TJ Hirst

Much has been said of late about patriotism in the news. As we celebrate our independence today, I reflect on these words that remind me that real strength is not just evidenced on days of prosperity where the grass is always green and the sunsets stunning.

. . . The year 1776 had been as dark a time as those devoted to the American cause has ever known—indeed, as dark a time as any in the history of the country. And suddenly, miraculously it seemed, that had changed because of a small band of determined men and their leader. . . The year 1776, celebrated as the birth year of the nation and for the signing of the Declaration of Independence, was for those who carried the fight for independence forward a year of all-too-few victories, of sustained suffering, disease, hunger, desertion, cowardice, disillusionment, defeat, terrible discouragement, and fear, as they would never forget, but also of phenomenal courage and bedrock devotion to country, and that, too, they would never forget.

David McCullough, 1776

In our nation today, some feel like we are a nation falling apart as we face economic hardship, political struggle, cultural conflict and natural disasters. These could destroy our hope and optimism for the future or instead, through the darkness we can discover our own courage and grow to develop characteristic American commitment to our families, communities and our nation.

I’ve been considering our circles of socialization in life and how our circumstances influence our thought and belief system and our influence on others.

Minnesota Public Radio’s Midmorning with Kerri Miller interviewed Howard Fineman: Senior Washington correspondent and columnist for Newsweek and author of “The Thirteen American Arguments: Enduring Debates That Define and Inspire Our Country.”

While I have not yet read his book, in the broadcast, “Divided, and United, By Debate” he talked about the importance of debating issues. Essentially, he says that as a nation we have been “born and bred to argue” about fundamental things that we may craft and participate in the political system of our government.

In my view that participation in talking and listening to one another is a means to “figure out” what’s working and what’s not, what we believe and what we don’t, and what is right and what is wrong, not only in politics or government but any aspect of our culture and modern lifestyle. However, as I try to live, talk, write and listen to create a conversation about ideas, I continue to bump into a barrier in all my circles that I haven’t been able to put into words.

Here are Fineman’s words:

There is a whole bubbling conversation taking part in a million different directions every day. My concern is not that the lack of sophistication is there—although that’s a problem sometimes—it’s that there’s a tendency for people stay in their own bubble, that whatever is reassuring to them, they’re constantly in it and they’re not getting out and listening to other people.

It is more comfortable to be in a bubble of people who are like-minded because we can relate to what they are dong and thinking. I have discovered this comfort zone in any community I’ve ever entered whether it be in a leadership capacity, a class at the gym, a neighborhood, church or even in the blogosphere. It feels awkward when we see a group of people around us that seem to fit together and we are on the outside of that. However, the more important point is that when we are in a bubble, it is difficult to see who and what are on the outside of it.

Fineman’s solution is to get out and listen to other people. While he admits that “most people would say that the hardest thing for any human being to do is to listen,” I would say that in my experience it is even more challenging to take the first step, to get out.

Can I really remove myself long enough from my own circumstances, concerns, insecurities and beliefs to get out of the bubble and see and hear those around me who have different circumstances, concerns, insecurities and beliefs?

On the broad scope of debating he suggests accepting the “fundamental humanity of the other people who are speaking.” On a more personal note, I suggest listening occurs more effectively when we let go of our own defensiveness.

Ultimately, the small ways I move outside my own thoughts, perspectives and conversations to listen to others enlightens my belief system to expand and strengthen it. Unfortunately, I realize I still only occasionally really listen outside my own bubbles and feel hampered in popping those bubbles altogether.

I sent my children to pick strawberries in Grandma’s garden while my mom and I cleaned the kitchen after dinner. They came back after only 15-20 minutes with just a handful of berries and said, “There weren’t very many there. They were either too ripe or not ripe enough.”

The next morning I took a turn picking strawberries. I worked from one end of the patch to the other, looking under leaves. I checked each plant. I checked each berry. With slow but deliberate effort, I picked a tub of strawberries from the patch they said had been all picked.

They must have expected to only pick strawberries whose appearance was uniformly perfect, like a grocery-store strawberry. Maybe, too, they did not know that each strawberry ripens at its own pace, making multiple pickings of the same patch essential.

KH came out, saw the fruit appearing from my diligent work and worked alongside me. The value of each strawberry grew in our eyes. She saw visions of berries atop pancakes with whipped cream. Now, the treat itself would mean more. Certainly, it would taste better.

For me came the realization of one of the pitfalls of our modern lifestyle. We are far removed from those who produce our goods and services. As a result, we come to expect more and better fruit for the same or lower cost without a recognition of the cost or value involved. In the case of strawberries this means cheaper labor from sources who will do the work we no longer want to do. In the end, we lose sight of that work’s value and the fruit it produces.

While our family is not going to move to my parent’s farm and produce all our own goods and services, the lesson that “whatsoever a man soweth that shall he reap” reminds us of the true value not only of the fruit but the laborer as well.

In a fitting end to the school year, we sent our children off to the bus stop
only to have one daughter come running back and yelling,

“My flip flop fell down the drain. I was just walking and it fell.”

Flip

It just fell, right off her foot, through the storm drain grate and down eight feet.

Flop

After school, they fished it out.

I wrote my first literary review as a lifestyle writer in a journalism class working for my college newspaper. I reviewed a play or musical at the Sundance Summer Theater at Sundance Resort. The mountain setting captured me, but I wrote what I considered was an honest reaction to the play and the performance. The student editor thought I was too negative and sent me back for another showing. In reality, I was an immature writer who thought I would be doing my job better if I recognized and pointed out the flaws. I probably went looking for them.

A critic is one who forms and expresses judgments of the merits, faults, value, or truth of a matter. A critic can also be one who specializes, especially professionally, in the evaluation and appreciation of literary or artistic works.

My American Heritage Dictionary has this usage note for critique:

Critique has been used as a verb meaning “to review or discuss critically” since the 18th century, but lately this usage has gained wider currency, in part because the verb criticize, once neutral between praise and censure, is now used mainly in a negative sense.

That usage goes along with the third definition of a critic as one who tends to make harsh or carping judgments. The negative connotations of these words—critic and critique—are probably growing now more than ever with the barrage of negative opinions in all forms of media.

I question whether the increase of criticism and opinion has brought us more enlightened solutions or more creative excellence. I copied this quote years ago from an Architectural Record:

a critic can. . . seek out analogies in literature, or history or science or poetry, compare and contrast to what we see around us. A good critic can deepen our love and sharpen our wits, while ferreting out the imperfections and raising questions that we, and he, could answer. . . When it succeeds, criticism informs debate and educates, clarifies the issues and states a position, allowing us to make informed decisions, to be wiser consumers and more ardent and rational proponents for worthwhile efforts.

Robert Ivy
in Architectural Record
July 7, 2001

While we are inundated with more and more information and opinions, I believe our culture continues to need more thought-filled, evaluative writing of this sort. Apparently, there is still room for a critic, we just need to give him or her a new name.