Dragging my way, on the latest No Kings day, down to the streetfront along Main directly across the parking lot from the Republican local offices, I saw the tried and true flag-wavers, this time red not blue, and actually engaged in a meeting of minds with a couple of them, spending in all almost an hour just hanging out in this unusual place for me. But it was a bit spacey like being surrounded by aliens, not the illegal kind, but those from beyond the stratosphere.
However, they weren’t nearly as right-wing, out-there as I thought I would get from those waving the Old Glory. Reasonable Republicans? Space Cowboys? These talks were much more balanced, and this was an opinion they all reinforced about their mates. With flags that were only at rarely chosen times tinted just confrontational gray-blue. Two archvillians, of sorts, were the guy going out into nearly the middle of a busy street during a break in the traffic and waving The Stripes, and someone else dressed up in full Indian garb (I will use their term) and having a bronze eagle atop his flagpole. (Maybe Donald could buy him a gold one.) People quickly approached me, and might as well be carrying scripts, hoping to galvanize my leftist grit with right-wing remedies.
There was a boom box pumping of all things, YMCA by the Village People, and it soon segued into more country-style tunes, and people did dance a sort of jig for just a moment. There quickly was a tune with more twang, and I tried to listen to the upshot, but all I could hear was a reference to a character with a rifle robbing a liquor store. There later was a little rock, too, both southern and lighter mainstream.
I soon found myself offered a chair and sharing a can of peanuts and raisins with the woman on my left. Fingerfull after fingerfull. She didn’t seem hugely radical and said hers was one of many subgroups that went by a name that was partially Patriots. Their group does not believe, they said, in violent takeovers or largely defunding the poor. Then she offered me more nuts, the good ones.
But what about people possibly losing some of their SNAP benefits? She didn’t seem too perplexed, but added that she and her family — like me — waste very little food and that she does lots of veggie canning, showing me a couple of photos of her basement shelves. Does she give any of it to charity? No, but she does offer it to most of her relatives and even some low-income people, albeit only those she knows well. I told her that made her part of the solution. That comment did seem to perplex her. She didn’t consider herself a hero. But maybe just protecting your own.
Then we moved on to abortion. She shared with me her position, and it is so predictable I don’t have to state it. I countered with, concerning Thou Shalt Not Kill, what about when the life of the mother is in danger, or even if there is rape or incest. Makes little difference, she said. Or seemed to say. Lockstep, save babies, save babies. I countered again by repeating something from a friend of mine, a female who served on a school board and also ran for legislative office, and said she would never abort a baby, but that she does not feel it’s her place to tell someone else what to do with her body. I added my position that such an issue, however thorny, cannot be legislated, and all we can do is leave abortion legal and hope — and pray — that people make wise choices. And if you are going to be sexually active and consider abortion, get tested regularly and catch it as early as possible.
The response, at length, was that she stared straight ahead or looked upward, and said nothing. I upped the ante with a couple of statements that begged a reply but got none. Just pass the peanuts, maybe. Just now, don’t take too many.
We did agree that concerning the debate on choices in pregnancies, especially those that are medically problematic, who should die, the baby or the mother, we should let the reaper take whichever category ends up sparing the greatest number of lives, and that would mean saving the baby. Still, I will criticize those who are blindly pro life, and would say that because of situations like this and certain facets of euthanasia, they can actually be selectively pro death.
Then I stood up and wrapped around to walk back. Another man gently stopped me. Our discussion was a little more wide ranging and he was even more centrist.
Noteworthy in particular were his comments on censorship, which he said he opposes in all forms, even though Trump is in favor of squelching so many voices. Rather, he blames the left for censoring, with his focus on their focus on banning particular words. He chose two in particular as examples, and they are interesting choices: Nazi and pentagram. (Even “nigger” is embraced for use by some in the black community, a term for themselves, but only when spoken by Blacks.)
The man, wearing a black hat, said he recognizes, although stops short of saying defends, the right of a man to wear a dress. Even though he does not “support” it.
And, he adds, there is a need to keep a support network for those of lesser means. He does want to maintain social security, for all, but did not answer questions about whether the extra needed funding should come from placing more taxes on the ultra-rich, or whether the burden be placed on some other source. Even though seeming quite intelligent, he was unaware that some, or many, billionaires pay little or no taxes, after deductions are considered. He feels they already pay their fair share.
I also talked to people on the other end of the political spectrum, those who marched on down to Lakefront Park, and they said what I also had observed blocks to the south with other ilk — while many were driving past and honking with thumbs up, comparatively few gave the picketers the finger. Meanwhile, some Trump supporters avoided the noisy street scene and played a game of cards in an apartment building lobby.
Does this all mean we are coming together, all of us, in a conversation?
The mountain of a Jewish man who fronts the metal band Disturbed thinks so, and check out the clip online where he stops mid-concert to softly and sweetly, but sometimes with power in his voice, to give a four-minute speech to a scared singalong little girl — mostly by the fireworks — with her family in the front row, about how we all, right and left, can come together whatever our varied backgrounds and be loved. And how he is proud that their concerts have become a family affair, as an example to us all, in an often ugly world. Remarkably eloquent and touching.