​How has America gotten into such trouble in every way conceivable?  We ignore our astounding national debt, urban violence, race relations, women’s reproductive rights, free speech, gun rights, income inequality…the polarization is endless.  What I’m trying to fathom is our general reluctance or inability to handle these complex problem. I have a clue:  American exceptionalism. I find it one of the  most dangerously misleading phrases in our culture   Yes, our country does some things extremely well, better than the rest of the world, and Americans can be incredibly kind and generous.  But our exceptionalism has become a broad brush  for championing the good while ignoring the bad, a shield to hide behind when our country is  criticized for its narcissism, indifference and ignorance.  We rationalize that critical problems like climate change can’t be easily solved so why make the effort? "The technology will show up when it’s needed. My life is busy enough,” a friend of mine says.   


 We wallow in our exceptionalism, but we don’t back it up by tackling the tough stuff that requires sacrifice and stamina. Many of us don’t like “hard.” We definite “living in the moment” as something wonderful and In many ways the goal is admirable.  Yet when I think about slogans with honest roots,  I prefer “living for the future.”  In the meantime, we are the world’s biggest back slappers. We love to congratulate ourselves, give out participant trophies, and exult in our pursuit of happiness.   Like a lost tribe of dreamers, the path marked “most difficult” has little interest for us.  I propose we observe a moratorium on the phrase “American exceptionalism.”  If we’re going to embark on a positive future for all, how about “American wisdom.” 

The earlier book, The Beginners Guide to Winning an Election, about a no-holds-barred high school political campaign, began to strike me as having more plot and characterization potential than I could have foreseen three years ago. The ability of a cunning virus to devastate cities and their economies is matched by its power to create terror, depression, and anxiety about the unknown. Meanwhile, America’s age-old struggles over racial justice, income equality, women’s rights, and affordable education, to name a few, rage on. The will to find legislative compromises has given way to stalemates, distrust, and deviousness.  In addition, politics has taken on the aura and importance of religion.

My new novel, Cliffhanger, probes deeper into two, starkly different candidates in an Indiana high school election.  The year is 2030. The idealism and candor of novice politician Brit is no match for her experienced, charismatic opponent, Matthew, or his shoot-from-the-hip campaign manager, Nathan.  
 
There are good reasons never to bet against Matthew in any election, though few in the thousand-strong student body are aware of his and Nathan’s secrets for winning.
 
A revered and eccentric history teacher at the school has another take on the election. Without saying it out loud,  for fear of ridicule, Mr. Wilson believes  one of the two candidates  could be  pivotal in helping save civilization in the 21st Century.  A 16th-century mystic and prophet, Nostradamus, predicted that  in the year 2048 an elected government would deliberately create enough paranoia and anxiety  to chip away at everyone’s sanity.  
 
Years after  their high school graduation, Matthew and Brit separately come  to the same conclusion.  As they watch their school and home town collapse in unexpected ways, they form a team for protection.  A romance blossoms,  only to  erode from their clashing wills, but it revives when the two have to face a common enemy:  An annoying kid from high school has become a leader of a new political order with chilling intentions. 

​In the sequel, Apostles In Black (to be published fall 2021), lessons first learned in high school politics become a map to Mathew’s and Brit’s survival.
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​The police-caused death of George Floyd in Minneapolis last week may be the galvanizing point for real change this November.  I hope so.  Racism is on the ballot.   Like COVID-19, racism too is a virus, an invisible pathogen passed down from generation to generation.  It can hibernate from time to time, but in four centuries, it has never been dormant for long.  Please help kill this virus by voting.  Please study the history of the candidates. Please turn out the noise and listen to your mind and heart.  My novel, Once Upon a Lie, publlshed a few years ago,  was my small contribution to insights into  American  racism of the Eighties and Nineties.  I learned so much in writing it:   The kernel of the virus is always the same.  If you don’t have discussions with those who don’t agree with you what that kernel is—don’t give up. Keep talking, keep protesting without  violence. Having the courage to substitute dialog for polarization may save our democracy."

With only a few days before the much-anticipated midterms, my wife and I attended a small fundraiser for a 29-year-old Latina running for a seat on the Santa Maria City Council.  Gloria Soto is a political novice who, if she wins,  hopes to give voice to approximately 70 percent of the population of a city sixty-five miles north of Santa Barbara, home to Vandenberg Air Force Base and lots of productive farms reliant on inexpensive labor.  Most of the  approximately 73,000 Hispanics in Gloria’s city perch on the lower rungs of the economic ladder.  The city faces a significant deficit, underperforming public schools, lack of a plan for raising revenues, an inadequate social safety net, and a predominantly while, older city council. 
 
