The way we despise the opposition with a depth of vileness cannot help but impact our children
By George Valadie
It’s a story my wife has recounted countless times. And one for which I have given her grief in equal number. But it comes to mind these days.
At the time, she was driving one of the many ratty cars we have owned. She was used to inconvenience. Flat tires, dead batteries, issues with starters, and that one time it wouldn’t go in reverse. It was what we could afford.
Still, this particular time she was in a fast-food drive-thru lane when—moments after she had placed her order—it just died. Cars in front, cars in back, kids in tow.
This was a world before cellphones. No way to call. Nowhere to go. It’s the sort of situation we’ve all experienced where those little beads of sweat break out on your forehead, your face flushes red, and you’re absolutely sure each and every onlooker is staring at you with every manner of disparaging looks.
And the horn honks … lots of horn honks.
“Dang it! I can’t believe this!” she muttered.
Then Sarah, our youngest and strapped into her backseat car seat, offered, “That’s a ‘dammit,’ isn’t it, Mommy?!”
Not only did she know what to say, she had already mastered the context in which to say it. She was 3.
The grief I always give my bride is the result of the debates—dare I say arguments—we had when she became pregnant with our first. And again when the next one came and the one after that.
We weren’t the first nor the last. “Maybe going to work wouldn’t be a horrible idea” was the solution I offered for our problem. “They’ll be OK.”
“Well, maybe you need to find a different job,” she would counter. “Because as long as we can, you know I want to stay home until they’re all in school. I think it makes a difference.”
“Well, you’re doing good there, honey. She’s mastered potty-training and cussing.”
We laugh about it still.
They pick up everything, don’t they? Vocabulary, usage, tone of voice, emotion. They grasp facial expressions and comprehend body language.
They’re conniving little gremlins, too. We can’t get them to clean their rooms or do their homework. “I didn’t hear you say that.” So, we assume they’re not listening to anything else.
But they are and they do.
But more than learning from us, they have a need to be like us. Maybe a genetic need.
According to a recent study quoted in the Science journal, “The findings suggest that over-imitation—in which a child copies everything an adult does, even irrelevant or silly actions—is a universal human trait…
“Researchers already knew that over-imitation was a human-specific quirk. In previous studies, dogs and chimps (who were) taught to open a box and retrieve a toy copied their teacher’s toy-seeking behavior only when it proved efficient.
“(In other words,) when the instructing adult added irrelevant actions, such as brushing a feather along the edge of the box before opening it, the animals skipped those, doing only what was necessary to get to the hidden toy.
“But human children copied every detail, even the pointless brush of the feather.”
“Animals focus on getting the job done,” explains Mark Nielsen, a psychologist at the University of Queensland in Brisbane, Australia. “Humans seem to almost forget about the outcome and copy everything we see.”
And whom do they copy more than their moms and dads?
And who “forgets about the outcome” more than those same moms and dads?
I mention it all as we find ourselves in what might well be the ugliest electoral season ever—certainly one not seen in recent memory.
So, what do we think? More importantly, what do we say? How do we act?
And what do they learn?
A month ago, we recalled the anniversary of 9/11. I’m of the opinion that in the days, weeks, and months that followed, we became a different country for a while—a sadder one but a better one in some ways.
Our entire nation was fully aware the terrorists hadn’t sought to kill any singular faith, creed, or political party. We grieved as one. We actually were one.
Sorta what I imagine God had in mind from the get-go.
With the elections in our near future, we’ve been given the opportunity to teach young people a lot about the way it’s supposed to be.
Yes, we have our differences and yes, we disagree. But it can and should happen with civility. And tolerance. Perhaps without the anger or the hate. Or the name-calling.
Lost in our phone or TV or reading the news, how often we forget that they do indeed hear and absorb it all.
“I hate him!” or “I despise her!” is heard and imprinted way more than we think or can know.
Is it no longer possible to argue then go to dinner?
In the newly released movie “Reagan,” the Speaker of the House congratulates the newly inaugurated president, “Mr. President, you enjoy tonight because tomorrow we go 10 rounds … you plan on going 10 rounds every day now, that’s how we do things here.”
“Well, just remember every day has a 6 p.m.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well as of 6 p.m., we’re not political enemies, we’re just two Irishmen having a beer.”
“Deal!”
Sadly, there are no more such deals.
Our leaders aren’t having a beer anymore. Nor are we.
And way too often we’re despising the opposition with a depth of vileness that cannot help but impact our children in a manner we likely do not intend.
That’s a dammit, isn’t it?
Dear God—Please bless the idea of ideas. And may we never forget you created that person, too. Amen.
George Valadie is a parishioner at St. Stephen Church in Chattanooga and author of the newly released book “We Lost Our Fifth Fork … and other moments when we need some perspective.”