In These Times...
The following was originally sent to my newsletter subscribers on October 25, 2024. It has been slightly revised to reflect a few additional thoughts, in light of ongoing events.
Greetings everyone,
First, please let me start by saying that this is not a political message. I hope you’ll bear with me as I am going to discuss my politically charged opinion, but I promise that this is not a political message.
It's a human one.
At the time that I send this newsletter, we will be just ten days out from the 2024 U.S election. (Apologies if that seems irrelevant to my international readers, but something tells me you’re keenly in tune to this as well.) And to be totally honest… I’m worried sick. I hope that none of you will be surprised by the fact that my vote has already gone to Kamala Harris. I’m not a Democrat (I’m registered as an Independent) but I do stand on the liberal/progressive side of the spectrum. While I don’t think that Harris is the perfect candidate- I feel more should have been, and still needs to be, done by the current administration to intervene against the killing of innocent civilians in Gaza, and I’m very frustrated that she flipflopped her stance on fracking- ultimately I see tremendous potential and have lots of hope for her presidency.
Of course in my view the alternative brings no comparison. Frankly, I’m as bewildered as ever at the state of our nation, with votes currently projecting in a dead heat. I just don’t get it. Donald Trump is a conman. He’s a convicted felon. He’s a compulsive liar and demonstrably ignorant. He’s unapologetically and dangerously racist. And sexist. And xenophobic. He’s a trust fund baby and draft dodger that has somehow exploited blue-collar support through a platform built on gaslighting and fear mongering. He idolizes dictators and employs fascist tactics- attacks on the press, our free elections and threats of retribution toward those who dare oppose him being just a few examples- so far. He’s a narcissist who thrives on cruelty and division. He doesn’t possess the aptitude, character or morals to function with any decency by basic social standards. Yet, somehow, none of this has been disqualifying in the minds of enough American voters to the point that he will soon barely land on one side or the other of an Electoral College coin flip for the Presidency of the United States.
I’m scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen with this election, but I’m terrified at the prospect of Trump’s return to office. I’m worried for all the marginalized communities who will suffer unjustly. I believe that we will be pushed beyond the tipping point when it comes to climate change and environmental degradation, with consequences that will compound in horrific impacts on future generations. Our children, our grandchildren, will not know stability on this planet as we have.
Seriously. Think about that for a minute. If we continue to elect politicians who scoff at scientific fact- bankrolled by fossil fuels and other exploitive industries (this goes for down ballot too) and those chomping at the bit to increase their personal wealth by repealing the climate and environmental protections we have in place- your grandchildren will not know life as you have. They will inherit a world in the downward slide of climatic chaos, rapid extinction and adverse volatility. It’s an unnerving thought, but a reality that not enough people are talking about.
And I’m worried for our country. I don’t know if what’s left of our democracy can survive. And the fallout of that would likely result in widespread global upheaval.
I don’t know how we got here. Like I say, I’m as confused as ever… even more than I was in 2016. In part because we now have far more proof explicitly showing who Donald Trump is, what he stands for, and what he intends to do. But maybe even more than that, it’s because I now know who’s voting for him. It’s not just the nutjobs or mouth breathers you see featured at his rallies, poked fun of during “man on the street” style interviews on late night talk shows. Don’t get me wrong- they’re certainly there. The MAGA movement has provided a welcome club house for people who would miserably fail any ninth-grade civics exam, and have a very skewed and limited understanding of how this whole civilization thing works. But it’s intellectually dishonest to dismiss this as the entirety of his base. If that were the case, Donald would be comparing brain worms with RFK Jr. right now, and maybe the rest of us could get back to a place where politics truly was more difference of opinion than adjudication of reality. Instead, the pair are a few thousand votes away from discussing potential Cabinet positions.
There will always be irrational extremists, on both sides, that will be propped up and exemplified to try and sway opinion. But again, that’s nowhere near the entirety of any societal base in serious contention for a national election, and it’s not all Trump voters either. In reality, his electorate is representative of millions of Americans. It’s honest, hardworking, good-hearted people. It’s educated people. It’s people who are struggling and tired and desperate for change. It’s friends and family members. It’s people I grew up loving and respecting… and still do. And it’s some of you reading this (if you’re still reading- I do anticipate a record number of unsubscribes/unfollows after that opening.) It’s people I would never want to hurt or offend, so please know that’s not my intent.
