“Points To Ponder”

c. 2017 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-17)

1:30 a.m. - Awake with a fresh cup of coffee.

One of my past employers liked to leave workplace notes for his management team with the heading “Points To Ponder.” When we saw such correspondence waiting on the office desk, everyone took it as a sign that careful consideration of the issues at hand was needed. And expected.

A recent morning in the Ice household revived this habit.

Having fallen asleep early, after dinner, I found myself awake in the darkness, with midnight fading into the wee hours of a new day. My mind spun like an industrial motor. Active and independent of outside control. Random thoughts were on parade. But I yearned for more rest.

Finally, surrender came in a familiar ritual. I brewed a pot of Java in my Bunn coffeemaker. With a tease of thunder in the air outside, even Mother Nature seemed to be restless. So I chose to channel her energy. And take my place at the home computer.

I breathed a heavy sigh while tapping away at the keyboard. During a friendly discussion in the previous week, I had received a comment that was unexpected, yet familiar. I was trying to describe my personal outlook in philosophical terms, and went numb when judgment came.

“You sound so Republican!” I was told.

To be honest, I laughed a bit inside. First, because my childhood consisted of being called a “wild-eyed visionary” by some members of my traditional and religious family. Secondly, because these same beloved souls were sure that I must be a Democrat.

With our discussion derailed, I tried to explain my own heritage. The family from which I came was neatly split on genetic and political lines. My paternal relatives were educated professionals who thought in the quiet and conservative pattern set by Dwight Eisenhower. The maternal side were skilled laborers who gave allegiance to the calm and caring template set by Franklin Roosevelt. Both were quite sure that their world view held the most merit. There was a sort of ‘detente’ at work all through my childhood. Each group patiently disagreed with the other. While sharing love and devotion to the greater brood. Thus, I became a ‘Libertarian’ long before having heard the name of that party said out loud.

In my retail business career, I climbed to the rank of a salaried manager. But remained proud to recall my time as a union member and hourly worker. Employees gave me a kind of respect reserved for one of their own. When conflicts appeared, I made sure to hear all sides before making decisions. My personal relationships were varied and enduring, over the course of three decades. I often preferred the company of regular associates to that of the other supervisors. It was my belief that the battle for success was won or lost not necessarily in the boardroom, but right on the sales floor, one customer at a time.

The social evolution of our country in the postwar period seemed to presage that of my family. Where we had enjoyed a kind of loyal dissent during bygone years, the modern era found us drifting toward polarization of a sort. I noticed more candor in the expression of opinions at family gatherings. And perhaps, a bit less concern for considering the other side. Lots of conflicting e-mail messages going out into cyberspace. In a nation governed by the ‘either-or’ mindset of two major parties, effectively locking out all opposition, such a conclusion was probably inevitable. It was too easy to mine the groove first cut by the reigning duopoly. Chevrolet vs. Ford. McDonald’s vs. Burger King. AFC vs. NFC in the Super Bowl. Left or Right. Up or down. A simple choice that even an American voter could comprehend. Multiple points to ponder would present a vexing conundrum. One not easily defined by high-dollar soundbites.

Still, I continued to wander on my own.

The 2016 election tugged at the very fabric of our family. With two dreadful choices for the nation’s highest office, each side searched for a cause to swallow the bitter pill. I was lectured about the calamity that awaited should I fail to endorse either candidate. Democrats short-circuited their authentic, populist champion, Bernie Sanders. Republicans self-destructed as media attention inflated the capricious campaign of Donald Trump. Much like peering at the wreckage of a train despite fearing the carnage itself.

I wished for genuine democracy. For active citizens competing with diverse and creative philosophies. For the kind of liberty that made Thomas Jefferson observe: “If I could not go to heaven but with a party, I would not go there at all.” For freedom from the sour poison of money.

But in America, as in my tribe, it was not going to happen.

The comment of my friend made me smile. Did I indeed sound Republican? Or Democrat? Or disaffected? Disinterested? Rowdy? Rebellious? Mixed up? A mish-mosh of ideas waiting for the moment of expression?

I wanted my Libertarian Party membership card, so it could be pulled out easily and waved in the air as a talisman of hope. But more accurate would have been to reply with the mantra of Popeye: “I yam what I yam.” A grown-up kid from a two-party family. Steeped in respect for the wisdom to be had on all sides of an argument. Someone who still finds it impossible to think along the lines of political dogma and wealthy donors. One who, as a professional writer, seeks balance even while writing unique opinions.

The coffee I made over two hours ago had gone cold. Outside, echoes of thunder continued to sound from the dark sky. My Black Lab took turns pacing around the kitchen and laying across the carpet in our home office. Another manuscript was finished. The restless night had been kind.

Now it was time to greet oblivion. To slumber away the remainder of my restless night. And ponder more points in search of the next newspaper column.

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Published weekly in the Geauga Independent