An incident in small town America

The mother wanted her son to exhibit good manners.

It was a scene from "Its a Wonderful Life."

Or maybe the opening scene, with the whistling, from the Andy Griffith Show in small town Mayberry.

The surprise isn't that there is angry crudeness in America. The surprise is that in the realm of politics it is thought so routine, so unexceptional, that it does not register as out of place. There is something going on in America. The GOP is no longer the party of John McCain and Mitt Romney. It is the party of Trump, and he has normalized transgressive in-your-face belligerence. That behavior has trickled down into everyday life of his supporters.

Maybe there is no need to overthink this. Maybe the explanation is as simple as the words on this man's shirt, photographed at a Trump rally.

College classmate Jonathan Taylor had a long career as a professional musician. He also did research for Hunter College and others on test results and admissions policies at competitive high schools and colleges. He related to me a recent incident he experienced when he visited an archetypal small town event, a minor league baseball game on a warm summer evening. 

Here is his story:

Guest Post by Jonathan Taylor

I am in Interlochen, Michigan where I spent four wonderful summers at the National Music Camp while I was in high school. Now, for the third summer, I am attending adult band camp. 

Last night my wife and I went to a Traverse City Pit Spitters baseball game. This is a slice of small-town Americana, nothing like a Mets or Yankees game. It was Polish night and included a buffet of kielbasa, pierogi and other Polish delicacies for those who wanted. Turtle Creek Stadium is small, with seats up close to the field. The players are college students who have the opportunity to use wooden bats instead of the metal bats most of the colleges use and may be hoping to get noticed by major league scouts. Before the Star-Spangled Banner a woman sang the Polish national anthem. Between innings there were dogs catching frisbees and other entertainment. 

A couple with three beautiful young kids sat down behind us. The little boys went up to some other little boys, introduced themselves and shook hands. It was very cute, and I smiled. Their mom who was wearing a MAGA hat, started chatting with me and said she is teaching her kids good manners. The oldest of the boys, who appeared to be about six, was wearing a sweatshirt with a picture of a scowling Donald Trump, middle fingers up, with text that said FU JB. Good manners indeed. 

Readily available in kids' sizes

Yet this was not a nasty woman. She initiated friendly conversation with me; she was not upset that I was from New York City. In fact, she talked about how much she enjoyed visiting New York and did not comment on my t-shirt which said Legalize Marinara. Her husband did not join in the conversation and appeared unfriendly. What I saw was an affable woman, intent on teaching her children to be nice, but who thought nothing of dressing a six-year-old in an offensive, nasty sweatshirt. I wondered what she told her son FU JB stood for, and what his understanding was of the middle fingers, and how she reconciled this message with the value of niceness she was trying to instill. 

It reminded me of the 1956 election, when I was six years old, and the little boy next door who was a classmate, went around singing, “Whistle while you work. Stevenson’s a jerk. Eisenhower has the power. Whistle while you work.” Admittedly, this is a small sample, but is indicative of the evolution of acceptable discourse in the past 67 years- from calling the opponent “a jerk,” to “FU JB.”

And by the way, the Pit Spitters beat the Rockford Rivets 4-2, and are now in the Northwoods League Playoffs.

[Note: To get daily delivery of this blog to your email go to: https://petersage.substack.com and subscribe. The blog is free and always will be.]