It's still very confusing to me though. I just don’t understand, with evidence this stark and extreme, how good people can still passionately believe in and support that man. It just feels so bizarre to see some of the very people who I have known to model kindness and virtue throughout life, now willing to ignore those values in selecting Trump to lead this nation, represent this country and shape the future for their loved ones.
But I also realize that some of you may very well be thinking the same of me. You might be just as confused and frustrated toward Harris voters, and maybe even fearful for the direction of things if she is elected. I might never understand it, but I do respect your right to an opinion and personal reasoning, and can at least find common ground in empathy there.
With that, I’d like to shift gears a little and share a few quick stories. Because I’ve been thinking about all of this a lot lately, and about things I’ve experienced and observed that speak of the true fabric of this nation. I’ve been fortunate to travel a bit in my days, and have covered tens if not hundreds of thousands of miles across America by both contemporary (car and plane) and more intimate means (by bike and on foot.) I’ve interacted with people from all walks of life, and been touched and humbled by many encounters. While we as a collective have many differences- in lifestyle, beliefs, regional culture and more- the most essential thread that I have seen to bind us always manifests in acts of kindness and shared humanity.
For instance, one time I was hiking across Maine on the Appalachian Trail, and got caught in terrible autumn storm. It brought several days of heavy wind and driving rain, with temperatures barely above freezing. Despite my best efforts, all of my gear got soaked, and by the second afternoon I was nearly hypothermic. With darkness falling I made it to an old logging road, and fortunately managed to flag down what was probably the only vehicle to pass that day. The man inside was coming home from an unsuccessful bear hunt, and invited me into his rusty old pickup without hesitation. He ended up driving twenty miles out of his way to deliver me to a town with a motel, and insure that I'd be warm and dry for the night.
A few years later I was on another backpacking trip, walking across Maine again, and managed to injure my leg. I limped to the closest town and called a couple who sometimes rented rooms to hikers, but they were out of town. There was nowhere else to stay, and I was kind of stranded there- unable to hike and with a couple of days to kill before my flight back to Iowa. Upon hearing my predicament, despite never meeting me in person, the people arranged for a neighbor to come and unlock their house, and let me stay there even though they weren't home.
A few days after that I needed to get to Gorham, New Hampshire, from where I'd catch a bus to the airport in Boston. If I remember right it was about a twenty-five-mile hitch from the town I was staying in, but I managed to catch a ride. The woman who picked me up was a hiker herself, off to meet friends for a day on the trail to celebrate her fiftieth birthday. We swapped a few stories, and she let me out at the edge of town before continuing on her way.
When hitchhiking I always made a habit of taking some cash, the small notebooks I'd use to journal, and any memory cards from my camera, and slipping them in my pocket- as opposed to leaving them in my pack, which was usually tossed in a back seat or truck bed. That way if I found myself in a sketchy situation and had to bail and run, at least I'd have those irreplaceable things on me. But as I shouldered my backpack and started walking into Gorham, I realized that this time the plan had backfired. Somehow the Ziplock baggie holding these items had slid out of my pocket. I didn't know if it was roadside or in the woman's car, but I hadn't even caught her name. I thought they were good as gone.
I was absolutely distraught. The photos and notes I'd taken on that hike were really important to me. I sulked my way to a hostel where I planned to spend the night before catching my bus the next morning. It was one of a few in town, but I guess at some point during the ride I'd mentioned staying over, because later that afternoon I got a message from the front desk. I was given a number to call, and it was the woman- Robin I then learned- who had given me a ride that morning! She'd called all over town trying to track me down, based on my first name and description alone, and made it a point to drive back and return my belongings before I left the next day.
On multiple long distance hiking trips I've had people- complete strangers- give me rides, buy me meals, and let me stay in their homes- all over this country. In New York, Pennsylvania, Washington, Oregon... I've had people literally hand over the keys to their car so I could run errands within an hour of meeting me in both Connecticut and California. A man tried to give me the gloves off of his hands one blustery morning in New Jersey...
One time while on a long bike ride I was coming into Chicago, alone, a bit lost and trying to find an urban trail. Out of nowhere a car pulled a U-turn against traffic and hopped the curb in front of me. A large man jumped out of a tiny little Mazda Miata, threw his hands up and signaled me to stop.
