OFF THE FRONT PORCH: ‘That’s How America Is Supposed To Be’

I was pretty proud of myself. Spying a coveted parking spot on a busy Saturday in downtown Johnston, I pumped the brakes, eased to a stop, slipped my car into reverse and executed a near-perfect parallel park.

“That was nice,” said the elderly man sitting on the park bench. “I used to could do that.”

We chatted for another minute or so about the almost-lost art of parallel parking, our shared love of fast cars and a good parking spot, and then I walked inside the Johnston Genealogical Research Center. My workday awaited.

Inside, at the Southern Authors Expo, I strolled among the tables and talked with fellow writers whose passion is capturing stories of South Carolina history for their self-published books. There were authors who specialize in Civil War history and others who recount regional ghost stories and folklore.

There were authors who have devoted countless hours to researching family histories for black families whose ancestors date back to the darkest days of the slave trade in the South, and there were representatives from the Sons of Confederate Veterans wearing battle flag pins on their lapels.

Re-enactors strolled around in petticoats and bonnets and even one in a kilt. Interested patrons navigated from table to table, chatting with the authors about their shared love for words and reading. As I walked out the door for my next assignment, I remember thinking, “That’s how America is supposed be,”

Dance Like Everyone Is Watching

For my next assignment, I drove a few miles down the road to Three Star Vineyard and Orchard. It was another gorgeous Saturday in September, and the always-impressive musical group The Experiment and The I-20 Horns were gracing the vineyard stage.

I ordered a fudgesicle-flavored wine slush and a fruit-and-cheese plate and found a comfortable seat near the stage. When the band kicked into a cover of Wilson Pickett’s “Mustang Sally,” my love of soul music stirred inside of me, and I was somehow drawn to the floor to dance alone. Others soon followed my lead, and we danced, as the old cliché goes, like no one was watching.

But they were watching – and they were singing along, and laughing and tipping their own glasses of wine or wine slushes. There were clusters of white 60-something middle-class friends logging some time outdoors before their favorite college football teams took to the field later on TV. There were sorority sisters from a nearby historically-black college, celebrating a girls-day-out. There were Hispanic couples tucked in close together, holding hands, talking softly and getting lost in The Experiment.

As I made my way to my car for my next assignment, I remember thinking, “That’s how America is supposed to be.”

Later that night, as I was having a delightful dinner at Mario’s in downtown Edgefield, Mayor Ken Durham walked in and settled at the bar. I finished my rigatoni and stepped up to chat for a bit. We informally talked about grandchildren, his work advising on a construction project out of town, and we shared a laugh over a semi-dirty joke I told. As I shook his hand to head toward the door, I smiled and said, “See you soon, my friend.”

A hard-nosed journalist and an elected official I am duty-bound to cover objectively – even any bad news that hopefully will not arise – in my role as editor-publisher of this publication, connecting on a wholly human level, just two guys chatting on a Saturday night in the South. That’s how America is supposed to be.

Praying With ‘The Enemy?’ No… Praying

All of these vignettes unfolded three days after a controversial conservative Christian activist was killed by an assassin’s bullet while hosting a question-and-answer rally in Utah. The very public murder of Charlie Kirk, a man equally revered and reviled by millions across this country, sent shockwaves through the increasingly polarized and vitriolic political landscape in these United States – a nation seemingly “united” only in name but certainly not in principle, rhetoric or action.

The echoes of that bullet slicing through the air in Utah and shattering into human flesh and viscera still ring in the ears of those of us who saw the viral video before we had time to turn our eyes away from the horror. The din of angry words and toxic hate speech continues on television, on social media and talk radio, and on the streets of America where extremists from both the conservative camp and the far-left fringe too often collide.

On Monday night, I traveled to Aiken to attend a prayer vigil hosted by conservative politicians and Christian leaders on a plaza in front of an area bank. So potentially combustible was the event that the bank was deliberate about issuing a statement saying it did not sponsor or officially host the event. (Business is business after all, and both liberal and conservative money are welcome at that financial institution.) Personally, I didn’t attend to show my allegiance to any particular “tribe.” I went to pray.

Though I am bound by the Journalists Code of Ethics to aim for objectivity in my news reporting here (if not in my written commentary, in which opinions are allowed as long as it’s labeled as such), it is no secret to anyone that I am not strictly a conservative. I am something of a political “Heinz 57,” an ideological mutt – a fiscal conservative who loathes inflation and higher taxes, a social liberal who supports gay marriage and women’s healthcare freedom, a faithful Christ follower with Muslim and Buddhist friends whose beliefs I respect, and a proponent of both a strong military and universal healthcare for all.

Above all else (except my faith, which is uppermost in my life), I am a human being, imperfect and flawed, and so I attended the Aiken prayer vigil with hundreds of fellow imperfect human beings. I stood and prayed with people with whom I disagree on so many issues because I love my country, I hate divisiveness and I believe in the power of unity and our shared humanity.

Can We Focus On Our Shared Humanity?

The killing of Charlie Kirk, a hero to many and a villain to many, was not just the senseless act of taking the life of a political figure; it was the murder of a husband and a father. It was an assault on all people who love peace, even though Kirk had gained millions of followers for disrupting peace with his polarizing views. The conciliatory tone and words from those who prayed in Aiken gave me genuine hope that we are approaching a day of reckoning when peace and love are the norm, not merely a passing gesture.

I will attend another prayer vigil on Wednesday night here on the Square in Edgefield in my official capacity as a professional journalist. I will take photos and film video, and I will interview participants — even any protesters who might show up. Also, and most importantly, I will pray.

It is my sincere hope that both conservatives and liberals in this county will peaceably attend the Edgefield prayer vigil with a true spirit of community and a genuine desire for peace and understanding. It is my earnest prayer that something meaningful will come out of that evening, something that reminds us that though we may have deep ideological differences, we possess a common trait: our shared humanity.

I sincerely believe there is enough goodness and light and love and respect still alive in Edgefield County that I will be able to walk off the Square and head home to file my story Wednesday night having said once again, “That’s how America is supposed to be.”