How to Talk to Your Cousins About Politics

So I came up with this idea- "How to talk to your cousins about politics" and i thought, "Oh that's a good title!"

But...yeah.

I rarely talk to my cousins about politics. On either side of the family.

I wish I could.

With relatives spread out from northern Alberta to the B.C. coast to the Maritimes to the U.S., and with the older generation all gone, I rarely see my cousins face to face. But we are connected through social media and I love seeing that this little cousin is an amazing skier, this one won a figure skating medal, this one just got a driver's licence and this one has a new horse and the other one is a fantastic baker and this bunch ran an impressive cross-country race and this one just moved to another province. It keeps me connected with people I almost never see. It keeps my ties with our shared history alive.

But as far as politics goes? That is more complicated.

There are a handful that I see eye-to-eye with. Ironically or perhaps not, the ones closest to me in age who were also closest to me growing up are the ones I tend to agree with the most. But then there are the others.

I know some of them stopped following me on Facebook after an election campaign a few years ago. If they didn't ditch me then, they for sure did after the following election.  Or maybe I stopped following them. Let's just say things were seen that cannot be unseen. Things were said that cannot be taken back. Like the cousin who threatened to go to a neighbour's house and burn an offending lawn sign to the ground. How can I not help but wonder-had we lived in the same town- would he have come to my house and burned the same sign on my lawn?

So- even if we didn't stop following each other, for the most part we have an unstated agreement that we won't talk about these differences of opinion. We'll just go on pretending they don't exist. Which is hard for me as someone who cares about facts and truth and whose whole work life has been dedicated to teaching.

So when one cousin said, "What does our elected leader know, he was just a teacher?" That's a tough one to ignore. My grandmother was a teacher and so were aunts, great aunts, uncles, other cousins, my husband, my son-in-law...and me. I know teachers are highly organized, hardworking, compassionate, and intelligent. They have worked with people of all ages and in all walks of life. How can anyone say a teacher couldn't have the skills to lead? 

And there's the rub. That grandmother. Those and aunts and uncles. That DNA that makes me loathe to cut off my own flesh and blood. No matter what I believe to be true.

No, I don't agree with my cousins on a lot of things. But we are still family. I care about my relatives even when I don't agree with them. The relationship I have with my cousins, no matter how infrequently I see them, matters to me. 

Is there a way to talk to them, and to other people with whom I disagree without it causing a permanent rift in our connection? Is there a way to share what I know to be true? 

I listened to a musician a little while ago who said that in today's society we do not have a place where the young and the old come together. He asked "How can we think about the future if we don't know the past and how do we talk about the past without an eye to the future?" The wise elders in my family are gone. I'm now part of the oldest generation in my family but I'm not sure what wisdom I have to share except to say that my cousins and I have a connection to a shared past and- as Canadians and global citizens- a shared future. How can we move forward if we can't talk about what we believe? How do we work together to map out the best possible future for our descendants to share?  

I don't talk to my cousins about politics but I hope that conversation can begin. That we can come to a place where we can talk about our truths with love and understanding. Because it is only at the intersection of love and truth that there will be hope.

Meaning of Life, Meaning in Death

Why am I alive? What is the purpose of my existence?

Decades ago I had a boyfriend that I broke up with. He became suicidal, calling me relentlessly. He said he’d always thought he was a worthless person and my leaving him just confirmed that. He had no reason to live now he knew he was unlovable. Friends tried to help. He sought counselling, His therapist said only he could give himself meaning in his life. He said she was useless.

A few years later my husband and I worked in the far north. There had been something like 10 suicides of young men in the past year-in a town of 450 people. Suicide is rampant in indigenous communities. There are many reasons, but many people just feel lost. They feel their lives are meaningless.

A family member went through this same existential angst as a young man. He became obsessed with dying. He kept asking what was the point of living? Why was he born? If we are all just going to die anyway, what is the point in being alive? What was the purpose of his life?  Why wouldn’t he just end everything? I could not answer him. Instead I said most of us don’t have an answer to that question. We work and take care of ourselves and our families and we just don’t think about it. Maybe meaning will come with time. When you have a job or a family. Or maybe you’ll just stop thinking about it. Or maybe it's a simple as the line from a movie I once saw- everyone needs three things in life: something to do, someone to love and something to look forward to.

Many of my friends are recently retired. They got a lot of meaning from their work. Now it’s gone. Others are experiencing the empty nest. Their kids gave them meaning. Now they are gone. Many find themselves with great emptiness in their lives with nothing to fill the sense of purpose that work and family provided.

Dr. Clay Routledge, a behavioural therapist, notes that suicide rates have risen by 25% in the U.S. since 1999. He suggests that we all search for meaning in our lives. Without it, people turn to substance abuse and become depressed and suicidal. He says as humans, we seek significance. “We want lives that matter.” We have lost the all-important sense of belonging in our detached societies and belonging gives us meaning.

What is the meaning of life? Some people find an answer to that question in religion. Their purpose is whatever they believe God’s purpose to be. For the rest of us, it’s harder. We go through the motions of living. We try to do good and not bad. e try to do the right thing. But if you are like me, that’s a question you sweep into the furthest recesses of your mind because you cannot answer it. Thinking about it drives you crazy.

Why am I thinking about the meaning of life?

Because last week a man killed himself on the steps of the legislature.

Why?

Did his life have meaning? Did his death?

The media has been largely silent. The government offered the overly simplistic “If you are struggling, talk to someone” line. Social media commentary was all “don’t politicize this tragedy”. Until The Star told his story. Ken Chan was a good man who served our nation in the military for 25 years. A helpful man. A wonderful husband and stepdad. Who knows what trauma led him to take his own life? Was it witnessing the horrors of war? Was it a loss of meaning? Whatever it was, he wanted meaning in his death. He sent emails asking that attention be paid to Medically Assisted Dying. He had known people who suffered from chronic disease and wanted to end their lives with dignity. Conscience rights were being debated in the parliament buildings behind him as he pulled the trigger. If he felt he had no purpose, no meaning in life, he sought meaning in his death.

We should honour that wish.

Radicalized Ideologue

I’m a retired Social Studies teacher, a third generation public school teacher who lives in a modest house in a modest neighbourhood in a modest town. I go on modest holidays in my modest trailer. I’ve been married to the same man for almost 35 years- together we raised three kids who went to public school and public university  and now live their own lives. I belong to a book club, pay my taxes, shovel my walk, clean up after my dogs, donate to charity and volunteer. 

I have never thought of myself as a radical.

In fact, I’m so normal, I bore myself.

And speaking of normal, our banker once told us that loans officers love to see teachers come in. Especially teachers married to other teachers. Why? Because they are so reliable. So predictable. So careful with their money. They never default on loans. 

Teachers tend to be conventional. One might even say that most teachers' careers are all about promoting and maintaining the status quo. Sure, we try to raise up those who are struggling or marginalized. But we are just raising them up far enough to enjoy the status quo themselves. We might try to change one kid's world but we aren't trying to change the whole world.

But now Alberta's teachers are being told we are radicalized ideologues who are trying to indoctrinate students.

Sure.

Yeah.

Ok.

If believing kids should be treated equitably makes me a radical; if trying to teach them to think for themselves makes me a radical; if believing society should be a place where everyone belongs makes me a radical; if teaching kids to care about the land makes me a radical; if getting kids to think about the trade offs between prosperity and environmental protection makes me a radical?

Then yes my friends. 

I am not normal.

I am radical as fuck. 

And I make no apologies for that.