"Where you trying to get, partner?"
I told him the name of the bike path I was trying to find, and incidentally I'd missed it about a mile back. The man told me where to go and landmarks to look for, then explained that I'd been heading toward a part of the city that I did NOT want to be.
"Sorry if I scared you," he said. "But about three more blocks the way you're heading you're going to find yourself in a lot of trouble. I couldn't let you keep going and get yourself killed."
I had something similar to that happen in Cincinnati too...
On one of my last solo bike rides across Iowa, I broke my derailleur cable a few miles outside of Red Oak. I got into town and called a number for what I thought was a bike repair shop. It turned out to be gentleman in his eighties who said he used to "tinker with bikes a bit" but was now retired and couldn't figure out how to get his listing removed from Google. Just the same, he invited me to come to his house, then spent two hours in his garage telling stories and fixing my bike with me.
Last summer while I was in Montana, I did a trail run on Big Mountain. It was just after the Whitefish Arts Festival, and I was still feeling discouraged at some of the things I'd seen, and interactions I'd had that weekend. Nearing the summit, I reflected on my time living and working there, and wondered what had happened to the spirit of this community I'd known and loved so well. Just as I turned a corner, I came upon a pair of women enjoying lunch along the trail. They offered, and insisted I try, some fresh picked Flathead cherries (which were incredible!) and we talked for ten minutes about favorite local hikes and ski runs just like old friends.
One time I was driving across Arizona on the tail end of a photography trip. I'm sure at that point I'd been subsisting for at least a week on a diet of little more than Pop-tarts and Dr. Pepper, and this being back when I was still eating meat, I finally decided to indulge one evening with a buffet from the McDonalds dollar menu. Justice acts swiftly beneath them western skies, and the repercussions for my stupidity were realized early the next morning in a state park bathroom.
I'll leave the specifics of what atrocities unfolded in that stall to your imagination, but will admit, to this day I can't pass a pair of Golden Arches without feeling some degree of gastro distress. To make matters worse, at the height of this... outpouring... both in flow and acoustic accompaniment, this little old lady comes into the bathroom and starts cleaning.
How do I know it was a little old lady? Because the stall door was broken and wouldn't close all the way.
We made eye contact through the six-inch door gap when she entered the room, but apparently I was way more alarmed to be sharing the space than she was.
"I'm sorry," I said, humiliated. “There’s somebody in here."
"Oh that's okay honey," the woman replied. "I don't mind. You just go on about your business. It's nothing I haven't seen before."
She then started to hum a heartfelt rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and proceeded to clean the floor.
I was kind of dumbfounded but in no position to argue... and unfortunately at that point I was in no position to leave yet, either. All I could do is sit there stretching with one arm to hold the door from opening further, watching as the woman's mop strings crept under the dividing wall to slap against my shoes and the shorts around my ankles... and- as she'd instructed- going about my business.
(Alright so maybe that last one was more a confession than act of kindness. It... um... it was actually quite traumatizing. I've just been holding that shame in for a long time and finally needed to tell somebody!)
A couple months ago I was on my way back from South Dakota. I'd completed a long trail race the day before and was barely able to walk. Driving through an unfamiliar and very remote stretch of Wyoming, the fuel light suddenly came on in my rental car. I didn't have cell service, there was a thunderstorm moving in, and the next town was still forty miles away.
I pulled into a rest area to look at a map, and there was no way I was going to make it anywhere before running out of gas. Coincidentally, I noticed a lone trailer home sitting down a long lane off the backside of the parking lot. It didn't particularly look like the kind of place that would welcome unsolicited visitors, but I had no choice. I drove down the rocky lane and found a man standing outside in his yard, bickering with his wife. He turned and gave me a scowl, shouted at the woman to get their barking dog back in the house, and waited to see what I'd want.
Stepping out of the car I was a little nervous, but knew how to handle the situation. I put on my best country boy charm, introduced myself and first asked how far it was to the nearest gas station. I knew living out in the sticks like that the man would probably have gas on hand, but wanted to let him offer. We talked for a minute, I explained the car was a rental and the gauge had dropped fast going up mountains with the head wind. A few minutes later he was lifting a gas can while I opened the fuel cap, and telling me all about his family ranch. He poured in a couple gallons; I handed him twenty dollars (though he swore it wasn't necessary- and I knew he was sincere) and he shared a few more stories before we both realized I needed to get back on the road. We shook hands and he urged me to stop in and say hi the next time I pass that way.
