Notes from my Knapsack 6-9-22
Jeff Gill
Making choices on a changing menu
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In case it hasn't been clear, I think the advent of Intel on our immediate horizon is an amazing piece of news which is the culmination of many hopes and even prayers for the economic future of our county, a place which saw as much industrial decline as most anywhere in the Midwest between 1980 and the early 2000's.
And I'm equally certain that there are going to be huge challenges, major problems, and for certain individuals, harm and pain, as a result of this impending development. Both can be true, the good news and the bad, at the same time.
Let's not forget, a new baby is a joy and cause for celebration, and that same child will cause the loss of a great deal of sleep, incur expenses, and limit parental options for some time to come. Both at the same time!
The greatest concern I hear is the idea that having a few tens of billions of dollars of investment landing with a mighty thud in our county, adjoining our school district, resounding through our community, will obliterate everything we're used to, all that we love about this village we call Granville. It would be foolish in the extreme to pretend that's not part of what's coming.
Which is why I want us to speak out loud, to each other, around the town, about what we love so much we're willing to make some sacrifices to save, to preserve, to maintain as it is.
There's an old line in conservatism, politically and culturally speaking, that I believe comes from G.K. Chesterton, about how conservation of anything, material or spiritual, civic or personal, is not passive. You don't preserve things by just sitting there, standing pat. The example is a white post on a busy street corner (and G.K.C. was writing in the horse and buggy days). If you want to preserve it as it appears, it takes regular painting and occasionally putting it back up, as dust and mud and little kids with sticks bashing at it and horses brushing against it means it's constantly in danger of becoming not a white post on a corner but a splintered piece of wood lying horizontal in the mud.
St. Luke's cupola, a fixture of our Broadway streetscape? That's completely new. Avery-Downer House down the road? Some of the pillars may be replaced for what I believe is a third time. To keep Broadway looking "the way it always has" takes regular investment in upkeep, painting being the least of it.
What should not change? I'd like to keep a mix of longtime residents and new arrivals both living in and active in town. I love our public spaces and how we use them, including the occasional closure of Broadway itself for events. Fourth of July street fair plans are proceeding apace (huzzah for Granville Kiwanis), Pelotonia, Bluesfest. Parades from Memorial Day to July 4th itself, sidewalk cafe life…
I could go on for myself, but the civic question is two-fold: how long the list, and how much will we pay to keep things "as they are"? And beyond that, how will we adapt to the major changes that are sure to come all around us?
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's got all sorts of lists. Tell him what's at the top of yours at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
Tuesday, May 24, 2022
Faith Works 5-27-22
Faith Works 5-27-22
Jeff Gill
Keyword searches and trigger warnings
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When I started writing about critical race theory, I learned something rather interesting.
It was the start of a loosely connected series of columns with the overall destination made clear at the start: I believe most of the political and social complaints and criticism about "critical race theory" is really a desire to see less discussion of race and racism in the public arena, and that it's not a prudent goal for educators or churches or politicians to try to eliminate such conversations.
And I've certainly heard from a fair number of educators who agree with my take about how conversations about racial issues are called "indoctrination." Teachers and administrators affirm that if they actually could indoctrinate students, they'd start with getting them to have a good night's sleep, turn in assignments on time, and use less strongly scented personal grooming products. Seriously, those three are where they'd start.
Yes, a conversation started by a teacher carries a certain weight, and I think teachers are almost without exception very careful about how they wield that responsibility, but race is still a vexed issue for us even if you argue — as I would — that we have come a very long way from 1962, let alone 1862, in this country and in our community.
My learning was that in the initial column, I got some rather vehement feedback and from a very wide range of correspondents, by which I don't mean across the county, but from across the country.
By way of experiment, one of my subsequent columns I made a point of talking about critical theory specifically, not mentioning the word "race" at all, and I got zero emails back on that one. The ideas were in the same neighborhood, but I wasn't ringing the same bell.
So I suspect there are folk who have internet alerts set up keyed to the phrase "critical race theory" and when that bell is rung, they charge out of their own personal fire house to pour some water, or maybe kerosene, on my incendiary ideas. This column will be a good test of that, since I think I've now said critical race theory four times, twice in quotes and twice without. We shall see.
As for talking about race, as a preacher of the Gospel, as a minister of God's grace, I think we have work to do in this country just as Germany is still working on anti-Semitism. It's a sign of the remarkable progress they've made there in Europe that Ukrainian Jews are happy to find refuge in places like Berlin and Nuremberg. Yes, a little ironic, but irony is the seasoning of history. The point is that Jews fleeing war and oppression can see Germany as a safe place: that's a huge sign of progress in 77 years. But I think few Germans would say they are done.
