Patrick Butler: Another Look

I can't believe what I'm hearing as people talk about American politics now that the conventions have finished. I can't understand why politics seem to bring out the worst in them.

It's like they're injecting poison into their veins. They go crazy and say demeaning things they'd normally never say, about people they would try to understand in any other circumstance.

It's nuts.

It makes me want to take cover until all the addicts get to politic-detox and get vituperative and condescending attitudes out of their system. For instance, take my encounter at a local Tyler coffee shop on Thursday.

I walked in and ran smack into E.D. Ott, the perpetual university student sipping an Americano at the handicap table, even though he's not handicapped.

He flagged me down before I could escape, so I sighed and sat down. I should just tell him I won't talk to him anymore, but it's against my religion to turn down people who aren't holding a gun to my head. Besides, I've known Ed for years. He's part of my history and I can't deny it.

E.D. (I just call him Ed) is a case. He's so immersed in politics he lives for nothing else during a general election. He's been like this since I met him in college in1972 during the McGovern-Nixon race. Ed was handing out leaflets in the student center, warning everyone that if his candidate didn't win, America would be doomed to destruction.

Back then, Ed did nothing but watch TV and regurgitate what "pundits" were saying. He still does that today. Age has not been kind to Ed, because now he understands all things via pundits. I wouldn't wish that on an enemy. I knew what was coming and prayed for endurance and wisdom.

"Hey, did ya' hear what Sarah Palin said on Wednesday," he said.

"Who's Sarah Palin?" I asked innocently, hoping he'd get the hint and give up immediately.

"Give me a break, Butler," he said. "You're the religion editor. You know exactly who she is. What did you think of her speech at the Republican convention?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, Ed. I know you. You've already made up your mind and you know exactly who you're going to vote for."

"But what about Palin's daughter?" he said.

"Which one?" I asked evasively, hoping he'd get the hint again (he didn't).

"The 17-year-old one, c'mon."

"What about her? She's 17."

"Yeah but."

"But what Ed? Kids are off limits. Period. I'm not talking about her."

"OK, what about Palin?" he pressed in. "She's..."

"Nothing I say about Sarah Palin, Barack Obama, Stephen Harper or the man in moon is going to change your mind about them," I interrupted. "Why go there?"

"Who's Stephen Harper?" he asked.

"The Prime Minister of Canada," I said wearily, getting up. "Look, I have."

"No, no, wait a minute," Ed said, pulling me back down into my chair. "You're the religious editor, what's your take on this Palin thing?"

"Religion editor," I corrected. "I've listened to Obama and Palin and thought favorably towards both speeches. Each had good points and each had faults."

Ed snorted. I hate it when he does that.

"Spoken like a true wishy-washy fence-sitter," said Ed, sarcastically. "Is that what religion stands for? Ya' got no guts?"

"That sarcasm is exactly why I don't talk about politics," I said. "And I'm not insecure having 'guts' so I don't have to take your bait."

"C'mon," he said plaintively. "I'm asking as nice as I know how."

I shook my head. I knew I would regret it if I said anything. But I said it anyway.

"OK," I said. "In my view, Ed, religion stands for not knowing. It means to be more of a learner and less of a teacher. It means to quiet your soul and admit your own inability to comprehend. And it means to cease being critical of what you pretend to understand. It means to love people from the heart."

"Yeah, but..."

It means to be grateful for another's perspective, to grant them dignity by acknowledging what they do have, and not trying to destroy them in the name of love of their fellow man. It means leaving bitterness, the poison of the soul, behind once and for all and to repent of it and flee it, the minute it comes back to haunt your home, town, city, state, country and world. That's what religion means to me. It's all just clanging gongs and crashing cymbals otherwise."

"Yeah, right," Ed said, gulping down the last of his Americano, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That sounds good but it will never play in prime time America. Forget about it."

"Well, maybe, just maybe that's something we have to work on."

"Yeah, maybe, but don't go around writing stuff like that," he warned as he got up. "All those good religious people? They'll crucify you.

"That could be," I said, getting up. "If that happens, it's my cross to bear. But I don't think so. I have more faith than that."

Patrick Butler
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