JANUARY 26, 2020 – A prominent historian once said that no reliable history could be written less than a half-century after events under examination. Based on my own life experience, I find that perspective compelling.
As we watch Trump’s impeachment trial unfold, we—right, left, center, off the charts—must wonder, Starting 50 years from now, how will this episode be interpreted? The truth: we have no idea.
In the early days of the Trump Era, my closer friends and associates, family members and I myself were shocked by extreme and repulsive views and behaviors ostensibly unleashed by the new regime. With no let up, America still seems headed hellbent for apocalypse. But thanks to the work of many a scholar and historian, the student of history could reach an alternative view, more balanced and less hysterical.
Today I need to remind myself of the image I’d devised a while ago to describe America.
In my mind was a King Oscar-brand sardine can like the ones my dad always had on hand. As a kid, I was fascinated by the packaging—crinkly paper, folded up in layers on the bottom of the can, with the image of a monarch on the top—and the special key for opening the can. I’d watch intently as Dad unwrapped the paper and snapped the key off the top of the can. At the end of the key was a tiny slot, which fit over a matching tab on the lid of the can. Dad slid the key into place over the tab, and by turning the key, rolled back the cover like nobody’s business. I marveled at the cleverness in such quirky simplicity.
But what the operation revealed disgusted me. As Dad exaggerated (for my benefit) his delight (“Oh just look at those delicious sardines!”), I’d yell, “Eweee!”
Then Dad took a fork, gently dug the first sardine out of the can, laid it squarely atop a saltine cracker and chuck the whole business into his mouth. A few chews, a swallow, and he’d let out a big, “Ahhhh! Delicious!” What I got out of it was a waft of fishy air, and a close-up look at some very dead fish crammed together in an unappetizing oily sauce.
So, back to America. Wrapped in the crinkly paper of our myths, featuring not the image of a monarch but the words, We the People and American Exceptionalism, the self-image of many Americans has been similar to the image I had of my dad’s sardine can—before it was opened. In the Age of Information, the sardine can has been opened to reveal its smelly contents. For those of us naive enough to have been infatuated by the wrapping and impressed by the cleverness of the key opener, the contents come as a big surprise. We’re disgusted, outraged, disheartened. How could such a delightful package contain such horrible food?
Not to worry. The sardines in oily sauce pre-date the invention of the can, crinkly paper, and clever key.
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
