M.F.K. Fisher, the great poet of appetites (as John Updike called her), once said that there are three kinds of oyster-eaters: "those loose-minded sports who will eat anything, hot, cold, thin, thick, dead or alive; those who will eat them raw and only raw; and those who with equal severity will eat them cooked and no other way." Of course, Fisher also knew that there is the fourth kind of soul who will refuse to bring her mouth anywhere near an oyster, cooked or otherwise. There's just no unifying dinner guests around oysters. Face it.
Last week, like many Americans, I watched the inauguration of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris with joy and relief. The whole ceremony -- the President and his family, the Vice President and hers, the Obamas, J. Lo, Amanda Gorman, Garth, Gaga, and our grumpy uncle Bernie -- it was all delicious. The family dinner we missed at Thanksgiving.
And as the new President gave his inaugural address, I believed him when he said that his "whole soul is in this: Bringing America together. Uniting our people. Uniting our nation." After all, President Biden is himself a believer: in redemption, in overcoming tragedy, in finding common ground, in a Senate that works. He is a good man, and a product of a different time; when the Democratic and Republican parties were ideologically and temperamentally diverse; when the country was 90% white; before C-SPAN, cable news and social media. But just as you can't bring everyone together around an oyster bisque, a plate of raw Gulf oysters -- even if served at Galatoire's -- or roasted oysters with a sprig of rosemary, I wondered if President Biden and his speechwriters knew what he's up against as he called for unity in our country.
Maybe he did. "I know speaking of unity can sound to some like a foolish fantasy." Yeah. I suspect Vice President Harris knew it too. She is the product of a very different history and a very different legacy. And as our country continues to grow and evolve into a more -- and more genuine -- multi-ethnic, multi-racial, country of immigrants from across the globe, I can't help but wonder whether unity really is the goal. Maybe it's a necessary talking point for a President in his inaugural address. And maybe it's especially so after the last four years of tweets.
I went to work the day after the inauguration. Well actually, I just stumbled out of bed and walked a few feet to my computers across the bedroom. And it didn't take long to come to the realization that it will take months for the new government to take full shape, as nominations and confirmations drag on. There will soon be an impeachment trial for a President no longer serving. The pandemic and the response to it will continue to evolve and cause pain and havoc. There will be debates -- and maybe, just maybe, more action too -- to address the economic hardship across the country. Initiatives will begin to address racial justice and criminal justice, climate change and trade, immigration and so much more. Executive Orders will be signed, legal positions will change, institutions across Washington will have new leadership, and there will almost certainly be consequential surprises we can’t now possibly even imagine.
Through it all, starting right now, there will also be recriminations and disagreements, real and phony, honorable and otherwise. That is how it should be. And those whose fortunes rise with division, will seek their fortunes and sow division. It was happening minutes after the inaugural address. It is happening now. This is our way, at least for the time being. And before you know it, we'll be talking about the next election. Time is of the essence for our new President. The honeymoon is over.
As the President alluded to in his inaugural, we are blessed with a founding -- and amended -- charter that sets a worthy and righteous goal of equal justice for all, driven by democratic principles. But democracy is not unity. It requires, as President Biden couldn't help recognize himself, not all of us to come together, but "just enough of us" to carry all of us forward.
"Our history has been a constant struggle between the American ideal that we are all created equal and the harsh, ugly reality that racism, nativism, fear, and demonization have long torn us apart.
"The battle is perennial.
"Victory is never assured."
We're not all in this together. We've rarely had unity; maybe only when our collective existence was threatened by obvious and outside forces. But when fighting our own demons as Americans -- as humans -- we've not been united. And as it turns out, we don't need unity, even in our allegiance to democracy itself. For that, this year anyway, we just needed Bill Barr and John Roberts, Mitt Romney and Liz Cheney, and a few others. Just enough. Barely.
So maybe instead of striving too hard for unity, we ought to find comfort and solace in the never-ending struggle that is our fate as Americans, if we strive for our genuinely exceptional ideals. The struggle is the flip side of those ideals. It is our birthright. Like Jacob wrestling with the angel, we must perennially take on the challenge of being truly American and try to convince ourselves -- and just enough others -- of the righteousness of the cause and the necessary discomfort that comes with it. Many of us have children who see despair in the failure of their parents and grandparents to reach the promise of our land. Bless them and their idealism. But why not show them the nobility in the endless struggle. Why not find inspiration in those who have come before who faced the struggle with exceptional strength and dignity and success, and then get on with our part in it.
I learned this week for the first time of the story of Thomas Downing, an Eastern Shore oysterman, born in 1791, 230 years ago, in Chincoteague, Virginia. The son of freed slaves, a wildly successful businessman, father, husband, activist, transplanted New Yorker, entrepreneur, restauranteur, philanthropist, and a man of great courage, yet largely lost to history. His is a remarkable story that is a reminder of what it has taken -- and what it will continue to take -- to make the ideals and promise of America real.
Fortunately, Lexi Hubb, Artistic Director of the Chincoteague Island Theater Company, has researched, produced, and narrated a wonderful podcast about Downing. It's a story of his courage, his hard work, determination, struggle, ingenuity and fight for justice for himself and other African-Americans. And it's a story about how oysters helped make it happen. Oyster-stuffed turkey. Scalloped oysters and fish in oyster sauce. Oyster pan roast with wine and chili, a version of which is served at the National Museum of African American History and Culture on the National Mall in Washington. I've included the first episode of the podcast below.
"So, with purpose and resolve we turn to the tasks of our time.
"Sustained by faith.
"Driven by conviction.
"And, devoted to one another and to this country we love with all our hearts."
Just enough of us to carry all of us forward.
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