So what's the point in sharing all of this? Because every one of these instances serves an example of the inherent good in most people. It's something that transcends politics, zip code, fiscal status, and anything else that tends to divide us. It's something to take solace in, something to inspire. It's something we must be sure to remember in times like these.
I know that’s sometimes hard to do. Honestly, in the days since I first shared this, it’s been a struggle to take my own advice. The examples keep coming. Fires set in ballot boxes in Oregon and Washington- the culprit prioritizing their agenda over disenfranchising the will of hundreds of voters, possibly foreshadowing things ahead. Vile racism at the Trump rally in New York City, with spin artists quick to downplay it as jokes and accuse anyone who would decry such as overreacting. What misplaced, bullshit privilege to dismiss these words as harmless coming from those who have never walked in a targeted persons shoes. And I’m not just talking about the so-called comedian. Several other speakers spewed plenty of disgusting hate-filled rhetoric and propaganda as well. We’ve learned nothing as a society if we accept entitled people telling us not to laugh if we don’t find something funny, when the punchline is full of racism or misogyny, and with undertones of true intent. Encouraging those who recognize wrong to shrug it off or look away is what keeps systemic injustices in place, and they know it. That dismissal has always been part of their playbook.
With that, I want to share just one other quick story for added perspective. The is from another bike ride I took across Iowa- a year after the one mentioned above- specifically with gaining perspective in mind. It was the fall of 2020, in the aftermath of the George Floyd murder and following a summer of protests and civil unrest. Many of us were questioning what we could do to work toward a more just and equitable future in this nation, and the one striking request that I kept hearing directed toward white people is that instead of trying to dictate solutions, we instead take the time to stop and listen. So I decided to do just that. I retraced the route I’d ridden the summer before, reaching out in advance to different groups on social media to try and find local residents, specifically those from minority backgrounds, willing to meet up and talk. I went town to town and met some of the most incredible, caring people- from all walks of life. I was welcomed into homes, offices, religious temples and met in city parks- often times for hours, with people willing to trust their life stories with a total stranger. Many of these conversations were heart breaking. I heard firsthand accounts of broken windows and vandalism in churches, racial epithets screamed at children, and learned that many of these people- as warm as any I’ve met in my travels, and some who have become friends and still reach out to me with kindness and encouragement today- feel heightened anxiety in public settings, even while engaging in simple tasks like going to the store or exercising on a bike trail. The reason? Racism is still very prevalent- even in quaint little Iowa where people love to be labeled “Nice” -and is a reality they live with- EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
This is what happens when people are willing to look away from wrongs that they don’t think affect them. And frankly, there is so much that people must willingly turn a blind eye to in voting for Trump. Hence the rest of our frustration and confusion. The magnitude of this election feels like so much more than policy matters. I know that times are hard- the economy will ebb and flow. But that shouldn’t hold a candle to the difference you feel between right and wrong within your soul.
That said, I know I’m not changing any minds here. I believe that this discourse is important, but know that people have valid concerns on the other side, and must choose for themselves what to prioritize and what leaders to believe in. Even when it’s challenging not to get caught up in emotion, I stand by the original intent of this message- which is to remind people of the vast amount of good and kindness that does exist out there, beyond our differences, and on a human level.
Days from now we are going to elect the next president. Regardless of the outcome, the course of this nation is going to be forever changed. I know that I'm not going to influence any of you to pick one way or the other. And no matter what, I still do hope that you will all get out and vote. Vote your beliefs, vote with conviction, vote with your conscience. Understand the gravity, and exercise your rights.
But in light of it all... please also make it a point to prioritize kindness. Please show compassion and civility toward your family, neighbors and friends- no matter their political affiliation. Or yours. Because regardless of who wins this election, we as a country have A LOT of work to do if we’re ever to realize the ideals we hope to achieve. That’s work that will be carried on the shoulders of everyday people and play out in our daily interactions. It will lean on the power of caring, and depend on helping each other along on this journey through life. We must understand that whatever comes of this election, in the aftermath, we're all going to have to get through it together.
Kindness and our shared humanity are the ties that bind. This is the fabric that can carry us as one, and the only way America will ever genuinely achieve greatness. It’s our only true way forward from here.