For me, as a person who came to Licking County by invitation, with a passion for history and an interest in building community, I have long known we have some work to do in this area around race and reconciliation. As a parish minister and community leader, I'm not sure I've done enough in the past, and we'll see what time I have left to serve and witness, but I know that our racial divisions still need a hand of healing and words of renewal.
When I was helping bring some organizations together in Newark after I first arrived, in 1989, and setting up community meetings, there were times when I was cautioned "Black people do not feel comfortable coming downtown after dark." Eddie Mae Scott pulled me aside to let me know she knew many African Americans who could recall vividly when you'd better be on the right side of the East Main bridge when the sun went down.
I had the chance to converse online, and later in person, with the late historian James Loewen, who wrote "Sundown Towns" about the widespread pattern in the Midwest of having both unspoken and sometimes official rules about who could go where, many of which lasted well past the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
Loewen liked to say "Telling the truth about the past helps cause justice in the present; achieving justice in the present helps us tell the truth about the past." We have work yet to do, and not talking about race and justice won't help us get closer to getting it done.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's got a long way to go himself. Tell him where he should go, if you're of a mind to, at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
Jeff Gill
Keyword searches and trigger warnings
___
When I started writing about critical race theory, I learned something rather interesting.
It was the start of a loosely connected series of columns with the overall destination made clear at the start: I believe most of the political and social complaints and criticism about "critical race theory" is really a desire to see less discussion of race and racism in the public arena, and that it's not a prudent goal for educators or churches or politicians to try to eliminate such conversations.
And I've certainly heard from a fair number of educators who agree with my take about how conversations about racial issues are called "indoctrination." Teachers and administrators affirm that if they actually could indoctrinate students, they'd start with getting them to have a good night's sleep, turn in assignments on time, and use less strongly scented personal grooming products. Seriously, those three are where they'd start.
Yes, a conversation started by a teacher carries a certain weight, and I think teachers are almost without exception very careful about how they wield that responsibility, but race is still a vexed issue for us even if you argue — as I would — that we have come a very long way from 1962, let alone 1862, in this country and in our community.
My learning was that in the initial column, I got some rather vehement feedback and from a very wide range of correspondents, by which I don't mean across the county, but from across the country.
By way of experiment, one of my subsequent columns I made a point of talking about critical theory specifically, not mentioning the word "race" at all, and I got zero emails back on that one. The ideas were in the same neighborhood, but I wasn't ringing the same bell.
So I suspect there are folk who have internet alerts set up keyed to the phrase "critical race theory" and when that bell is rung, they charge out of their own personal fire house to pour some water, or maybe kerosene, on my incendiary ideas. This column will be a good test of that, since I think I've now said critical race theory four times, twice in quotes and twice without. We shall see.
As for talking about race, as a preacher of the Gospel, as a minister of God's grace, I think we have work to do in this country just as Germany is still working on anti-Semitism. It's a sign of the remarkable progress they've made there in Europe that Ukrainian Jews are happy to find refuge in places like Berlin and Nuremberg. Yes, a little ironic, but irony is the seasoning of history. The point is that Jews fleeing war and oppression can see Germany as a safe place: that's a huge sign of progress in 77 years. But I think few Germans would say they are done.
For me, as a person who came to Licking County by invitation, with a passion for history and an interest in building community, I have long known we have some work to do in this area around race and reconciliation. As a parish minister and community leader, I'm not sure I've done enough in the past, and we'll see what time I have left to serve and witness, but I know that our racial divisions still need a hand of healing and words of renewal.
When I was helping bring some organizations together in Newark after I first arrived, in 1989, and setting up community meetings, there were times when I was cautioned "Black people do not feel comfortable coming downtown after dark." Eddie Mae Scott pulled me aside to let me know she knew many African Americans who could recall vividly when you'd better be on the right side of the East Main bridge when the sun went down.
I had the chance to converse online, and later in person, with the late historian James Loewen, who wrote "Sundown Towns" about the widespread pattern in the Midwest of having both unspoken and sometimes official rules about who could go where, many of which lasted well past the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
Loewen liked to say "Telling the truth about the past helps cause justice in the present; achieving justice in the present helps us tell the truth about the past." We have work yet to do, and not talking about race and justice won't help us get closer to getting it done.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's got a long way to go himself. Tell him where he should go, if you're of a mind to, at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
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