2 weeks Ago
Just a few weeks ago, there were no election signs in my neighborhood. No signs for Harris. No signs for Trump.
I checked frequently. We are a small neighborhood without discrete boundaries and yet we have our own sense of identity. A few residents have lived in the area for generations.
One neighbor was born several houses away from the house he died in. It’s not a fashionable address — the once-stately maples have mostly come down, and the river that runs behind many of our backyards hardly babbles or offers optimum views. Years ago, someone had a block party and handed out lists of names and phone numbers, but that was that.
Still, like most neighborhoods, there is a comforting familiarity of faces, of casual conversations, of friendly dogs and growing children. Except for that one time when an aggressive pit bull attacked a sweet little bichon named Snow Drop, it’s a quiet place even now when someone’s chickens free-range on our lawns, pecking away at the vegetation. But that’s just background.
And meanwhile, I appreciate that our home turf is mainly a politically free zone. In this election year of such high stakes and high tensions, I trust my neighbors are choosing to keep their political views out of view. Maybe we all feel safer and homier that way.
Neighbors, no doubt, have their suspicions. I’m guessing that our home is sandwiched between the polarity and controversy. I know in fact that keen Harris supporters live on one side of us and assume there are Trump voters on the other.
And I might make a few other assumptions down the road. But for most of our other neighbors, the ones with neat gardens, or gray cats, or who exchange occasional offers of help if needed, there are no guesses. And truly, I prefer to not know because I might be saddened and disappointed.
It changes things, and I’d rather not change things. Perhaps that’s part of our front yard absentees. And while it’s true that our political views are only one part of ourselves, these days they are anchored in core beliefs that reflect a vision of our nation’s history and future.
They reflect our truth. And such opposing values are not up for discussion. I know, I’ve tried.
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Cross|Word Flipart Typeshift SpellTower Really Bad Chess As I’ve aged, I’m better at debate. I don’t lose my temper or call names. And to my own surprise, I like and respect at least two of the people I’ve recently argued with.
I liked them before and after. We can exchange hugs afterward and go on playing cards and eating pizza. Of course, they don’t send me hate mail or deliver threats.
A few months ago, at a family dinner, including several of our teenage grandchildren, there was a typical discussion we call “an ethical dilemma.” The topic of this “ethical dilemma” was about this very issue of political signs. Should we put up signs supporting our presidential candidates? At the time, I argued pro.
It’s important to take a public stand, I said. “But that will divide the neighborhood?” someone else said. We explored the value of open displays of diverse views verses a neighborhood uncompromised by revealing political factions.
After batting our pro/con signage ideas around the dinner table for a while, we ended with a vote. The vote of our clan showed a tie with one abstention. And despite my vote for putting up a yard sign, I haven’t put one up.
And no one else in our neighborhood had either. Until ..
. until now. One sign.
A disappointing one. And then the opposing sign. And yes, in truth, now I am a bit more uneasy as I go by that opposing sign.
It feels intrusive. But so far, so far, it’s been a glorious fall and we pass one another with friendly waves as always. “Hi neighbor,” we say, “did you catch the moon last night?” And maybe, when the signs are down and this election cycle is over, maybe, just maybe, we will find a wider path to our common humanity.
Ruth Charney lives in Greenfield..
