A Magic Moment
One of the most important moments in last summer’s campaign was a single utterance by Kamala Harris. I can usually recall a strike of lightning, but I can’t remember whether it was at the convention or the debate. Coulda been one. Coulda been the other.
What she said, however, was an essential truth. We have passed the era of one size fits all, of settled assumptions and the same solution for everyone. It used to be the case that a college education was the necessary passport to American fulfillment. My parents preached that gospel to me and I did the same when it was time for my kids. Our son took me at my earnest word. Our daughter eventually did the same, but felt a powerful tug toward welding and cosmetology. I personally think that she would have been brilliant at both, but it turned out she had a gift for public education. Passport in hand, she bought a house.
But eight years later, that feels like spoiled fruit. Take a beautiful mind and a degree in classics, and you don’t necessarily get enough for a house. Not now, in the midst of Trump 2.0. You just get a degree in Greek and Latin.
Kamala Harris thought that was OK. If you can afford that degree, go forth in strength. But her better idea is that college is not everything, that we need to pair it with other aspirations and give those career paths respect and honor. Think about this the next time you hire a plumber. The one on our Bat Phone is a smart, interesting guy who has bothered to understand our very old house. He has idiosyncratic things to say about the world, prices his jobs fairly, and never leaves with less than $200. When I ask, he tells me he does four jobs a day. I would say that he is doing nicely, and I hope he earns everything he wants.
Any which way, Kamala was right. Respect and honor are always iron-clad essentials. But if we ever expect a new Democratic party, it will require abandoning the straitjacket of old forms and expectations. We’ve got to shake off the norms of upward mobility and endorse the value of so-called “manual” labor. I’m ready for a coalition of rabbis and plumbers. If you think I’m joking, guess again.