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LETTERS FROM BOBOLINK FARM
By Barbara Tatham Johnson

 


NOTES FROM THE HINTERLAND

THE UNITED STATES OF BUBBLE-LAND

By Laurie Meunier Graves

Not long ago at a meeting in town, I was talking to a woman I know. She has young children, whom she homeschools, and the whole family is very religious and conservative. Needless to say, when a liberal woman has a conversation with a woman who is a conservative Christian, the path is littered with potential minefields and pitfalls. Many topics must be avoided, from President Bush to the environment to gays in the clergy. It’s also best to steer clear of the Harry Potter books, with their emphasis on witches and wizards, and I wasn’t about to get into either SpongeBob SquarePants or The Fairly Odd Parents. However, I figured that Disney, with its cheesy, simplistic approach to the classics, would be safe territory. But I figured wrong.

“We don’t let the children watch Disney,” she informed me. “And, of course, we don’t let them watch television.” I just nodded, deciding to heed Gandalf’s advice to Pippin in the movie version of The Return of the King: “Maybe it’s best if you don’t speak at all.” (Or something close to that.)

I started thinking about those children, homeschooled and isolated from all but their like-minded peers, with no snake-in-the-grass young riffraff to corrupt them with the temptations of the big world. No Saturday morning cartoons, no waiting anxiously for the latest movie, no trips to the store for movie action figures. The only reality these children get is their parents’ reality, tightly controlled. After all, how else can the flock stay together? And stay together it does. I remember reading in the New York Times Magazine that children with conservative Christian parents tend to become conservative Christian adults. With such firm supervision, the outside world doesn’t intrude until the children have become thoroughly instilled with their parents’ unyielding philosophy.

That mother and her children put me in a position that I never thought I would find myself in. That is, as a defender of popular culture. After all, I’m the one who watches little besides PBS, who has never seen one single episode of Survivor, and who has relied on friends to confirm my suspicions that Desperate Housewives is a complete waste of time. In my life, there have been no Hill Street Blues, no CSI, no Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (However, I will admit to having watched a few episodes of Lost and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Both were entertaining enough but ultimately couldn’t hold my attention.) I’m the one who prefers the small private restaurants to the big chains. I’m the one who uses Wal-Mart as a last resort and even then with a guilty conscience. I’m the one who looks forward to winter, when I have the time to watch Book TV on C-SPAN 2. In short, I am a pinhead and have been since I was a teenager.

Yet, yet, and yet. My husband and I let our children, in limited doses, watch the cartoons and the television shows of their time. I took them to the He-Man movie, which, as my youngest daughter joyfully observed, was like one big television show. Yes, it certainly was, but even so, her enthusiasm made me smile. My daughters had Strawberry Shortcake dolls, Star Wars figures, and, of course, spin-offs from the aforementioned He-Man. As they grew older, they moved on to other shows and other movies that were firmly a part of the popular culture.

On the other hand, my husband and I read aloud to our children every night, and we made our way through such great children’s classics as Little Women, Charlotte’s Web, and The Hobbit. We took them to plays, and when they were quite young, they saw many of Shakespeare’s. We listened to classical music. We listened to pop and to rock ’n’ roll. We even went to the opera a few times. What this all boils down to is that my children were exposed to a broad range of things—age appropriate, of course—that came from our culture, the past and the present. They experienced the highbrow, the middlebrow, and the lowbrow, and I can’t help but think that this range represents the many aspects of the human condition, which in turn has helped them become thoughtful, discerning adults, alert and open to the wider realities of life.

Conversely, it seems to me that for their children, the conservative Christians are creating a United States of Bubble-Land, a utopian fantasy based on the desire for absolutes and the wish to deny everything that doesn’t match rigid religious beliefs. In Bubble-Land, evolution doesn’t exist. In Bubble-Land, environmental regulations are evil. In Bubble-Land, the meek most certainly do not inherit the earth, and the poor get what they deserve. In Bubble-Land, Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction and was in thick with the terrorists who crashed into the World Trade Towers. Perhaps he even considered flying one of the planes.

In about fifteen years, the young residents of Bubble-Land will become adults, and because of the fecundity of their parents, there will be a lot of them. Not a majority, perhaps, but enough to make a real impact that will be difficult to check. Then what? For clues, we need look no further than President Bush, who, no matter where he goes, resides in his own sort of Bubble-Land. (Indeed, in today’s New York Times [August 17], columnist Maureen Dowd referred to President Bush as “the Boy in the Bubble,” a synchronistic idea that seems to be spreading among certain journalists. My idea for this essay came well before I read her piece.)

In Iraq, we have seen the results of Bubble-Land thinking: almost 2000 dead Americans, many more dead Iraqis, a country that has become, since the U.S. invasion, a magnet for terrorists, and a nation on the brink of civil war. Similar examples can be shown on almost every front, domestic as well as foreign. To paraphrase an editorial comment from the New York Times: Because Mr. Bush fails to see and acknowledge the facts, he fails to respond appropriately.

Gandalf, from The Lord of the Rings, was full of pithy sayings, and he stated, “Not even the very wise can see all ends.” That might be true, but it’s also true that the wise can see more than the rest of us. In addition, it’s not unreasonable to expect our leaders to possess at least some wisdom so that they can chart an intelligent course for this country to follow, a course based on the way the world is rather than on the way it is fitfully dreamed, willfully askew, dangerously wrong.

I try not to think about a country run completely by residents of Bubble-Land. Such a country wouldn’t remotely resemble the country I grew up in, a country with optimism and vitality. In fact, if allowed to have their way, the Bubble-Landians would cause the United States to lose its edge, especially in science and math, subjects that seem to be anathema to the Christian conservatives. America would not be the place where everyone yearns to come. Instead, it would be a place to avoid, a dark intolerant place of repression and hardship.

All of these ruminations make me glad I live only six hours away from Canada, home of my forebears. Who knows? The time might come for a reverse migration, to retrace their steps back to either Québec or to Prince Edward Island.

By now, readers might be shaking their heads and thinking I am overreacting. I hope I am. But consider this: in the 1970s, the women of Afghanistan were wearing miniskirts, drinking wine, and dancing with men. We all know what happened twenty-five years or so later, and it can happen anywhere. The change can come quickly, making the bright promise of a liberal, open society seem like a distant dream, as unsubstantial as a Disney movie. 

 


 


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