I have a friend who sports such relentless optimism you cannot help but feel better after spending time with her. When I joked with her once that she could find the bright side of the plague, she responded, “Population control!”
In the aftermath of Tuesday’s election, I am thinking a lot about my friend. Surely, she would find the silver lining in what was, for many Americans, a dark day.
The shock and disappointment is widespread in the Upper Valley. Our next president won 15 percent of the vote in Hanover, 26 percent in Lebanon, 37 percent in Enfield. On the other side of the river, the Vermont towns where this newspaper circulates voted overwhelmingly against our next president. Eight years ago, we saw tears of joy in many corners of America at the election of a historic president. On Wednesday morning, I saw tears of a different sort on the streets of the Upper Valley. My son’s teacher, navigating hordes of laughing schoolchildren, looked around at the long parental faces and said, “Today is a day I really love my job,” before asking her class, “Who needs a smile?” A mini-burst of youthful pandemonium ensued.
Usually, a group of guys getting ready to play hockey at Campion Rink is a rapid-fire cacophony of chatter. On Wednesday, silence reigned. So much for locker room talk.
At the grocery store, employees huddled among the cauliflowers, whispering about the results. I asked how the mood was on Wednesday. “Weird,” replied the young woman who was helping to bag my purchases. She reported that she asked an innocent, “How are you?” to a regular customer, who replied, “Terrible,” and launched into a rant about how the end was nigh.
There is no disputing that the vibe was indeed different on Wednesday in the Upper Valley and around the country. Friends in Florida, Massachusetts and Montana — not to mention many members of the national media — asked “what is wrong with our country? And who are these people?” Emails flew around the internet: “I don’t know a single person who voted for him!”
But what I didn’t hear — and what troubles me — was a deep acknowledgment that our new president won fair and square. What I didn’t hear was that one could drive from Bonners Ferry, a small town in northwest Idaho, to Miami, Fla. — a voyage of 3,100 miles and 46 hours — without penetrating a state that voted for the presidential runner-up. And, most disturbing, I didn’t hear or sense any willingness to reach out to the winning side, to understand their views, their dreams and their opinions.
That sanctimonious cold shoulder is part of what landed us here in the first place. That dismissive condescension is precisely what the winning side voted against. That cloistered, inside-the-bubble thinking is what is ripping at our common bonds of humanity and Americanism.
As has happened so many times in our nation’s history, the current occupant of the Oval Office was able to offer a reasoned assessment of the American democratic process. He said, “Now, everybody is sad when their side loses an election, but the day after, we have to remember that we’re actually all on one team. This is an intramural scrimmage. We’re not Democrats first. We’re not Republicans first. We are Americans first. We’re patriots first.”
It seems to me that, regardless of your opinion about the individual who will next occupy the White House, you cannot possibly dislike the nearly 60 million people who voted for him. You cannot reasonably think that 95,000 Vermonters are 100 percent bad because they voted for the winner. And you cannot seriously hate the 345,000 Granite State souls who pulled the lever for the next president of the United States, Donald J. Trump.
These people are our neighbors, our friends, our colleagues, our families. Start with them. Try to understand their point of view. Open your mind. Gradually, try to understand Ohio, Florida, Texas and Utah. If we believe that there is more good out there than not, I am convinced this country will make us proud. That’s what my friend would do.
Because if we refuse to take that initial step, then the only thing un-American in this election season is our own behavior.
Mark Lilienthal lives in Norwich. He can be reached at mlilient@gmail.com.