SEPTEMBER 24, 2924 –
If I were Gilgamesh or Noah and knew the big flood was coming, I wouldn’t limit my response to construction of one ark and restrict access to passengers from the animal kingdom plus my wife, sons and their wives. I’d build a whole fleet of arks, and when God asked, “What the hell are you doing?” I’d explain (with all due respect) that despite all the bad people that God wanted to wipe out with a flood, the world was populated with plenty of folks who are really good people and should be spared the same fate as all the bad guys.
This weekend I interacted with half a dozen people who would definitely be on the passenger manifest—along with thousands of other folks; make that millions or—I’ll dare say—even several billion. The point being: I believe that when it comes right down to it, “good” people far outnumber the “bad.” The six I’d like to highlight here include Paul A. and Paul M. (see yesterday’s post), “Mike,” “Derek,” and “Meghan” and her husband “Chuck.”
Paul M. is a long-time bank client of mine who, by way of common outside interests and shared approach to life, has become a solid friend. Paul A. is also a long-time friend of Paul M. via their deep involvement in downhill ski instruction and coaching of young racers and competitive mountain trail biking.
Both Pauls are what I’d classify as “model citizens.” They care about the common good (Paul A. has spent nearly his entire career in the public sector, mainly in public safety, currently as CEO of the Minnesota Safety Council), they share an innate curiosity about the world, and they’d fail miserably if circumstances required them to B.S. Neither is capable of it.
Then there is Mike, who sent me two email over the weekend. A “semi-retired” radiologist who was in fourth grade when I was in third grade, which means he’s older than I am, he’s hardly retired from a whole range of productive activities, from fitness training to reading books to recruiting speakers for a forum at the famous center for marine life research, Woods Hole, Massachusetts, not to mention his participation in other civic matters. Just yesterday I learned that he is playing the role of Doc Gibbs in a community theatre production of Our Town. I hadn’t known about Mike’s thespian bent, but I’m hardly surprised. He’s curious, adventurous, and as an experienced swimmer, he’s not afraid to jump into the deep end of the pool of life, with all it has to offer. But the most important thing to know about Mike is that he genuinely cares about other; he really cares about the common good.
Late today, I received a text out of the blue from Derek, whom I hadn’t heard from in well over a year. He was a tenant in the same office-sharing space where I’d maintained my office when the Covid-19 pandemic struck. Soon thereafter, Derek moved back to his home in Southern California, where his graphic design firm was headquartered. I was delighted to hear from Derek. When we were working under the same roof, we’d had many extended conversations about a wide-range of issues, mostly political. Derek is of my sons’ generation, and I was flattered that he’d be interested in talking with an old fogey like me. I was impressed by his insights and thoughtfulness and quickly realized that I could learn much from him—and I did. Like the Pauls and Mike, Derek has the smarts, the genuine concern, and the capacity to contribute to the common good.
Then there are Chuck and Meghan, neighbors of ours, it turns out, on Grindstone Lake in northwest Wisconsin, as well as back home in the Twin Cities. They are the friends of the couple I met exactly a week ago in St. Paul—Dan and Jill—who also have a place on Grindstone Lake. This morning Chuck and Meghan hiked nearly two miles from their place to the old cabin of Björnholm, where we rendezvoused. I then led them on a tour of the tree garden, including a stop at the “Pergola-on-a-Platform.” From there we descended back down to the lake and the Red Cabin, where we wound up diving into a deep long conversation about the state of our country. I learned about their backgrounds (Meghan, an intern on the faculty in the residency program at a major medical facility in Minneapolis; Chuck, a stay-at-home dad and a recovering member of the legal profession (but an impressive credit to the profession when he was an active practitioner)).
At about noon, we found our way back to their place for a grand tour of their most amazing private conservancy, their own “tree garden.” It was positively spectacular, replete with broad moss-covered walking trails that Chuck had spent untold hours, days, weeks, years developing and maintaining. I was then shown their 49-step staircase leading down to the lake. It was in the middle of a large stand of enormous Norway pine, and the view was stunning. In the course of this tour, I learned just how committed these extraordinary people are to conserving the woods—air and water, again, for the common good, consistent with the pattern established by all the other people with whom I’d interacted this weekend.
It so happens that each of these people is gravely concerned about the future of this country. None is a Trumper or even “leaning” that way. But none of them is a “radical, extremist leftist,” either. Not by a very long shot. They are people who genuinely care about the common good, and how that common good is now threatened more than ever. I certainly share their concerns, but ironically, the fact of their concern gives me hope. Each of these people is an influencer for the good, and they are not alone. In a country of 340 million souls, the good people I’ve mentioned in this post are hardly alone.
In fact, if I were Gilgamesh or Noah, I wouldn’t be lobbying for more arks. Instead, I’d focus on convincing God that he should call off the flood; that he’s got it upside down; that good people abound. In this fact, this reality, we need to find hope and courage.
Subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