Gloria wants to challenge all that.  She describes herself as a fighter with a dream, and as I listened to her speak, I thought of the heroine of my novel, The Beginner’s Guide to Winning an Election.  My story takes places in Indiana in 2025, where politics is hostile and combative even in high schools, and my heroine, like Gloria, is a fledgling at what feels too often like a blood sport.  The two young women—one fictional, one real—merge in my mind.  They both run grass roots campaigns that combine instinct, courage ,and new ideas with  a refusal to be dissuaded  by those who tell them to quit, or wait their turn, or focus on some other future besides politics.   
 
   As a writer and, like so many others, a voyeur of American politics, I think it’s the youth that have the best chance of saving our struggling democracy.  In assessing any candidate, I frown on the tyranny of ideology and agendas, and celebrate those who embrace  common sense and pragmatic solutions.  I want to see candidates who reject excuses for apathy at the polls, and view public service as the highest calling that a democracy can offer. Getting elected can be more difficult than going to med school or becoming a particle physicist.  Maybe that’s why so many people young people shy from politics, but those who want  to climb the mountain, and aren’t afraid of challenging the status quo, they deserve my support.

​In 2017, I began wondering how the new political norms in Washington would filter down to a  public high school election, say, in 2025.  I made middle-of-the-night notes.  Then I put those notes into  pages.  Then I made the pages into a novel.  Then I rewrote the story a half dozen times… until I began to see how it could all come true.  

Here are my five suggestions for amending the social contract of childrearing.   ​

1. Parents shouldn’t hide that they’re fallible human beings, and kids should be encouraged to learn from a parent’s weaknesses and  mistakes as well as  their strengths.  Everyone needs equal time to speak up, not just about their happiness and successes, but  disappointments and problems.  A five year old losing a pet hasemotionalequivalency to a parent losing a job.  Learning to offer help, forgiveness and sympathy needs to be a two-way street.

2. Parents should let kids know early on that mom and dad have roles to play other than raising children.  Holding a job, nurturing friendships, dealing with aging parents, taking care of their own health, handling a divorce…the list is long.   The sooner kids accept  that a  parent may not always be around physically or emotionally, the more adept they  become at solving their own problems. They also get a glimpse of what awaits them as adults, which can seem, and Is, daunting. if they go to a party school, or announce they want to live like a hedonist, remind them they still can’t escape responsibility.   
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3. A child giving mom or dad a hug, or even a sympathetic glance,  at the end of a parent’s hard day has healing qualities It’s almost as important as mom and dad hugging their child.  A lot of parents think they have to be self-sufficient authority figures,  but really, they need love, too.
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5. Many teens like to think that  they’re two or three years older than their actual age, and  in some  ways they might be   Don’t be reluctant to count on them if they have skills and insights that  you don’t, whether they’re academic, socialization, or just common sense. Authority resides with  a parent, but it doesn’t mean much to kids if you don’t have an open mind or encourage their talents. When they express gratitude to you for “being there for them,” that validation is priceless.  

​I’ve read several thoughtful pieces on the passing of Anthony Bourdain  A sensitive, talented and self-doubting man complicated by addiction and depression, which he fought most of his life.   As someone (and I don’t know how many other tens of millions) who deals with depression, I’d like to humbly add what life lessons Bourdain taught me.  
On Parts Unknown, he sold his political views with sleight of hand.  You thought you were watching an exotic food show, or a travelog filled with interesting people, but after being inundated with a season or two, you realized that Bourdain's view of food and cooking was more than about local color.  His subtext was about  what a culture can afford to eat, what it likes to eat, what it is  conditioned to eat, and when, due to affluence, it craves something new and different.  These are complex forms of self-expression and cultural identity, and  defined mostly by economics or politics. 

​If Bourdain had  trained his critical eye on our country, he’d be asking why  so many of us  are gluttons for fast food, and even the idea of four, always inexpensive, high calorie  meals a day?  Or why do we go to Whole Foods and spend $150 when $100 would have bought a comparable basket at a more modest supermarket?  Why do we pay $100 for a Chard loved by Beyonce?   Why do we go on diets?  Why do we go to gyms or yoga hoping for obedience from our bodies?  Food drives us crazy.   Perhaps there’s a hidden, even unconscious agenda behind what we put ourselves through. The pyramid of survival and happiness starts with food, education, and shelter, but then the simple plan gets blown out by status seeking, greed, fear, ambition, novelty and the political views to justify what we’ve become. 

​One bad night filled with unimaginably wretched feelings may amount to nothing in the morning, but one time it just might be enough to want to close your eyes for good. That’s my real takeaway from an  extraordinary, troubled American life.  Pay attention to your thoughts and feelings, because few others will care as much as you should.   Your worst moments should be your wake up call.  That is not boastful piety.  I think Bourdain, had he survived the hours before his death, might have had some moments of clarity where he got real with himself.