I know we haven't talked in a while, but I've been thinking about you. We've mostly seen each other on Facebook for the last 10 years. We've been busy, raising kids, making a living, holding our families together. Still, I miss you. But lately, I haven't even seen you on Facebook; the algorithms of likes, clicks, and shares made you all but invisible to me. You have pro-Trump posts and Kaepernick memes, I have Hillary's shimmy GIF and the campus PRIDE center. I had to go search for you to see pictures of the family. I mean, how could this machine know we are friends?
And here's the problem: what has happened to us has happened to the nation, divided against itself in blue and red feeds, dismissing those who don't agree with us (I mean, everyone on my Facebook feed agrees with me!) and refusing to talk or listen across the aisle. We have separate news outlets vying for our attention 24/7, giving us different stories, many of them dashed with conspiracy. The medium seeks controversy, and some branches of it are not above peddling rumor as fact, making false equivalences, provoking outrage, and scaring the crap out of us if it keeps us watching. Don't touch that dial. Remember when it was a dial? When the news came on once a night, and not really so much on the weekend? Remember when it went off?
The game of my facts vs. your facts isn't serving us very well right now, so what if we found other ways to talk to each other? And what if, just for now, we did it without resorting to any of the pre-baked buzzwords that have turned into hand grenades this wicked campaign season? (Off limits: immigrants, second amendment, abortion, "law and order," taxes, 1%--you know the list). All of that is important, urgent, in fact, but first, we have to be having a conversation. So how about talking about what we hope for, for our kids, our friends? What kind of neighborhoods and communities would help us flourish? I'll go first. I want to see my sons find meaningful work that contributes to a good life for them and for others, with enough time for their loved ones. I want my neighbors to have the same. I want neighborhoods with great roads, schools, police, fire departments, and parks, with people who cook out together, watch each others' kids and pets, neighborhoods that look more like villages than fortresses. I want to spend less time on social media brewing the tiny jealousies that come with comparisons and instead see my friends face to face. I don't want to be afraid. And I'd like to have dinner, soon. I know, the schedule is crazy and it's a drive, but it would be good to see your face, to remind ourselves that we still have each other.
Because I have to admit something to you: I am afraid, and it's not just about the obvious things on the news or who wins the election. I'm scared that we're failing each other in some fundamental ways, failing to see the shared future before us, failing to recognize that we're all here together, that "us" and "them" talk breeds violence, not peace. I know it sounds extreme, but I think we could be on the verge of losing everything--our humanity, our democracy, our capacity for empathy. Sarajevo hosted the 1984 Olympics--remember watching some of that together?-- now it's a town synonymous with ethnic cleansing. The ski jump was turned into an artillery post, and the buildings downtown are riddled with bullet holes. I know, I sound alarmist, but nations don't recover quickly from dictators and demagogues who stir religious hatred, racial difference, and economic anxiety into war. There are a few people who benefit from stoking this climate of fear, but look at what it's doing to us. We the people, the nation, the polis, both as the cities we share and the ideal of what life together looks like. Life together. I guess that's what I want. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I miss you, man. Let's get together soon.