I took the above picture about thirty-four years ago. My first husband and I were wandering about Colorado when we got into a familiar discussion as to whether we should make a turn or continue straight.
"Hey, you need to turn here."
"I don't think so. The trail we are looking for should be just ahead."
"Let me see that map. No, you're wrong. We need to make a turn."
"I guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"
I don't remember who wanted to do what, or whether it was our intention to remain on U. S. 89. What I do remember is the laugh we had just a-half mile up the road. This sign proved one of us to be right, and whomever it was, insisted on the picture. The phrase This is not U.S. 89 became a sort of private code we used to alert each other of possible errors in judgment. It always served to make us stop and think how totally convinced we could be about something only to find out we were wrong.
I remember one day in particular. My granddaughter, Jessie, was spending the day with us. She had decided to go to Australia as an exchange student and would be gone a year. She was only sixteen. I was not sold on the idea, and I thought a day, alone, at the RV would be the right setting to talk her out of it. The three of us, Ronnie, Jessie and I, were building a nature trail at Tawakoni State Park. The trail was Jessie's idea, and she wanted to mark all of the flora along the way. Conversation came easy.
"Jessie, Australia is a long way away. A year is a long time."
"I know, Grandma. But I really, really want to go."
"Grandpap and I are going to be doing a lot more traveling. You could spend a summer with us."
"What kind of tree do you think this is, Grandma? Hand me your tree ID book."
"I'm pretty sure that's a redbud. Here you go." I handed her my field guide. "You know, Jessie, we could do this kind of stuff together next summer if you were here."
"Grandma, I want to be "me" for a while. I want to get away from here."
She tried to refocus our conversation, change the subject. " See, look at this. You're right, this is a redbud tree. How do you know this stuff?"
"Growing up in the woods, I guess."
She laughed. "Grandma, you did not grow up in the woods!"
"Jessie, I'm going to really miss you if you go to Australia --"
I looked up to see tears forming in her eyes, and I glanced at Ronnie. Without missing a beat, he reminded me this decision was not mine to make.
"This is not U.S. 89, Ann."
I made a u-turn, got excited about Jessie's adventure and joined her in planning it. It turned out to be one of the most memorable years of her young life, and she met people who will be lifelong friends. In the middle of that year, she came home to attend Ronnie's funeral. The trip took three days, flying stand-by and changing planes in strange airports. It was a harrowing experience for a just-turned, seventeen-year-old. That first night home, she slept in my bed, her arm around me.
"Grandpap would be proud of me, wouldn't he? I made it by myself."
It would be great if there were signs to correct all of our mistakes as easily and quickly as the Colorado highway sign. Life is easier to understand looking back from farther on down the road, but maybe it's the lessons to be learned that require us to live it forward. Frustration with myself and, too often the people around me, make me wonder how far human nature has advanced, if at all.
Is that a function of age? Does every generation reach a place where they become disillusioned with the rate of progress being made? The giant steps in technological fields and every science known to man, from medical to ecological, and everything in-between, are mind-boggling. Still, the characters and hearts of some people seem not to be touched by the changes, the knowledge and the truth of today.
During the sometimes fractious Obama campaign, I was invited to and attended an Achievement Dinner for the husband of one of my employees. We were seated at table with other of my employees and their spouses. The event was well-planned and well-attended. Once the formalities, speeches, etc. were concluded, many of us stayed around just for conversation.
The Democratic Convention had closed the day before, and as a matter of course the conversation turned to politics. My then husband, Randall, brought up the subject with Dennis, one of our dinner companions.
"Did you happen to see either of the Clinton's speak at the convention? They both did more than asked in enthusiastic endorsements. What did you think?"
Dennis chose to avoid the question by asking another.
"Do you know the difference between Osama and Obama?"
"What?"
"Just a lot of BS."
There was some polite laughter, but I provided none of it. The frivolity of response seemed inappropriate and it concerned me. Making light of a person's charaction is serious and especially so when that person is being considered for the position of our country's leader. I could not let the joke go unanswered.
