We went to our best friends’ home for dinner last night and had a wonderful time. Due to all of the things that begin happening at our age, we hadn’t gotten together for several months and all of us were eager to catch up. We even had a birthday present to deliver in respect of an August birthday, a fact which will give you some idea of how delinquent we all have been in managing our get-togethers.
The evening was replete with the joy that we usually share whenever we meet, joy which stems from copious laughter, good food, and the exchange of personal news and the news of mutual friends and respective families. We received an unexpected gift inspired by something I had previously written on this blog – the beauty of which far outshines that of the piece which inspired it. We even had the unparalleled joy of a reading of a Bill Bryson passage, in which the act of the reading was much funnier than the passage being read. What more could anyone want or ask?
Well, to my surprise there was a bonus to this exceptional evening. None of us usually talk about subjects that contain even a whiff of political substance because we are all aware that, as couples, our politics are divergent. Accordingly, we have always been careful to avoid such subjects for the sake of our friendship. I won’t characterize the politics of anyone other than myself, but I admit to being quite far to the left on the political spectrum and to likely having the most extreme positions of the four of us. If I am correct in this belief, my positioning allows me the privilege of saying that being of such views has never lessened the respect I have for those of my friends who disagree with my opinions. If things were otherwise, I might well be very lonely indeed.
But I am always curious why others believe the way they do, hoping to learn something new from their take on the world or to discover the logic they used to arrive at their vantage point. My curiosity causes me to enter dangerous waters from time to time – dangerous in the sense that if one is not careful in the conduct of a political discussion among friends occupying positions on the political spectrum that are on opposite sides of dead center, one risks losing the respect and trust inherent in the status of “best friends” by being strident or obnoxious or by employing unreasoning zealotry in the conduct of the conversation. Having said this, I never believe these waters to be dangerous as long as they are navigated with mutual respect, good intentions, and with the purpose of trying to better understand one another; In fact, I strongly believe that such discussions, when properly conducted, can only deepen a friendship rather than causing a rift.
It was the subject of guns that got us into the realm of politics last night. It is not a subject that can be easily ignored in this digital age of all-day, every-day newscasts conducted by broadcasters seeking to be the first and the loudest to bring all the bad news they possibly can to the table in relentless pursuit of market share. Gone are the days of considered news broadcasts presented by the likes of Chet Huntley, David Brinkley, or Walter Cronkite. Those days are as lost to time as the gentle family sitcoms of the 1950s, replaced by a constant digital vomiting of gossipy drivel presented as news by wanna-be actors of various political stripes attempting – mostly unsuccessfully – to pass themselves off as uninterested observers of the human condition.
My friend and I have things in common when it comes to guns, even while having differences as to their employment. He has been a hunter; I have never hunted. I once owned a 22 rifle given to me as a long ago birthday gift in the late 1950s, but gave it up when my hometown police force held a gun turn-in drive several decades ago; my friend still owns the 22 rifle he was given in his youth. I once worked in a sporting goods store as a clerk where guns were openly sold, and, while I never personally sold any of them due to being underage, I did show them to potential customers whenever my boss was away, accompanied by the admonition that if the customer wanted to buy I would have to fetch another clerk of a more appropriate age in order to close the deal; my friend has never sold a gun to anyone. I used my 22 to target shoot, but not hunt; my friend has fond memories of target shooting.
We are both products of the place and time of our youth. Both of us still want to believe that guns can be owned and used responsibly, despite the digital onslaught of shootings that greets us every morning when we check the internet for the first time (this morning’s gun news is of an off-duty policeman shot to death somewhere in the Midwest, apparently by a neighbor). However, my friend believes that guns have a more useful place in society than that of hunting, while I have grave doubts about the merits of his position. But, as previously noted, I am the likely extremist of our group – that is, if extremism is to be measured by the shortness of the distance of each of us from his or her chosen end of the political spectrum.
But as far to the left as I am on the subject, I do not occupy a position at the extreme end of the spectrum. So last night’s discussion quickly devolved into trying to determine where we had common interests, rather than an attempt to convince each other of the errors inherent in our respective beliefs. I never find the latter sort of discussion to be of much use among friends; such discussions are usually doomed from inception, since all of my friends have come to their beliefs as a result of intellectual contemplation rather than blind zealotry. I know this to be true because I make it a habit to avoid zealots like the plague. So, if a friend is the holder of a well-considered belief arrived at by thoughtful means, changing that belief by means of an over dinner discussion is simply not a fruitful goal, while achieving a better understanding the nature of the friend’s belief and trying to find shared common ground is. Not only is the latter an attainable goal, I believe that the achievement of it usually enhances mutual respect.
Without going into the nitty-gritty details of our discussion (a discussion which lasted longer than the tolerances of our respective spouses who soon left us to it), we found that we each believe that guns are inherently dangerous and should only be used by responsible people who have had proper training in their use. This is not to say that each of us, if magically appointed the Great Gun Guru of the United States with unlimited authority to make decisions about the manner in which guns are to be owned and used in our society, would apply those principles in the same way. In fact, it was quickly clear to each of us that we would not. But we were able to find common ground of the sort that allows for intelligent dialogue between persons of good will possessed with differing opinions; the kind of discussion that, if it were held in Congress or a state legislature by legislators who not only understand that compromise is necessary but a desired goal, might lead to legislation about a sensitive subject that could find its way into law – the kind of law where those of all political persuasions achieve some, but not all, of their wished-for goals; the kind of legislation that everyone can say is a success from their vantage point, despite causing some disappointment when compared to personal core beliefs; the kind of laws once produced in this country by political centrists of good will who understood that good governance arises from mastering the art of compromise through the art of listening.
In short, neither of us shouted or ranted. Our friendship means too much to each of us, and neither of us believes that all of our friends must think exactly as we do. What a boring world that would be! That sort of rigid thinking would never have brought us together in the first place, since if I, a lawyer by training and logic, had been so narrow-minded, I would not likely have made friends with an artist known for seeing the beauty of the world from a vantage point beyond my comprehension. In fact, it is my belief that our friendship is actually rooted in our innate differences: I am as fascinated by the workings and mysteries of his talent for producing beautiful paintings derived from a vantage point utterly foreign to my basic constitution, as he must be in his consideration of all of the aspects of a material world governed by laws fashioned of the rigid logic so beloved by heartless lawyers.
My friend undoubtedly has the better of me when it comes to this difference between us. Neurological science suggests that creativity principally resides in the right brain, while logic principally resides in the left. Therefore, as the left-handed Boston pitcher Bill “Spaceman” Lee once famously said in a Sports Illustrated interview published on April 7, 1980:
“You have two hemispheres in your brain – a left and a right side. The left side controls the right side of our body and right controls the left half. It’s a fact. Therefore, left-handers are the only people in their right minds.”
So I am very grateful to Tom and Carrie for the gift of last evening – for the wonderful dinner, for the laughter, for the great art on display in their home, for the thoughtfulness of a unique gift, for their caring and concern for ourselves, for our family, and for our mutual acquaintances, for the deepening of an already deep relationship, for the simple, but truly rare, gift of their friendship, trust, and regard.
