The Coonridge Digest: Success in pullin’ our national ox out of the mud?

Greetings from the Ridge.

My friend Hilda is case study in denial.

Hilda, like so many of us, has waged a lifelong war of the waistline, and in recent years she’s become convinced that she can lose weight eating anything she wants as long as she puts it on top of a salad.

Lard-fried chicken strips will immediately be sucked dry of their caloric content if carefully placed on top of a bowl of lettuce.

Artery-clogging goat cheese is rendered impotent when slathered in enough tomatoes and coleslaw. A cucumber can single-handedly turn fried shrimp into a weight watchers salad garden of Eden.

And any meal — lasagna, fettuccine, prime rib — will immediately shrink to low-cal status if washed down with copious amounts of Diet Coke.

Frankly, I have no idea who Hilda thinks she’s kidding when her bathroom mirror reveals the truth every morning. I guess it’s a way of life for her. Denial is a tricky master.

I had a cousin Ervin who was an idiot. I mean, everybody in the world knew he was an idiot, but Ervin didn’t have a clue. And there was absolutely no reason for this because we often told Ervin that he was an idiot. Oh, you might think this rash and insensitive, but Ervin was a lawyer and so it should have been his job to know better. But he didn’t. He was the worse kind of idiot — an uninformed idiot. Denial.

It’s been our distinct displeasure during this campaign season to see our entire nation wallowing in the muddy water of denial. I’ve always been puzzled by the purely American dictum that "The two things I don’t talk about are my politics and religion," when those are perhaps the two most vital things in our existence. Good grief! What are we afraid of? I’ll tell you — if we discuss either one we’ll have to justify the way we believe and for most folks that’s akin to public bathing. There are certain things we’d rather not have exposed to the air.

But if someone is so bold to tell you how they’re going to vote, that’s when the denial bug will start causing them to scratch. Wendell Walker works at our local hardware store and his car is literally covered with McCain stickers. I have no idea how the man sees to back up. And I figured that anyone so blatant with his choice of presidential candidate wouldn’t mind discussing it. I said, "Wendell, why are you voting for McCain?"

"Freida, I don’t discuss such things."

"What do you mean you don’t discuss it? Your Toyota is a mobile billboard for the man. Surely you’ve got reasons. I mean, I assume you’re not just covering up a shoddy paint job."

"That’s my own business, Freida."

"Why? Are you ashamed of it?"

"It’s private."

"Like sex?"

"Let’s just say that he beats the heck out of the alternative."

"Sex?"

"Candidate."

"Wendell, I’ve got an open mind! I might be an undecided voter. If you really believe in your man then convince me! Maybe I’ll vote with you!"

"Oh, I’ve got my reasons, but they’re personal."

Good grief.

Mindy Parsons, our neighbor girl, is about to vote in her first election. I asked her how she was going to vote. She didn’t miss a beat in proclaiming, "For Obama!"

"Really? Why?"

"Because he’s cool, Freida!"

"Cool? That’s it?"

"Yea! He’s cool!"

"You’re voting for a man to fill the most powerful office in the world because he’s cool?"

"Yeah! Isn’t that great?"

I think I almost liked Wendell’s non-answer better.

I hope the best candidate wins. I hope he’s unbelievably successful in pulling our national ox out of the mud. But for this to happen, I hope the voters of our nation base their choice on real issues, real values, and not the inflated claims of negative ads. If we think we’re an informed electorate yet choose our leaders to personal prejudice or "That’s the way I always vote," then we’re not truly deliberating, we’re not discerning, we’re denying the facts. We’re lathering the ranch dressing of laziness on the lettuce of good sense. We’re in denial.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.