Buckle Up

The speedometer leapt higher each time I glanced from the back seat to my father’s hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. Rain pelted the car, the windshield wipers barely kept pace. The Holiday Inn was still an hour away on the I-29. Flashes lit the night sky and I could see a cloud to the west dropping down to the earth. Each strike sent the cloud lower and our speed higher. The static on the radio cleared after a roll of thunder. We could hear his speech in those intervals and his voice rang true. At 12 years of age I knew I liked him. A tornado chased us to Mankato, Minnesota. But I felt safe. My dad was at the wheel and Jimmy Carter was President.

Growing up Canadian I thought America was 10 foot tall corn stalks, parades, and people who graciously fed and charmed us because, well, they just did. At home, my country paled in comparison but through the window of our Chevrolet station wagon, a drive west served up the Rockies, totem poles, oil rigs, salt mines, and farm fields that rolled out from the sky. I saw through other’s eyes my identity: the Canuck, the fearless warrior, loyal, fair, just. My image of nationhood was filled with spectacles of nature, monuments, and tales of bravery; middle school textbook snapshots. Rhetoric.

With the ‘greatest nation in the world’ as your neighbour you tend to pay attention to it. Growing up in the 70’s and 80’s meant watching American media, following its politics, sometimes getting the feel of things from Saturday Night Live. Investigative journalism set the bar high. American socio-political programming and news broadcasts filled our home; the ticking stopwatch of Sunday’s 60 Minutes drew us from kitchen table to living room to hear about the truth and how people were striving to capture it. A reminder that it was the goal, to live in truth. At least, as a kid I thought so.

Through the 70’s oil crisis, middle east crisis, I believed Carter when he spoke. His words came from a place of reflection and self-awareness. He thought. Jimmy Carter had roots founded in Christianity but embodied something much more profound. I’m not sure what to name something deeper than faith but could it be he recognized our shared humanity? That he let our collective spirit drive his actions?

Today I scan the American political horizon, look to the towers of Ottawa and the dying oil-based economy of Alberta. All around me rhetoric, divisiveness. We need to be more like Jimmy Carter. We need to think, critically. We need to be more selfless. We need cohesiveness.

Our own political state in Canada is less than inspiring. While people Fuck Trudeau and pundits joust about, dark clouds gather. We hear talk of democracy at risk of failure. The far left and the far right equally destabilizing our world. It can all feel overwhelming. But this feels familiar to me.

I read this weekend that Carter was elected with a mandate to rebuild trust in America after the Vietnam War and the Nixon scandal. I smiled when I read that. It gave me hope. A peanut farmer from Georgia lead the most powerful nation in the world, negotiated peace, and lived by example. He challenged, if not changed, our mindsets about humanity. Carter's life embodied justice. Ours can too, in the simplest ways. And that’s democracy. It isn’t going away anytime soon.

My dad taught me to drive. Carter's life showed me strength and faith in humanity. There is indeed a storm brewing. Grab the wheel.