𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭

  As most of my contemporaries travel south to escape winter, I, the ever-contrarian, travel north to colder and snowy climates. There is something about winter scenery that I adore. Pine trees covered in snow almost creating a Christmas tree effect on every tree. A blanket of snow as far as the eye can see untouched by cars and plows and human efforts.  There is a sense of clarity about the scenery.  Snow and sky, not a lot gets in the way.

 I have a small cottage in the woods in Northern Michigan.  When you add a wood-burning fireplace to this mix it’s hard for me not to head there the minute I see a big snowfall… It seems I am closer to nature in this snowy wonderland.  Walking in the woods in the fresh snow there is a real silence that makes you focus more on your surroundings.  If I am lucky this silence will be broke by the owl on the property.  The launch from his perch creates an almost thunderous noise as he spreads his wings for lift.  A warning to small and not-so-small beings to stay low.  

Such was the case a few weeks ago. In my excitement, I forgot about the driveway.   If the plows had been by they would have pushed a lot of snow at the entrance of the driveway.   After a 5 hour drive, we were confronted with over 2 feet of snow at the base of the driveway.   I thought to myself all I need to do is get the car far enough up the drive to get off the street.   I backed up and took a good run at the snow bank in my little SUV and only managed to get my car halfway off the street.  I jumped out to survey the situation and I was buried.  For safety, I put on my emergency lights since I was hanging out in the road on a section that had a curve in it. Not a safe place to be for sure.

In the darkness of a country road in Northern Michigan, my flashing lights seemed as bright as an airport beacon. In the middle of processing my options out of nowhere, I heard someone scream my name.   MIKE>>>>>>>.  This call from the darkness was startling.   We both looked around and could not figure out where the call was coming from…. Then I heard this person yell NEIGHBOR.   I see you are hanging out in the road I will be right over.  

I had met Jared once before when I was leaving the house to head out on a bike ride.  He was very nice but would be dammed if I could remember his name as he approached us from his house.  

Hey Mike, let me get my snow blower and I will get you right out.   He walked back to his garage and appeared minutes later and got to work.  We got the car out and he plowed out an area to get the car into.   He then plowed a path up to the house so we could get to the door given all the things that we brought.  He introduced himself to my wife and we thanked him for his help.  He said that’s what neighbors are for don’t mention it.  He disappeared into the night as quickly as he appeared.  The following day when we left for a few hours he plowed the balance of the driveway.    

Mr Kish lives next door to us. He came over shortly after we started our project and he introduced himself and brought a tin of homemade cornbread.  In our family, he would become known as Cornbread Kish.  A term of endearment created by me. We became friends and we would often return this gesture with homemade sourdough bread from 9 Bean Rows bakery in Suttons Bay.    He would visit again when we were building our deck, and he appeared with his homemade Bloody Mary mix and pickles.  

Mr Kish was a staunch Kamala supporter, a rarity in the rural areas of Northern Michigan, and did not hesitate to put several handmade signs in his yard. When I mentioned to him recently that we had supported Kamala as well, he cocked his head and said I saw your Indiana plates and just assumed you were Trump supporters.   To Mr. Kish, I was a neighbor first and foremost.  He assumed I was a Trump supporter but he did not hesitate to show the kindness and care for his neighbor and fellow American.  It would be safe to assume Jared was a Trump supporter, and I think he assumed we were Kamala supporters.  To Jared,  I was a neighbor first and if I was in a jam he was not going to hesitate to do what the now seemingly antiquated code of honor dictated.  If a person is in need and you can help you just do it.  No questions asked.  Your political beliefs, national origin, religion matter not to the old code. 

We have to look no further than ourselves to blame for our current state of affairs in this country.  The middle class was ceded to China, along with the wealth created by that transfer.  China dragged hundreds of millions of people out of poverty and into their middle class by the jobs created in tech and manufacturing. The people of the US, decimated by this disruption and alienation, were furious, and they needed a movement.  The offshoring of manufacturing by large multinational corporations used the veil of a fiduciary to shareholder value to justify this move.  I am not sure this could have been stopped, but it seems that in looking in the rearview mirror now, no one was watching out for the blue-collar people of this country.

Now, add the ceding of humanity and free will over to the big tech companies in the form of social media.  We all now sit in our camps and complain about each other.  I am guilty of this.  To engage with a Trump supporter on politics was a bridge too far for me.  The efforts to divide us have worked, and I have succumbed to exactly what has been in the best interest of the few over the health of the Commonwealth. I  will continue to take my leads from the men in Northern Michigan who put neighbors first.  Maybe if we can start with neighbor first, a conversation starts, and I believe we will find that there is a lot more that overlaps in our concentric circles of core beliefs.  One thing is for sure: the road back to who we were cannot be achieved without playing an active role in understanding the forces that divide us. Instead of scrolling the data on your phone handpicked to keep you away from your humanity look up and see the world and the people that need you to be a neighbor first.

Comments from Readers on my last piece.

Wonderful story, Mike, and thanks for sharing.

I recall somewhat similar experiences riding the 96 and 97 CTA buses while commuting to Sullivan High School in the late 1960s. BTW, at that juncture in history, I’m sure the black bus passenger would have been reticent to lecture any white person (at least on the north side) about courtesy. But alas, chivalry has become nearly nonexistent these days … along with so many other principles and virtues. 😉

Hope you’re doing well.

BE