The summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college was simply idyllic. I spent my days working on an ocean-front lobster shack and my nights out around Portland, Maine. I may not have made a lot of money that summer, but I made friends that will last the rest of my life. And I met Earl.*
I was 19. Earl was a 32-year-old line cook. My mother was super pleased.
Looking back, I recognize that Earl was my first love. I had other boyfriends prior to him, but I was devoted to Earl. I know I wasn’t the first waitress he messed around with; I doubt I was the last. That summer he taught me lessons about sex and love that I still carry with me today.
Earl had no plan for his life; he went where opportunities took him. He had grand ideas that I would drop out of college and spend winters with him working at a Colorado ski lodge. I envied his ability to live from day-to-day without set goals and romanticized the idea of dropping all responsibilities and just living life.
Eventually my Type-A sensibilities kicked in and I bid adieu to Earl. As he made his way from Maine back to Colorado he stopped by to see me at college. It was an awkward experience which made me realize how little we really had in common. When Earl pulled out of the gates of my university, I was honestly glad to see him go.
And then, as he should, Earl faded away. That summer and their stories became inside jokes for friends and a way to tease me around new boyfriends. While I always looked back at him and that summer fondly, it was clear that the past should remain in the past.
Until, one Thanksgiving, he added me on facebook.
It took me a few days to approve him. Six years had passed and I was unsure how or why he wanted to reengage. Finally, I relented. We sent some e-mails back and forth and updated each other on our lives. I had finished college and was working for a non-profit communications group in San Francisco. He had driven up to Alaska with his two dogs and lived on a piece of land far removed from any signs of civilization; months passed when he didn’t interact with any humans.
After the initial catch up we lost touch again, and then he sent me an e-mail last weekend. His e-mail prompted me to visit his profile and passively see what was going on in his life.
The discovery shocked me. Apparently he spent much of his recluse life writing epic facebook posts on his opposition to New York’s proposed Muslim Community Center. His posts were hateful, racist and uneducated. I was appalled. I shared his notes with friends, and they too shared my disgust. I thought he must be uninformed about the proposed building and decided to send him a note about his inaccuracies.
People told me not to do it. They told me there is no way to win an argument when the other person has hate in their heart. But I believed that he simply did not understand the facts surrounding the cultural center. I want to be the type of person who stands up for what they believe; who pushes people to look past their own feelings of prejudice. I was sure that a clear-headed factual post could resolve any issues he may have.
As you’ve guessed by now, my post did not resolve anything for him. In fact he responded with more racist and hateful language. A choice quote:
“When they start a Holy War and change America into a Muslim state, I’ll still be their [sic] fighting for your rights. Your [sic] much too pretty to be covered in a veil.”
I wanted to respond again, to really try and help him see how our country had the opportunity to be the very best we can be, but instead resorted to ignorance and hate speech. But I’ve realized (finally) that there is nothing I can do to change his mind. My task now is to resolve how someone so hateful could have meant so much to me at one time.
I’m tempted to subscribe him to the e-mail lists of the ACLU, the Anti Defamation League and the Southern Poverty Law Center. But like my e-mail, I know that won’t do anything to change his mind.
Instead I’ll do what I should have done the day he added me on facebook: leave the past in the past.
*Not actually his name! But, like the hurricane, he needs to go away.