Station Eleven: A Reflection

I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly materialistic person. I didn’t own an iPod. Never wore a Swatch watch or a pair of Guess jeans. The only jewelry I own is my wedding ring. I still drive a rusty old pickup truck with a carbureted gas engine, a manual transmission, manual locks, manual windows, manual steering, manual brakes, no radio, and no air conditioning. Nevertheless, I have grown accustomed to having some creature comforts in my life, such as the rust-free, newer pickup truck that I also drive; the one with a fuel-injected turbo-diesel engine, an automatic transmission, power locks, power windows, power steering, power brakes, power seats, power mirrors, Bluetooth and satellite radio, and ice-cold, dual-zone air conditioning.

Come to think of it, as I look around my house, I can see that I have grown dependent on more than a few modern conveniences. The laptop computer I’m typing this story on, the iPhone beside me, the TV in front of me, the refrigerator, microwave, air fryer, coffee maker, and oven in the kitchen. Electricity. Indoor plumbing. Flush toilets. The internet. A new central heat and AC unit that cost more than four out of the five vehicles in my family’s fleet.

I suppose I might be slightly materialistic.

I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly trendy person either. Sometimes I’m a little “late to the game” as they say. Last Friday, for instance, I finally sat down to read the dystopian novel “Station Eleven” by Emily St. John Mandel. This extraordinary book was so popular that it won the Arthur C. Clark Award and became the Daniel Boone Regional Library’s “One Read” book back in 2015.

“Station Eleven” is about a virus that wipes out most of the human population on Earth, which causes civilization to completely collapse. Imagine trying to survive in a world with no electricity, no phones, no running water, no hospitals, and no modern transportation. The few remaining people who were spared by the pandemic become mostly nomadic hunter-gatherers who gradually forget what life had been like before the collapse.

Unlike some post-apocalyptic novels, “Station Eleven” is not a gory bloodbath of violence and hopelessness. Although 99.9% of the population dies, the book is not about death. Neither is it simply a story about survival. Instead, the book is about life—and never taking anything in this life for granted.

When was the last time you took a moment to really appreciate all that you have in life? Did you ever ponder the miracle that is your smart phone for example? In order for you to scroll through Facebook on your phone, a lot of things had to happen first. Ben Franklin started thinking about the nature of electricity over two hundred years ago. Society advanced for another hundred years or so before Thomas Edison and Nicola Tesla started thinking about how to harness electricity. Engineers designed coal-fired power plants, which could not have been possible without the discovery of coal and the advent of coal mining first. Hydro-electric dams were also built, which depended on the development of cement and steel technology. Electrical grids, power transmission stations, and light poles were invented and installed in towns and cities throughout the world. 

Marconi and Bell invented and advanced telegraph and telephone technology. Radio waves were detected, studied, and eventually transmitted and received by scientists. The first radios and televisions were developed. Broadcast radio and television stations were built, staffed, and equipped. The space race began. Satellites were designed and rockets and spaceships were built to launch them into Earth’s orbit by some more very smart people. Radio transmissions were sent to the moon and beyond.

Personal computers, cellphones, and the internet were invented. Mark Zuckerberg decided to make an electronic version of college face books that would allow friends to stay in touch online. Social networking using a laptop computer eventually led to development of the Facebook app that you use on your smartphone today thanks to the further development of wireless technology and cellular telephones.

 

When I think about everything that had to happen between Ben Franklin flying his kite in a thunderstorm and me typing this story on my laptop computer, emailing it to my publisher, Gene sending it electronically to the printer, and you reading it after receiving it in your mailbox at the end of your driveway or on your smartphone, I have to admit that the whole thing is pretty miraculous.

 

The miracle of modern technology is something no reader of “Station Eleven” should ever take for granted again. But the author made it clear that those technological miracles were only possible because of the will of the human race. Our capacity to recognize problems and work out solutions to those problems is also miraculous, as is our ability to come together for the benefit of society.

