SEPTEMBER 18, 2025 – Thanks to the confluence of a host of factors, we’re a nation whose hair is on fire. I’m in the camp that . . . well, anyone who’s followed my blog for long knows which camp I’m in, or maybe the better way to put it is, “which camp I’m definitely NOT in,” and that would be Krazy Kamp, led by . . . I’ll stop right there.
Incensed by the relentless Trumpian assault on democracy, I’m continually stirred to voice my deep-set opinions, admonitions and predictions. On occasion, as my readers have experienced, I can and do get carried away. But may the record reflect that my outbursts are relatively mild when measured against those of my spouse.
Despite our convictions, however, my wife and I are careful to temper our outrage—or at least our language—when our granddaughter is around. In the first place, we want to be positive role models for this young kid, and we would sabotage that effort if we behaved like out-of-control expletive rappers. Second, an almost 10-year-old has quite a different perspective on life from how two old folks look at it. If she has 70 years ahead of her, we have . . . mmm . . . I’m not going to put a number on it, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be even half of 70. Our job is to foster hope and purpose, and we undermine that mission if we convey a constant air of anger, doom and despair.
This isn’t to say we don’t talk politics around Illiana. She knows full well how we feel about the present regime and why. It’s just that we save our choicest vitriol for when she’s not around to hear it. On occasion she’ll express her own disapproval of Trump, but it’s ever so brief and succinct.
Today in the car on the way home from school, however, Illiana taught me a lesson that transcends my sincere beliefs about what’s happening right now in this dear country of ours. It was a humbling lesson, one that made a deeper impression on me than she knows. I’m grateful that I was quick enough to shift gears from dwelling on the latest outrage to reinforcing our granddaughter’s disposition and positive interaction with the world.
Out of the blue during our car ride home after school today, Illiana mentioned a fleeting experience during our visit to the public library yesterday.
Inside the place, she’d scrambled right with me up the long flight of stairs to the second level and followed me patiently between the stacks in search of the books I was after. She even helped me narrow the expedition. When my hands were full, she volunteered to lighten my load. Together we hiked back down to the checkout area, stopping briefly by some paintings on display—artwork that had caught her eye. Since I was missing my library card, we had to rely on the good graces of a live human being to check out the books. The person was of good cheer and invited a brief conversation about the titles I’d selected. As it would turn out for purposes of my lesson learned today, this conversation was critical. It gave Illiana just enough time to wander 12 feet away to a display of new books.
“Grandpa, remember when we were in the library yesterday?” she said today, as I maneuvered the car around road construction.
“Yeah.”
“I saw a book with a title that was critical of Trump. Something like he doesn’t tell the truth.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, I didn’t say anything to you because there were other people around who didn’t seem to notice the book, and I had no way of knowing if they liked Trump or hated him, but if they liked him, I didn’t want to hurt their feelings by pointing out the book.”
I was stunned. Part of me wanted to say, “What?! Afraid of hurting a Trumper’s feelings’?! Are you kidding me? Listen, kiddo, let me tell you about the First Amendment, about censorship, about free speech, and how downright wrong and dangerous it is for what’s going on right now with the President and the Chairman of the FCC threatening individuals and business organizations to toe the party line, and to have not one Republican in Congress condemn this behavior out of hand! My God, but these are crime bosses putting the squeeze on democracy! And we’re worried about ‘hurting the feelings’ of people who support these thugs, these stormtroopers intent on destroying our freedom?!”
But I said none of that or anything close to it. When I collected my thoughts, they led to quite a different place. “Illiana,” I said, pulling up to the curb outside her house, “that’s amazing what you just said. I didn’t notice the book you saw—it must’ve been while I was having my books checked out.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t go far, but I saw the books on the rack and the one about Trump stood out.”
“You know what we call your thoughts, your response, Illiana?”
“No, what?”
“Civility.”
“Civility?”
“Yes, civility, and it’s something that we seem to have lost in our society. But it’s an extremely important component to keeping us all together. And I’d call it social grace, too. You have social grace, and you understand civility, and those are very, very, very important and admirable qualities to hold onto, Illiana.”
I’m no less troubled by the news today than I was yesterday but consider myself better schooled about taking the high road. And by a fourth grader, no less, who, I dare say, exhibits greater wisdom and maturity than many a grandpa, including me. But it’s never too late to grow up.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
