and I launched this blog four years ago, we decided on a posting cadence of biweekly, thinking that between the two of us, we could manage an update to this blog once a week. We met that goal for the first six months and it’s been downhill ever since.
We’re more than two months into the new year and I have yet to post my annual “New Year’s” post, brimming with optimism and resolve. Never fear, I HAVE made a few resolutions and have actually made a fairly drastic change in one aspect of my life: I’ve started a new job that is consuming my thoughts and free time.
This was a big deal for me. When I started at my last job, after leaving the company that KitKat and I worked at together, I thought I would stay there until I retire. With my husband’s Parkinson’s Disease, I was anticipating the need for a flexible work arrangement at some point as his condition required me to provide more assistance. I thought that by building some job equity with my company that they would be willing to work with me on a flexible arrangement when that time came. However, when Oskar’s surgery transformed our daily lives by giving us back his mobility, I realized that I had other options. Although I liked my coworkers and my job (well, most of them, most of the time), there was limited opportunity for me to advance.
Early this year, I accepted a new job. The company and my role are interesting and I’m enjoying it (although fully aware I’m in the “honeymoon period”). But the best part about making the switch was remembering that it’s never too late to make a change. After interviewing, I felt a bit nervous—everything sounded good about the position, but it meant going from a comfortable situation where I knew what I was doing to something unknown. And that scared me a little. Then I decided if I was a bit scared, that was a sign that I should rise to the challenge and accept the job. And KitKat had bravely made a job change a few months earlier and encouraged me to make the leap. So I did.
The day I started, my daughter Lucky sent me a quote from her aunt’s Facebook wall, it read:
“There is no statute of limitations on starting over. Re-invent yourself every day. Be the girl who walks barefoot and listens to the blues. Tomorrow, wear a trench coat and speak fierce truths. Be a phoenix. Be ashes. Burn down. Resurrect. Let go of the idea that you must always be who you have always been.”
Then she added, “You’re about to rise from the ashes…” 😉
I loved that because I needed the reminder—and I loved that my daughter sees me as someone who can continue to evolve and grow, even at my “advanced age” (wink). I think, ultimately, that’s the theme of this blog: KitKat and I reminding ourselves—and each other—that we can be whomever we choose and strive to be our best, truest version of ourselves, regardless of the other claims on us…by our families, our jobs and society as a whole. And encouraging others to be their best, truest selves.
That’s what I want for my children, and that’s what I want for myself. And even though it’s sometimes “easier said than done,” it’s ultimately worth it.