Minn column: Burying the hatchet

Published 12:00 am Friday, September 21, 2012

By Karissa Minn
kminn@salisburypost.com
        (Editor’s note: A version of this column was originally published on the website, www.sunflowersrising.com.)
Two days after every election in a small Delaware town, Republicans and Democrats get together and bury the hatchet.
Literally.
It’s part of a quaint tradition called Return Day left over from an era before the Internet, TV and vote-counting machines. Voters would return to the county seat two days after Election Day to hear canvassers announce the final tally. Of course, now everyone knows the results on election night, but people in Sussex County still come together two days later.
During a parade through Georgetown, the winner and loser of each race ride together in a horse-drawn carriage. Next, the leaders of the local Democratic and Republican parties both take hold of the same hatchet and plunge it into a container of sand.
It’s a symbol of peace, however fleeting.
Though I’m a native Delawarean, I don’t remember hearing about Return Day, a Sussex County tradition since 1971, until two years ago. Maybe I did and just never understood the significance.
I was working at the Salisbury Post the weekend before Election Day 2010 when I got a call from my mother.
My great-grandmother had just passed away. The news was expected – she had been sick in the hospital for several days – but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. I was told I could leave right away if I needed to, but I wanted to stay and help cover the election.
On Tuesday night, I watched in fascination as the winners celebrated with hugs and cheers and the losers gamely shaking their hands before retreating from the crowd.
Then, after only two hours of sleep, I rushed to catch a flight from Charlotte to Baltimore. I got to the church just as the service was beginning.
Back at my grandparents’ house, exhausted after the service but unable to nap, I picked up the local newspaper and read about Return Day. I immediately wanted to see the festival firsthand, but I had already bought plane tickets home for Thursday afternoon.
My grandfather’s mother lived 91 years on this earth. At her funeral and afterward, family members and friends talked about her loving spirit, her kindness, her faith and her generosity. No one mentioned which political party she belonged to, how she voted or if she even voted at all.
Her legacy was in how she touched the lives of people around her, and in some cases made our very lives possible.
When interviewing someone for a political story, no matter how much I want to express my personal opinion, I have to put it aside in order to treat people fairly. I’ve learned a lot over the past few years by just keeping my mouth shut and actively listening.
One of those lessons is that while hatred should be confronted, many times the person across the aisle probably isn’t full of hate, for others or for America. They’re just trying to fix the problems they see in the world, and they’re working with what they know.
These days, what frustrates me most is when people don’t want to know more – to make an effort to understand each other and even work together. Often, the same Republicans or Democrats will attend the same events and stay in the same groups.
Whenever I see two from opposite sides hanging out, talking and enjoying each other’s company, it makes me smile. They’ll swing hard in meetings or on the campaign trail, but they know how to use their hatchets as tools, not weapons.
Now, don’t get me wrong. From education to taxation to abortion, there are very real reasons to be passionate about politics and to care deeply about who is elected to public office. Activists and candidates alike have made history by fighting worthwhile battles.
But people are far more than their votes. We are more than our party platforms, campaign bumper stickers or Facebook posts. Whether we wear red or blue – or green or purple, or hooded sweatshirts or tricorn hats – we are human beings first.
We all have stories, and you might just find a surprise when you stop to listen.
Contact reporter Karissa Minn at 704-797-4222.
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