"Well, no matter what candidate you might support, I think most people will agree Obama made a hell of speech last night. He inspired a lot of people. I was impressed."
Dennis was incredulous. "You're kidding, right? If he gets elected, we'll all be bowing toward the east. He won't even salute the American flag or wear it as a lapel pin."
"Dennis, that's not true. Even if Obama were not inclined to salute the flag, he's not stupid. He's running for President of the United States. He would salute the flag if only as a pretense!"
"Well, he is a Muslim."
"No, he's not a Muslim. He's a Christian. Even so, why is that a big deal?"
"At the base on this discussion, Ann, have you not read in the Bible where races are ordered to remain separate?"
By now, I'm wondering if I'm in the twilight zone.
The whole room had become quiet as they observed our discussion. Dennis was in his mid-thirties, educated and a hard-working, middle-class American. He was married to Kim, a Hispanic woman who was an underwriter for my insurance agency. They had two biological daughters and one adopted. The kids played organized soccer and softball, and their parents were ardent supporters of the kids' activities. Religion was important to them, and they were in church most Sunday mornings. They were --at least, I thought-- a typical middle-America family. As the conversation went on, I found myself praying they were not typical.
"Mingling the races! Geez, I haven't heard that since I was a kid in Louisiana in the early 1950's. You are not serious, are you?"
"I'm saying the Bible says we need to stay separate. Obama is not a Christian."
"I believe he is, but I am not sure that is pertinent to his aspirations to become president. Shouldn't we be looking at his qualifications as leader, not his religious beliefs."
"Why?"
Well, look at his leadership qualities, his education, his accomplishments, his goals for our country. Aren''t those the things by which he should be judged when we cast a vote for or against him. His actions actually do espouse Christian ideals --"
"That has nothing to do with being a Christian. We need a Christian in the White House. Do know what a Christian is? During the Clinton years, we were forced to take pictures of Jesus out of our schools. We can no longer pray in school."
"Anybody, anytime, anywhere can pray. I've never --"
"Just try it sometime in school. It's not allowed."
"What's not allowed is promoting one religion over another. What's not allowed is forcing a Jewish child, or a Muslim child or even a Wiccan child to be made to feel less because the Christian child's prayer is more important and must be heard while theirs is not. What's not allowed is encouraging a Christian child to feel superior because others must hear Christian prayers said aloud. Silent prayer --"
"Now, I'm wondering if you are a Christian. We need to be heard. How a person acts doesn't always prove them Christian."
"Christianity is about honesty, tolerance, love, and taking care of your neighbor."
Dennis seemed to be truly concerned about my religious beliefs.
"Don't waste a lot of time worrying about my soul. I'm telling you Obama is not a Muslim, he was not trained in an extremist Islamic school, he does not refuse to salute the American flag, --"
"I'd like to see some written proof of those things."
"I'll send you some stuff. What's your e-mail address?"
"I don't want you to have my e-mail address. Just send anything you have to Kim's. She'll get it to me."
At last, someone else spoke up. "You might try www.snopes.com. That's where I check things out."
Dennis did not hear dissenting opinions. "All I know is, if he's elected, he'll be shot."
I wanted to scream at Dennis, and anyone who shared these narrow-minded belief's and were unwilling to, at minimum, do a bit research or hear a dissenting opinion. I admit was as sold on my position as he was on his. The difference was, I had searched for the signs and Dennis would not consider the signs. He flew right by: This is Not U.S. 89.
My observation of today is that in our world, our country, our neighborhoods, people are lining up on each side. Too many are unwilling to hear the other side. Too many are ready to judge without facts. Each person, as a citizen of this world, has an obligation to look for signposts of truth, reality, and common good in every encounter.
As Lincoln said over a century ago, "We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies."
The road we are on is not US 89! Maybe not a total u-turn is required, but certainly, it is time to slow down and observe the alternate routes and the detour signs.
