What We Want

Sometimes you get what you want.  

Sometimes you don’t.  

This week will hopefully at least put an end to the suspense of which camp we fall into.  Most people I know just want it to be over, want one of the candidates to be declared the next president of the United States. Just put us out of our misery. We’ve already got a lot on our plates with Covid, the economic issues at hand, and the world on fire.  And no matter what the outcome, we all still have a lot of work to do to make this world a better place. 

Twelve years ago I awoke to the news of another presidential election. There was so much news coverage and support for Obama here in Italy, you’d have thought he was running for office here instead of a country an ocean away. 

That day I answered a pre-dawn phone call from my then 17-year-old daughter whose favorite autumn playlist included the musical version of the “Yes We Can” speech. She knew I’d be up, getting ready to go to the port to collect clients for a day’s tour.  

“He did it, mama,” I heard her say, sottovoce, so as not to wake anyone there but still giddy with wonder and amazement. 

Thinking of that sweet voice and the hope it embodied, I drove the van in the dawn light up and over the mountain from Amalfi to the port of Naples and stood with the other drivers waiting for clients to come off the cruise ship.  In this country I’ve come to know, for the most part, as “working class” and specifically the southern part where the “regular guy” is valued, the news of the US election brought a sense of camaraderie and speranza. 

Once my clients saw their name on the sign I was holding, introductions were made and I, showing my best smile and Italian hospitality, quickly got them seated in the van in hopes of getting ahead of the traffic that would soon clog the windy Amalfi Coast drive.  Before we were even able to exit the port, before I could start what I would eventually call my “theater on wheels,” I heard one of the younger 30-somethings of this group from New Orleans say with her southern drawl:

“Well, I guess we gotta fuckin’ n**** for a president.”

I imagine if you’d have been sitting in the passenger seat, you’d have seen me turn pale as a ghost, gripping the steering wheel for dear life, still as a stone, staring straight at the road, speechless.  Like what happens to someone in the movies when they see a monster but have nowhere to run. 

There was no escaping spending the day with these people.  This is not what I wanted, how I would have liked to spend (in my book) such a monumental day. And twelve years ago I had no experience around how to directly confront such a situation.  But they weren’t going to see the Amalfi Coast without me and I wasn’t going to be able to keep my job without them. I could only continue with the tour, hoping as I did with all clients, that they’d learn something from me during our time together that would widen their narrow perceptions of the world.

I kept quiet for those first kilometers, skipping my usual introductory blah blah of the tour.  But professionalism got the better of me, and I slowly made my way into conversation, though tentatively as if I had to be wary that I was at risk of some kind of contagion. 

What I eventually found was that I was having a very normal work day. I shared my stories of Italian life, they shared theirs of lives lived in Louisiana. We talked about recipes, illnesses, music, about work and family. I explained how things worked differently here, they noted how some things were the same where they lived.  

In the end, though they didn’t get who they wanted for president, they got what they wanted in terms of a tour: beautiful scenery, good Italian food, good local wine, a bit of Italian history and culture (maybe some slanted just a bit to illustrate what an inclusive society can look like), and they got back to the ship on time.  Did they learn anything? I don’t know. 

Me? I left the port anxious to talk with that hopeful 17-year-old daughter of mine. But I also left with a bit of a wider perspective myself. I’d learned that these people and I were more alike than different, which gave me pause.

It seems like these days, no one knows how to heal the divide we see everywhere in the world. The differences just seem too hard to embrace.  

Maybe we just need to try to see where we’re the same, and try to work from there.  

That, or maybe just spend some time on the Amalfi Coast.