Be like Easter

I learned of last Saturday's shooting in Tucson, Ariz., in an intensive care waiting room in a hospital in Chattanooga when I got a text news alert while I was writing a draft of my grandmother's obituary on my laptop. A few hours later, we took my grandmother off life support, and she passed not long after.

I should be grateful to Grandma Easter that her last gift to my family was that we had other things on our mind this week than the storm of blame that followed the shooting, where one apparent nutcase killed six people and wounded another dozen, including a U.S. Congresswoman. I say it's a gift because, while the shooting was a tragedy, the blame-storm is a unpleasant, ugly mess, and I'm glad that I missed it. Because - and I say this in honor of one of the biggest "Gone With the Wind" fans on the planet - frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

The people whom we actually elect to govern our country, including members of Congress and President Obama, have issued public statements that pay tribute to the victims while condemning the violence. It's the non-elected people who've been flapping their jaws, pretty much only because their jobs require them to fill airtime with opinions, well-informed or not. And I really don't give a purple shit what any of them have to say, so I'm not going to argue with any of them here.

Because they're missing the point. If my grandmother were the one in that hospital waiting room watching CNN, she wouldn't have asked to what party the targeted Congresswoman belonged. It wouldn't have mattered to her. This was a woman who, at the time of her death, had an autographed copy of Decision Points on her bookshelf and a signed photo of herself with Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter on a table five feet away.

I don't mean to suggest that Easter was a saint; she was a human being who not infrequently got pissed off at other people - but most importantly, she made the deliberate choice to approach the world with joy in her heart. There were people that Easter didn't care for, and they probably have no idea who they are, because she didn't treat them any differently than her friends. She understood that, not only is it more fun to live your life that way, it's easier, too.

Easter's obituary ran in the Polk County News this Wednesday in the same edition that has a front page story on readers' suggestions for what to use when you don't have a sled and a page two report on all the calls that the Sheriff's Office received that week. It was a blessing for me to be reminded of the things that are really important to people living their lives outside the "news" zone. When you see the screaming heads and the political bloggers and the attention-hag former office-holders flinging poo at one another, please remember one thing: that is not America.

America is a little town in southeast Tennessee where a deputy will still come help you light your furnace, and where the local paper will report on it. America is people like Grandma Easter, who volunteer on 911 boards and at their churches because they know how much their communities depend on them, and who will literally give you the cash out of their wallets if you need it, regardless of your superficial differences. We may snipe at one another over petty things, but what makes America special is that - when the chips are down - we believe in the best of one another.

I'd rather be like Easter. I'd rather fight for people who can't speak up for themselves, and I'd rather have trust and love in my heart over suspicion and hate. I'd rather not ask "what's in it for me?" when someone asks for my help. I'd rather turn off the noise and go bake a cake.

Red velvet. I have her recipe.