Raising a Civil Child in an Uncivil World

Soccer Balls and Gadgets

I am flying solo DC to SFO with Anisa this weekend. And we are on our own all of next week while Toya is on the East Coast. Thoughts and prayers welcome.

Also, according to my sisters-in-law, I am the “Black Wife Effect” thing. Which I am going to take as a compliment.

Anisa’s first trip to Salinas included a trip to my fave eating spot: The Bagel Bakery

I don’t remember the name of the dim midtown Manhattan bar; we all know the name of the person I was there to meet.

It was early 2010, and I was a small part of the immigration movement trying to find a path forward on one of the most contentious issues of our time. My goal was to find any and all allies.

I was, as a colleague put it, “Fearless.” Or, as I look back, delusional.

Which is why I was in Manhattan drinking gin and tonics with Lou Dobbs.

See, in November of 2009, after years of anti-immigration ranting, CNN had fired Dobbs. Of course, the immigration advocacy world was thrilled to have who we believed to be the driving force of the anti-immigrant movement off the airwaves.

I don’t remember what led me to track Dobbs down. There was something that gave me a sense he might be open to a different conversation. And, after those drinks, we were in fairly regular communication. So much so that when he got his new show on Fox Business, I had a weekly slot to talk immigration solutions. He even sat for an I interview for my first book (and plugged it on his show).

Did any of this make a difference in terms of a better immigration debate? Not likely.

I am thinking about Dobbs because, in the middle of the craziest news cycle of our time, he died. I am not here to speak ill of someone who passed. Nor am I going to say he was a great person. But I did get to know him a little bit. Right or wrong, he didn’t like how the country was changing. We didn’t agree on much of anything. But I got a slightly better understanding of how he saw the world.

In 2010, we were a deeply polarized nation. Obviously, we remain one. So I wonder, in today’s America, would I reach out to Lou Dobbs again?

I think I would. (See, delusional, above.)

There is no way to sit and understand somebody without sitting and listening to somebody. It is harder now; it may even be more dangerous - politically and physically. But it cannot be replaced. These experiences make us more human, more civil.

As Anisa grows up, what will it take to raise a civil child in an uncivil world? Will there be opportunities for Baby Girl to sit and learn from people unlike her? Will it place her in danger’s way? Will it be worth it?

I don’t know.

I’ll be honest, that makes me sad.

Soccer Balls and Gadgets

After eight days spraying golf balls across the Ireland countryside, I pulled the transit van around the curve and into the Radisson Hotel parking lot. I noticed a gaggle of kids playing on the lawn and a rack filled with children’s bicycles.

Didn’t really think anything of it. Since the hotel was a five minute walk from the airport, I figured it was a nice little waypoint for families (as well as crappy golfers) to stay a night before an early flight.

Checked in and as I walked to the back patio to enjoy one last Guinness I passed a large conference room that was filled with kids. And moms. And very few dads.

As I watched a group of kids gleefully kick a soccer ball around the lawn, I was struck by their comfort in the space. And how a handful of moms sat at the other patio tables. This was not the first time those moms sat that patio, watching their kids play on that lawn. Nobody was going anywhere anytime soon.

Two women sat at the table behind me, nursing beers, sharing a plate of pickled fish. It was happy hour catch up.

“Excuse me,” I asked, “Where are you from?”

With the slightly pained look of always answering questions, she said, “Ukraine.”

I didn’t want to press and something may have been lost in translation: She had been at the hotel (or in the city) for two years. At one point, she said, there were 200 Ukrainian families in the hotel. Now there were about 80. Those who had left had found jobs, housing, hosts elsewhere in Ireland.

She remained in the hotel, with her teenage daughter. Her brothers and husband remained in Ukraine.

“Are they safe?”

A grimace.

“How is your daughter doing?”

A tight smile.

“She is a teenager,” holding her hands as if she was holding a phone, “Always on her gadget.”

After an amazing, over the top, vacation, it was a five minute conversation that brought me back to reality.

War is a cruel, awful, thing. At this hotel, hundreds of families had been pushed some 3,000 kilometers to the west. Who knows what will happen to the men who remain in Ukraine. Who knows what will happen to that mom and her teenage daughter - and the hundreds of other Ukrainian families - in Ireland.

For the time being, gadgets and soccer balls bring a sense of joy to their young lives. Which brings a sense of relief to their parents.

But Ireland, like so many other countries around the world, is experiencing a backlash.

Earlier this summer, The Guardian reported, “Intimidation of elected representatives has spread, creating a perilous environment for candidates and canvassers.” The pattern being, “Locals complain about lack of consultation and amenities, outside agitators arrive, protests escalate, then arson is committed.”

And, although far-right candidates have struggled to get elected, “They have set the agenda,” as Ireland has started to tighten asylum policies. Which brings me back to Lou Dobbs and the fear that drove him.

My gin and tonics with Dobbs could not have been more different than my Guinness with the mom from Ukraine. Fear leads to anger which, too often, leads to something worse.

I hope the aspirations of that mom from Ukraine shapes the world Anisa grows up in.

Watching

An Irish bloke recommended Kin. Made for a good Trans-Atlantic flight binge.