The passing of former U.S. President Jimmy Carter gave me pause and made me realize how the actions of one individual, however famous, can affect the humblest among us.
Jimmy Carter gave me my first promotion in the newspaper business.
The day after his inauguration as the 39th President, he issued a pardon for thousands of Americans who had chosen to leave the country rather than enter military service during the Vietnam War.
The next year I would be working as a rookie reporter in the Wallaceburg Bureau of the Chatham Daily News for Phil, a man who had come to Canada under those circumstances. Even a presidential edict can take time to implement, but the die was cast and the repatriation process began.
Phil was a good man and fine writer, a patriot whose father had served with distinction in the U.S. armed forces, but he refused to participate in what he believed was an unjust conflict.
He loved his country and took advantage of the pardon to head home, with his Canadian wife and a daughter who had been born in Wallaceburg. He continued a distinguished career and retired in the Midwest several years ago.
I was chosen to replace him as “bureau chief,” a term of some significance for a 20-something reporter who, only months before, had worried about his future after attempting to take several photographs without the benefit of film in his camera.
The night of my mistake, I called Phil in a panic, offering my resignation, sure that I simply wasn’t cut out for newspaper work. In his soft, slightly southern U.S. Midwestern accent, he told me everything would be all right. He arranged for re-takes on the photos and I have never forgotten his kindness.
Jimmy Carter’s kindness in offering pardons wasn’t based on partisan politics. Its purpose was to help heal America’s deep wounds caused by the war. Carter was roundly criticized by supporters of the war as being disrespectful of veterans and condemned by anti-war protestors because his amnesty didn’t include deserters.
The president believed he was doing the right thing as much as Phil believed his forgiveness was the proper course of action. Both, in their way, were acts of compassion.
In an era where politics has devolved to the point where “pleasing your base” and vilifying opponents with vulgarity is the norm, we need to remember that there is another way.
We can choose healing and kindness as Jimmy Carter did for my friend and mentor Phil and as Phil in turn did for me, or we can choose hate for those who don’t share our opinions.
When we spew hatred, we say much more about ourselves than we do about the person we’re attacking.
