I campaigned for Richard Nixon. I didn’t care about his political party. I didn’t care about his re-election promises. I didn’t care about his stance on the Vietnam War. I didn’t care about his economic policies or his foreign affairs. What I did care about were the cute college-aged boys who recruited us young teenagers to distribute brochures and paraphernalia. We would go to football games to pass out Nixon buttons, bumper stickers, and similar items. We would walk door-to-door to hand out pamphlets and other materials. We were politically active! But, not really. We were just boy-crazy.
There was no way of knowing at the time, but, it turned out that we were working with a rising star. Lee Atwater, college student, who was the local leader of Nixon’s reelection campaign, rose to fame in the Republican party. He was later deemed a controversial figure, due to the aggressive tactics he used in campaign strategies. But, all this was unknown to me in 1972. Also, unknown to me, was that Richard Nixon would soon resign as president, amid the Watergate scandal. I still have a small bag of left-over Nixon merchandise. Last time I checked on Ebay, it wasn’t worth much.
I wonder how many times we choose to do things, just because other people are doing them? I wonder how many times we get caught up in activities that we aren’t particularly passionate about, but we go along, anyway? I’m not saying there was anything wrong with my volunteerism. I’m saying that I was completely uninterested in the subject matter. I was doing it for the wrong reasons. The boys were cute, and my friends were all in. I wouldn’t expect my younger self to be able to evaluate the situation, and that’s ok. But, I would hope that my older self would do a better job of analyzing the WHY before I commit myself, or jump on the bandwagon, as it passes by.
Politics aside, there seem to be a lot of opportunities in life which present themselves to us, and, in my experience, I often react without really thinking about it. It just seems like the thing to do, so I go along without questioning. Such was the case with the Bronze Rosewood Collection. Yes, the Bronze Rosewood Collection. Perhaps my biggest fail, ever.
Weddings were very traditional in my hometown. One of the standard practices, upon announcing your engagement, was to register your china pattern at the local store. China, crystal, and silver. Wedding guests could check with the local store, and select a gift—a silver butter knife, a crystal water goblet, a full-sized china dinner plate, a 1 qt china serving bowl, etc. This was standard operating procedure in my town. We didn’t question whether we needed 8 sets of china, where each set contained a dinner plate, a salad plate, a bread plate, and a cup and saucer. This was simply how it was done. So, as expected, I chose (and, yes, Rob agreed to) china, crystal, and silver patterns. I guess we had an expectation that we would do things differently—we would actually use the fancy dishes, unlike my parents, whose china sat in a china cabinet, displayed, with years of dust accumulating. It seemed important to have a china cabinet, and to fill it with special dishes and glasses. Today, I still have a china cabinet, and it is full of special dishes and glasses, collecting dust.
So, in the early days of our marriage, we assessed the large assortment of wedding gifts we had received (thank you, everyone, very much!), and it didn’t take long to realize that we had a very nice collection of china, a decent collection of crystal, and a paltry collection of silver. I began to panic. How would we use our fancy china dishes, and our gorgeous crystal stemware, if we didn’t have comparable knives, forks and spoons? Our everyday forks and spoons wouldn’t be good enough. I stumbled upon an advertisement for a complete set of silverware, the Bronze Rosewood Collection. Instead of silver, it was bronze. I thought that would be a perfect accompaniment to our gold-rimmed china dishes, so I ordered the set by filling out the paper order form, writing a check, and mailing it to the company. It was not cheap.
Rob’s question, “Do we need silverware?” was brushed off. “We must have silverware to go with our china, duh!” I retorted. When the Bronze Rosewood Collection arrived, I was less than impressed. It was not the best quality, and some of the utensils were oddly shaped, a sort of Art Deco design. It was a bad purchase. Was it pride, or reluctance to deal with The Return Procedure, or hopefulness that it would be OK? I’m not sure, but the Bronze Rosewood Collection, in its heavy wooden case, was stashed away in the closet, waiting for its maiden meal. For years. And years. Every now and again, we would stumble upon the box, and Rob would ask why we had it. It became a sore spot. Eventually, after decades of not being used, the Bronze Rosewood Collection went to the Salvation Army donation drive.
Why in the world did it seem so necessary to buy those knives, forks, and spoons? I was following the standard procedure that I knew—everyone needs special pieces for entertaining. Only, my parents didn’t use special pieces for entertaining. My grandparents didn’t use special pieces for entertaining. As an adult, Rob and I have entertained a lot, over the years. When friends and family come to our house, we do not use special pieces—things that have to be handwashed and stacked carefully. We spend more time hanging out with the people, and less time with the dishes.
So, what do these two stories, Nixon and the Bronze Rosewood Collection, have in common? Not that much. But, I think, looking back, I can see that I agreed to stump for a presidential candidate because my friends were doing it, and, did I mention that the boys were cute? Maybe I would have supported Nixon, or maybe not, I didn’t really care—I was too young to vote. But, I wanted to convince other people that he was the man for the job, because a cute guy wanted me to. No critical thinking skills going on there. Why did I order the Bronze Rosewood Collection, and then stubbornly hold onto the notion that it was an important part of our lives? I was convinced that everyone needed a proper collection of fancy dishes and serving items, even though 99.9% of the time, those dishes sat unused. It’s was just what you were supposed to have. Again, no critical thinking skills.
I like to think that I have matured past the stages of adolescence and starry-eyed newlywed. My body would tell you that I have. But, sometimes, I catch myself falling into the same old traps of going along with what other people are doing without really thinking about it. Or the traps of going along with something for the wrong reasons, and not really thinking of the consequences that might come down the road. Or the traps of buying into a concept, because that’s the way it’s always been done. Now, I challenge myself to really think about it, before I align myself with THIS side of an argument, or take on THAT cause, or resist THIS movement. If I don’t analyze and decide for myself, then I am just going along with the crowd because it’s the easy thing to do.
If you are a Nixon fan, or a fancy china fan, I am not belittling you. I am simply saying that I became caught up in both of those things without really making a choice. I let myself be swept into Nixon’s reelection campaign and the Bronze Rosewood purchase because I was thought those things were important (Cute boys are important! Appropriate fancy utensils are important!), but I never considered why I thought they were important, at the time.
Now, I can say with some confidence, that I try to apply reasoning skills, and think for myself. Not echo what other people say, just because they say it loudly. Not insist that things have to be done THIS way because that’s the way it is. Really think about the whys and why nots. I TRY to think for myself. I wish everyone could say the same.