One of my good friends is a college professor. He and his wife are very liberal, and both are actively involved in Democrat politics at the local, state, and national levels. However, they’re real friends and respect that my wife and I hold very different viewpoints. Their kids went to school with our kids, and there are lots of things we have in common other than politics.
Every year for the past 15 years or so, we’ve been invited to their annual Christmas party. It’s always a festive event with good food and drink, caroling, and lots of holiday cheer. We attend every year unless we’re traveling during the holidays.
At least one hundred people squeeze into the small house, and every guest, other than my wife and I, is apparently liberal!
How do I know this?
Well, every time I’m introduced to another guest, my professor friend always ends the introduction with: “He’s my conservative friend.” Also, as I rove around the house and pick up snippets of conversation from the small groups, they often include words like “white privilege,” “income inequality,” and other progressive themes.
It must have been thirteen years ago, but I remember one of those Christmas parties very well, not for anything special I witnessed or participated in, but for an observation my 9 year-old son at the time made on the way home. My wife and I, our son and 6 year-old daughter had a very nice time, but after a couple of dozen carols later in the evening, it was time to go.
To this day, my wife refers to our son as “the spy” because he notices everything around him.
“You know,” my son said, “I was in the kitchen, and a man pulled a beer can out of the trash. He held it up and yelled out, “Someone threw a can into the trash. There must be a Republican in the room!” My son was puzzled, “What did he mean?”
My wife turned and looked at me suspiciously.
“I was drinking wine,” I countered.
We explained to our son that it was a joke about how liberals believe that conservatives hate the environment and don’t care enough to recycle.
He nodded passively.
I then added, “You know that that’s not true don’t you?”
“I guess,” he said, totally uninterested .
After all these years, I still remember my son’s observation and the impact it might have made on his young mind. Surely, the man who held up the can knew he was amongst friends and felt that he was insulting no one.
And the more I think about it, maybe it is time that I should start recycling! I’ll give it some more thought.
— Mr. Evil