 

Maybe I am a materialist, but at least I’m a materialist who will never again take what the world gives me for granted, including my friends and family, my smartphone, and a pair of Chevy trucks.

Where Are You From?

I was born in Kirksville, Missouri, but lived in the small towns of Canton, Kahoka, and La Plata, Missouri, before starting kindergarten in Clarinda, Iowa. In first grade, I attended schoolin Kirksville. In second grade, I was in La Plata. In third grade, I attended Oakwood Elementary School in Hannibal. In fourth grade, I moved across town and attended Mark Twain Elementary. By the time I was nine years old, I had lived in eight different places. Then my parents got divorced.

While a student at Mizzou, I moved twelve times. Later, after graduating from college, Bethany and I lived with her sister Charla in Liberty, Missouri, for a short time before moving to Muncie, Indiana, for Bethany’s first job as an occupational therapist. After her three-month assignment ended, we moved back to Columbia for a year before buying our first house outside of Hartsburg, MO, in 1999, where we lived for fourteen years. When we outgrew that house, we bought a bigger one just down the road, one with an Ashland address. That is where we have lived ever since.

It's hard to give you a firm number if asked how many places I’ve lived. It’s safe to say that I have moved well over twenty times. The number of addresses I could technically claim to have lived at when counting all of my parents’ moves after their divorce is probably closer to forty.

Although I lived in Hannibal for ten years, I can’t really say I’m “from” Hannibal. My first five years of elementary school were spent in five different elementary schools in four different towns. I was the new kid every year. I wasn’t “from” anywhere. Even after graduating from Hannibal High School, I still didn’t feel fully accepted as a native of Twainland.

 

As is the case in most small towns, if you weren’t born here, you aren’t really “from here”. My bigger-than-life friend/Hannibal native David Arthaud captured that sentiment perfectly when he scared a non-Hannibalian who had had the audacity to chuckle at one of Dave’s jokes at a party. “What are you laughing at?!” Dave yelled as one of his meaty paws clamped down tight on the poor sap’s thigh, “You ain’t one of us!”

I never felt like I truly belonged anywhere—even Hannibal—until sometime around 2011. That’s when I decided to make Hartsburg/Ashland my adopted hometown. I started writing this newspaper column that summer, and in 2012, I began subbing at Southern Boone schools. I also started volunteering with Girl Scouts and Cub Scouts and at the Schools’ Learning Garden. I became the public address announcer for Eagles football and track. I became an ordained minister and started officiating weddings in the area. I even coached a couple of little league baseball teams. Eventually, I felt like I actually belonged here. I was home.

Ashland had become my hometown. Or had it? Ten years ago, I wrote a column about this very subject in which I said the following, “Something has been troubling me lately, however. In the aftermath of the recent school board scandal, I overheard some grumblings that suggested the problems were because of people living around here who weren’t really ‘Ashland people.’While I won’t weigh in on the facts/rumors flying around in the post-Deffenbaugh Letter era, I think equating non-natives with problems in our community is a dangerous precedent to set.”

A decade after the drama surrounding that iteration of the Southern Boone Board of Education caused me to worry about a potential crisis in the making within our community, letters of resignation from current board president Steve Condron and board secretary Amanda Centobie, and the board’s decision to not renew Superintendent Chris Felmlee’s contract, have reignited my concerns.

While following the drama between the current school board and some vocal board critics/candidates, it has become clear to me that the divide I first perceived ten years ago is in fact quite real. There are two types of citizens in Southern Boone County: Those who are “from here” and those who are not. Just like me, Chris, Steve, and Amanda call Southern Boone home, but just like me, they are not native to this area. It is apparent that there is a concerted effort by some Southern Boone natives to take control of the school district in order to promote a return to so-called “Ashland values”.

