My relationship with my big idiot brother is long and complicated. We shared a bedroom from the day I was born until the day he bought a house. He is a good person, a great father and a hard worker. He's a man of few words but with a sharp wit. He's economically and politically conservative, which is far and away the widest chasm between us.
My big idiot brother's not a conservative who talks about family values anymore than I am a liberal who talks about safe spaces. As far as I can tell, he prefers to pay as few taxes as possible and does not believe that government can have any positive influence in his life, which is a particular irony as he is a federal employee. He's certainly not a fan of people with pigmented skin to any degree, though perhaps by my own delusion, I have always felt that he talks up this part of his neurosis simply to get under my pale skin -- that is, I believe my big idiot brother's cynicism to be generalized rather than segregated. My big idiot brother would without hesitation give me or my family anything we needed, but he is suspicious of charitable works for the poor and decries the toxicity of "hand-outs". My big idiot brother cannot stand to watch an animal suffer and donates to the humane society frequently, but is not convinced by the evidence of climate change. If I mount a cogent argument on the scientific data supporting the human etiology of climate change, he simply retreats to a trope, a meme or a vague allusion to me acting like various dysfunctional members of our family to end the discussion. My big idiot brother is a good soul encased in an impenetrable fortress of nihilism.
My big idiot brother is my narrow focus as I try to understand my country at large. While tomorrow, January 20th, will be a day of trepidation for me (not loathing -- I am genuinely trying not to loathe tomorrow), I really don't know what the day will be like for my big idiot brother. I don't think he can feel happiness in the context of politics. I don't think my big idiot brother feels happiness in much else other than his children and the White Sox. As I texted my big idiot brother a few weeks ago, "Sometimes it seems to me that you just want to see it all burn. And that concerns me." He didn't respond.
I watch the Cubs play baseball and I see joy taken in playing a beautiful game. I listen to Patty Smith sing, and I hear energy and advocacy. President Obama speaks and I see faith in liberal democracy's mission and hear the inherent goodness of humanity. And then I turn elsewhere and see ugliness, hear cacophony and feel nothing.
And yet I long so very badly to understand them.
As the man who rocked the Dad jeans at the All-Star Game departs for a much deserved furlough, I seek someway to honor him and at the same time uplift my own sagging spirits. If only there was something that combined Dad jeans, Dad dance moves and uplifting lyrics!
Yes I did!