She was doing a project for school. Find someone (not a parent) from a different generation, and ask them a series of specific questions. What is one major, historical event that had a changing impact on your life? What is one significant change that has occurred in society over your lifetime? These were a few of the dozen or so questions that she had to ask.
We both knew who she was going to interview - Grandpa. Grandpa had opinions on everything and wasn't shy to share them. Her answers had to be detailed and thorough, so he was the perfect choice. "You'd better get comfortable," I told her. "You may be on the phone a while."
She refilled her water bottle and found a nice place to sit down with her notepad and pen. "Mom, can I call him on speakerphone?" she asked. "Because I can't write as fast as Grandpa can talk, and I don't want to miss anything. If you hear too, you can help me."
I assured her that I would remember what I could, given my aging brain, and she made the call. It was interesting. It was long. It was detailed and thorough. She got what she needed and was almost ready to hang up when she noticed one final question on the back of the paper her teacher had handed out. "Wait!" she chirped, "one last question." Grandpa silently waited for her to speak.
"What are your fears about the society in which I am growing up?" Rylee and I looked at each other. We both knew the conversation was going to continue for another hour. It was silent on the other end of the phone, as he thoughtfully considered his answer.
"People don't talk anymore," he said softly. In my head I could picture him staring off in reflection. We waited.
"It used to be that if two people disagreed about something, they'd discuss it. We'd go out for a beer and talk about our opinions. Religion, race, gay, straight, Republican, Democrat, it used to be okay to disagree. You'd sit down and make your case. Sometimes they would end up changing their mind; sometimes you'd end up changing yours. But more often than not, you would shake hands and agree to disagree."
"Society today seems determined to destroy anyone who has a different opinion. If you don't agree with someone, you attack. They get 'cancelled'. You destroy them," he paused again. "It's sad. It's sad to think that you're going to grow up in a world where you're made to believe that if people don't agree with you, they are bad people."
It wasn't the response we expected. We both expected to hear a litany of complaints about the government, rap music or the typical "walking to school, uphill both ways". This was shorter, simpler, more profound. We were all quiet. On the other end of the line, I heard a slight tremor in his voice. "It's sad," he said again.
We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone. She got an 'A' on her assignment. She's a very good writer. The next day, someone sent me a picture of the sign outside of a church somewhere in the mid-west. It simply read, "Love everybody. I'll sort them all out later. - God".
I thought of Grandpa.
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