From my 2012 column: “SoBoCo is a microcosm of America. It is a melting pot. With the possible exception of any Ashland-area Native Americans who may still be living here, the overwhelming majority of area families migrated here from somewhere else. People with a dream of making a better life for their children and for themselves continue to be welcomed to our community year after year. Folks from all walks of life are making our small town a diverse and enlightened one. While uninhibited growth can present problems, Ashland is one of the few towns in Missouri (and possibly the nation) that continues to build new homes, businesses, schools, libraries, and infrastructure despite the national economic downturn, while still maintaining its down-home, farming-community feel.”

Ten years ago, I wrote, “The reason for Ashland’s success: the people. Farmers and entrepreneurs. Young and old. Black, White, Asian, and Hispanic.  Life-long residents and recent transplants. We are all “Ashland people” and I am proud to call Ashland/Hartsburg/Wilton my hometown(s).”

 

Well folks, in 2022 I don’t feel nearly as proud or as optimistic as I did in 2012. And unless the tone of public discourse in Southern Boone County improves quickly and drastically, I will be less inclined to answer “Ashland” when people ask me where I’m from. We must come together as a community and rise above the “othering” of our fellow citizens.

 

If we fail to treat our neighbors with acceptance, love, and respect, then Ashland won’t be my hometown for much longer.

   

Librarians Are Front Line Heroes

There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who value the freedom of speech and those who are threatened by it. The longest running war in history, one that has raged since the advent of the written word, shows no sign of ending anytime soon. I’m referring to the war against free expression waged by power hungry, self-appointed defenders of morality who seek to ban and/or burn books in order to tamp down dissent and maintain control over people whose religion, skin color, political affiliation, nationality, or sexual orientation differs from their own.

As long as there have been books there have been people who feel threatened by the ideas contained within them. Throughout history, books have been banned and burned in an effort to intimidate and frighten people who dare to upset the status quo. Nazis are perhaps history’s most notorious book burners, but they are part of a larger tradition of anti-intellectualism that began long before Hitler lived and will continue as long as deliberate ignorance and bigotry exist in this world.

A Republican Texas State Representative named Matt Krause recently compiled a list of 850 books to ban in schools because he believes they “might make students feel discomfort, guilt, anguish, or any other form of psychological distress because of their race or sex.” It is not known, however, if Krause or others who share his concern about upsetting young children plan to ban traumatizing active shooter drills in schools.

As a teacher, I have read books to young kids that mentioned the horrors of slavery, bigotry, and racism. I have also showed children as young as five years old how to hide from a gunman who is determined to slaughter them. I know, beyond any doubt, which is more psychologically distressful to children.

I find it incredibly ironic that most of the people who are banning and burning books are conservatives who hypocritically decry the evils of “cancel culture” and liberal “wokeness”. Apparently, it is not okay to cancel a white country singer after he drunkenly shouts the N-word at his Black neighbors, but it is perfectly fine to ban books that teach students about the painful history of racism in this country.

A dedicated and fierce group of people have been fighting against the book-banners/burners for ages. These defenders of knowledge and free expression are the true heroes in the war against censorship. We call these noble warriors Librarians. Unfortunately, anti-intellectual book-banners are not the only challenge facing librarians these days. 

Last week, a group of employees of the Daniel Boone Regional Library announced their intent to form a union. A press release explained, “The growing group of staff, librarians and support staff are organizing to secure fair pay, accessible services, advancement opportunities, safer working conditions and a voice when it comes to decisions that affect the library.”

 

The press release included statements from several librarians, including this from Rowan Walsh. “As staff, we’ve experienced so many instances of verbal and physical harassment and discrimination from the public. A lot of these could have been avoided with the right policies in place. But administration continues to respond by doing nothing to keep us safe,” explained Walsh, who works in Circulation at Columbia Public Library.

