Mending Shattered Pieces

​When I was a senior in high school, the internal wall of my bedroom was shared with the bedroom of my two sisters. In their room was a large shelf that contained perhaps three dozen glass figurines.

One night near 3 A.M., a huge crash shook me from my slumber. I was still barely awake, but soon a light went on and another loud sound came from their room. A mournful “oh, no!” whisper-shouted from the mouth of my groggy father.

I sleepily shuffled to the doorway of my sisters’ bedroom and saw on the floor all of those carefully collected figures, gifts my parents had made to my sisters, in a hundred broken pieces.

​My dad was distraught. I had more interest in sleep than in silly figurines, so I slumped back into my bedroom and promptly went back to sleep.

When I woke the next morning, it was as if the collapse of the shelf had never occurred. The shelf was in place, and each of the collectibles was tenderly positioned in their old homes, barely a hint of a scratch to be found.

My dad had spent the quiet hours of the morning meticulously repairing each one.
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Monday was Veteran’s Day, and as is sometimes my habit, I listened to FRESH AIR on my commute home from school. The host - Tonya Mosley - was interviewing Phil Klay, a marine who had served in Iraq and then written essays about his experiences.

​The choice made sense as a clear nod to veterans, and I really enjoyed the interview, but he said some things that conjured my father sitting in the wee hours, bent under a lamp with his paintbrush and glue and a hundred broken pieces.

First, he referenced Derek Walcott’s acceptance speech for the Nobel prize, noting “the love that re-assembles the fragments is stronger than the love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.”

If I were my father, I would have gone under the sink for the dustpan and broom. He didn’t. He chose to trade a night of needful sleep for tedious and mentally exhausting labor to regift those figurines to my sisters. His second gifting was much greater. It was a beautiful picture of redemption.

Klay quoted Walcott as his response to a question on whether Trump’s partisan play for patriotism had turned him off. I have heard, post-election, of the many who are so dissatisfied with what they believe is coming in a second Trump Administration that they are making plans to move, to abandon our country.

Klay made other poignant statements. He said both cynicism and despair are “false comfort.” He added a lesson learned from another vet, that “being an American is like being a Christian. If you don’t put it into practice, you don’t believe, right?”

These are plain lessons that I already know, but I must admit that I’ve been so very jaded about politics and about our democracy in general that I’ve allowed myself to sometimes find the hollow solace of despair. I have good reason. We all do, whether we were for Harris or Trump or none of the above.

I’m no fan of either party, but I think former president / president-elect Trump has lowered the bar in many spaces. Much of his behavior and history is blatantly harmful to individuals and groups. (As soon as I wrote the last sentence, it dawned on me that some reading this stopped right there and will read no longer.)

They are not dissimilar to the ones who are applying for citizenship elsewhere. I’d say they are all problematic, because they are unwilling to face a challenge to their beliefs, to sit in that space of discomfort.

But I’ll finish the thought, which is to say that part of the reason for our rapid decline in public discourse is because, as Edmund Burke famously taught us, “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

This quote is oft misrepresented to bolster oppressive power or destructive rebellion, but the kernel of truth is still there, and Klay hit directly upon it.

If we consent to drop out of the American experiment, we’ve silenced ourselves and given up ground. You can’t really bicker and moan when you’ve clocked out early. We must look in the mirror. It takes great love for a friendship, or a marriage, or a church, or a family, or a country to keep on fighting when despair and cynicism feel so much easier.

​Sometimes it can be soothing to play the victim. On the other hand, it takes great love to pick up every broken thing and painstakingly work to put it back together, especially when you feel the hammer might drop again at any moment.

I live near Philadelphia, which is home to a fluctuating multitude, known sometimes as “nega-delphians.” These are people who have experienced a great amount of losing over the years, so much so they see failure in nearly every imperfect success. They are ready to quit early so at least they’ll be able to say “I told you so” when the whole dream of a Super Bowl, World Series or NBA Championship comes crashing down.
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They can never be happy, even with a win, because they are fraudulent fans. They haven’t fully paid the price of love, of commitment through the lean and discouraging times.

We often thank our veterans for their service. Mr. Klay left the impression that if we are grateful, we will demonstrate that by staying engaged, no matter how disappointed we become. (Every American war has seen young African-American men join up to serve our country, even though each time these brave men and later women have come home to find continued prejudice waiting for them in the country they served – wow!)

We must not abandon the democratic conversation, we cannot silent our dissent, we dare not further ostracize one another for our disagreements.
           
I work with a man who sets off alarms every time he walks through a metal detector. An army veteran of twenty years, who spent time on many of the world’s continents, he has truly given his life for our country. He understands service.
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He is also a MAGA man, and for the last several months has been hammering on me in our talks, smiling wide, patting my shoulder, joking about “we’re going to convince you eventually, brother.”

​Optimism, and a desire to see me see what he sees. So far, I haven’t come around, and I suspect I won’t, and I’ve told him as much, wearing a slightly less jovial smile.

Some have taken to calling the MAGA wing “deplorables”, “garbage”, and “fascists.” Part of the reason people feel this way is because they view anyone who could support Trump through the window of their own political viewpoint. They see MAGA as a monolith because they are unwilling to deeply consider what is beyond their own purview.  

This is, ironically, one of their major charges against the red hat crowd.
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I am lucky. I have friends and family who support Trump, and I have family and friends who supported Harris. This forces me to listen or isolate myself from my brothers and sisters of this world. 

I’ve been chastened by the words of Mr. Klay. So - I will not retreat, but plan on pushing in with love and with a clarity about my own need for mercy and long suffering. I pray I will always return the same.

​I hope you will too.