By Whitney Peckman

Dear Neighbor,

The vision of America, in the past, has been one of fairness, opportunity, universality, everything you need to know you learned in kindergarten; play fair, share, work hard, be honest, be grateful and believe in goodness. That vision transcends political, religious and ethnic/racial boundaries.

That is the ideal that we, as a country, thought we were living up to until we learned in so many ways that we were not. We learned that we were falling far short. That eye opener came in many voices, uncovering so much that shocked us, that made us wonder, and then ask “How did that happen? How did we get here?”

We shouted it over and over. And as we shouted, we simply, collectively, slipped farther away from the vision; away from what we thought we were — as a people, as individuals.

As we fell from grace, tumbling further into despair, we became fearful that we were not getting all that we deserved, all we were entitled to, and sure that “the other” was taking it from us. We grew more and more suspicious and strident, more willing to take up the cudgel, while voicing our bitter rancor. The centrifugal force of that deep-seated ill will made us ugly and hateful. It squeezed us so tightly that we ceased to hear our children laugh, the birds sing; so tightly that the band of tension around our heads caused us to regurgitate the malicious, suspicious language with which we had consciously and unconsciously filled our brains. What we heard, we became.

Today, it seems we have been graced. We have been offered an opportunity to find ourselves again. And to feel joy. We can once again seek — not claim, because we are not far enough yet — but seek the ideal of a nation of equal rights for all people. We, who live in this wealthiest of nations, who were born and raised here, we who chose this land and came to share our skills to build a better future for our children, we have the opportunity to look deeply into our hearts and answer some questions; When will I have enough? How much is enough? And, why do I fear not having enough?

Is it because you’ve heard stories of others coming to take what’s yours? Are they really? Or are you just afraid and suspicious? Do you spread fear by passing on warnings of unreal coming disasters to others so they are fearful and suspicious ? Yes, if you are afraid, you make me afraid. And what kind of country are we making if we are all afraid and suspicious of each other? We cannot begin to recreate a joyful, welcoming country if we do not begin again to smile at strangers, to hold a door open, to share our goodness, our skills, our ideas, our selves.

Our political choices this November call for us to choose between fear and joy, between isolation and community. I want to recall our joy and gratitude at being born in this country.

“Dear Neighbor” authors are united in a belief that civility and passion can coexist. We believe curiosity and conversation make us a better community.