“According to a letter of intent signed by nearly 50 DBRL employees, organizing efforts began after a small group of them met late last year to discuss the challenges of working as front-line staff during the COVID-19 pandemic. After realizing that the administration had done little to address staff’s longstanding concerns over safety, workers decided it was time to take action and unionize,” the press release went on to say. The new union would cover workers at Columbia Public Library, Callaway County Public Library, Holts Summit Public Library, and Ashland’s Southern Boone County Public Library.

Personally, I support the library employees’ plan to unionize. In an online community letter of support that members of the public can add their name to, the essential functions of librarians are laid out. “At Daniel Boone Regional Library, you might be surprised by all the services our library offers. Our staff helps provide access to rural communities, outreach services to childcares, hospitals and other institutions, educational and leisure programming, and story time for children. We offer printing services and computer help. We teach technology classes that help keep our patrons connected to loved ones. We even help the public apply for passports and provide notary services. Truly, our library is the cornerstone of our community.”

Librarians have long advocated for our rights. Now it’s our turn to advocate for theirs as well. Click on https://www.dbrlworkers.org/community-letter-support to show your support today. 

 

To February 3, and Beyond!

In the 1993 hit comedy “Groundhog Day”, Bill Murray plays TV weatherman Phil Connors, a cynic who becomes trapped in a time loop, doomed to repeat February 2nd over and over again until he can figure out a way to break the cycle and turn the page to February 3. Phil tries everything he can think of to break free, including suicide, but it’s only when he sets aside his selfish desires that he is finally able to move on with his life.

I don’t know about you, but to me the last two years have felt an awful lot like being stuck in a time loop. It seems like the world has fallen into a rut during the pandemic. Millions of people around the world have died of Covid-19, yet day after day, folks continue to have the same arguments about the virus. Covid is real vs. Covid is a hoax. Mask mandates slow the spread of disease vs. Mandatory masking is akin to the Holocaust. Vaccines are safe and effective vs. Vaccines are the government’s way of tracking us. Will these disagreements ever end, and will we ever be able to move on?

As long as we have a fixed mindset, we will never move on.

Covid isn’t the only thing we argue about incessantly. Voting should be easier vs. Voting should be restricted. We should teach kids about the history of race in this country vs. We shouldn’t make white kids feel uncomfortable about the history of race in this country. We should tear down statues of Confederate traitors vs. We should preserve our Southern heritage. The January 6 insurrectionists should be thrown in prison vs. The patriots who took a friendly tour of the Capitol on January 6th are heroes. Why can’t we reach a consensus about these fundamental issues that continue to divide us?

At the local level, we are just as divided. Some folks are upset with the school board for dropping most Covid mitigation measures while others celebrate the lack of mandates as a victory for personal liberty. Individual school board candidates are both vilified and applauded by their neighbors, as is a certain newspaper columnist who writes about the issues affecting our community. How can we get past our differences and break free of this pattern of ceaseless arguing?

We must embrace a growth mindset.

Relief eventually comes to Phil Connors, but only after he spends a great deal of time working on personal growth and becoming a selfless human being. Can we, the people of Southern Boone County, follow Phil’s example and break free from our curse? Are we ready to be better people and place others’ needs before our own? Or when we wake up tomorrow, will we still be stuck in exactly the same rut we are in today?

I am tired of being in a rut, and I am tired of being at-odds with other people. It is truly exhausting. I hate conflict, and when I write about hot-button topics, I dread the inevitable pushback. It would be so much easier if I simply stopped writing about important yet controversial subjects and stuck with funny anecdotes instead. But writing fluff pieces will not help me grow as a person, nor will it help me facilitate my fellow human beings’ growth.

I’m afraid that as long as I have an opinion column in the newspaper, I must continue to occasionally write about things that divide us. My hope is that I might cause a reader to rethink his or her own views, which may help bridge the divide.

Writing (and the deep contemplation that fuels my writing) helps me discover truths about the world and about myself. These discoveries lead to personal growth and a desire to help others grow as well. A growth mindset is the key to moving forward, to February 3rd, and beyond.