Death is clarifying, not just for the dying, but for the living. As a hospice volunteer, I have the privilege of spending time with dying patients. Recently, I asked a patient, ‘Mabel,’ for her thoughts on how we might overcome the nastiness, anger and cruelty that has infected our beloved state and local communities.
Opinion
Mabel began by telling me about her late husband, a World War II veteran. Missing today, she suggested, is the kind of patriotism rooted in America’s core value of liberty and justice for all, and that all are created equal. These were shared values that made the American experiment so exceptional, the American people so optimistic and the United States the envy of the world.
After the war, thanks to the GI Bill, Mabel’s husband and millions of other veterans were able to pursue and pay for ongoing education, get help obtaining jobs, purchase starter homes, and invest in stocks, bonds and other assets. Because the U.S. was still segregated when the GI Bill became law, many Black veterans were excluded. For the veterans who did access the benefits, this led to historic prosperity — today’s baby boomers are the wealthiest generation in history.
But we of the postwar era have taken for granted what the veterans of a prior generation bequeathed to us. Over the past 80 years, liberty and justice for all has morphed into liberty and justice for a few.
Mabel minced no words. We who proudly called ourselves liberals — teachers in schools and colleges, policy experts in think-tanks and government — have failed to recognize that the concentration of wealth in the hands of the few is incompatible with liberty and justice for all.
How right she is. The possibility of America isn’t just a political framework; it’s rooted in ideals that our nation’s founders, most wealthy landowners and slaveholders themselves, bravely enshrined despite the reality of their time. It isn’t surprising that, without exception, the founders were men of faith, trusting in each other and in something far greater than themselves. Whether religious or not, they held a shared belief in the dignity and goodness of humankind “created in God’s image.”
But our better angels retreat amidst fear, insecurity and isolation, and that is where we are today. In a world of rapid change, misinformation and rampant loneliness, we are forgetting the moral underpinning of who we are and the very goodness that makes us human.
Wyoming has yet to build immunity to this virus. From her hospital bed, Mabel remains a keen observer of current events. She acknowledges that with our low population, the ease of getting elected and our pathological dislike of government, Wyoming is an ideal place for agents of the wealthy and powerful to influence more than state and local government, but national politics as well. We are willing pawns in the scheme.
And so the infection spreads. Fear mongers capitalize on the legitimate grievances of hardworking, values-driven Wyomingites to advance their own agendas, leaving those furthest from opportunity even further behind.
Sounds too simple, but it is not. It all might cast a dark shadow on the start of 2026, were it not for Mabel’s additional wisdom: The remedy is one another. The virus spreads in the distance between us, in the unkindness, distrust and nastiness that advance the interests of the powerful few. Likewise, we each have power to prioritize our neighbors over news headlines, to make patriotism about liberty and justice for all, to find ourselves in service of others and the urgent needs of our nation. In sum, we can commit this year to being human in all our goodness. We can build better communities and a better state by taking to heart the wisdom of a dying woman.