It's a big week coming up in our country, as we peacefully transfer power from one president to the next, and we aren't going to shy away from stating that nerves are on their very edge. And not just for the people who didn't want to see this next president come back into leadership. There seems to be a lot of ego, a lot of things to prove, and a lot of feeling misunderstood. And when people feel misunderstood, they become... erratic. We say things we don't mean. We huddle up only with people who think like us. We act like jerks. It's all really unpleasant.
When we wrote this song on July 4th of last year, we weren't feeling very hopeful for our country. Maybe we should be feeling the same way now. Except, in the midst of feeling very not hopeful, our friends Bill & Audrey drove a couple hours to come see us play the night before, and we had the pleasure of having dinner with them before our show. There, they told us about how they had struggled for a lot of years in their church-- a church they'd dedicated their lives to, raised their children together with, stood elbow-to-elbow with Sunday upon Sunday. And this same church, these same people they love, were going a direction they couldn't follow-- one that said that people who are different cannot be tolerated. One that said Country before God. One that said that not everyone was welcome. And so, they left. Not just like that. A church is often a family, an identity, and a home all at once. But at a certain point, they didn't recognize this home, anymore. There over tater tots, they told us about a new church they attended-- a little scared at first. But by just a few visits, they felt not only welcomed, but part of it. They'd found a new family. And it wasn't because these people think just like them, or because they look just like them. It's because it is a place that loves everyone.
That night, we played to a crowd of about 200 people who were of all kinds of backgrounds-- a smattering of diversity we were shocked to see. And they were all celebrating, having a good time, being kind, listening. It was profoundly and unexpectedly joyous. Right there in the middle of the country in the middle of Indiana.
So when we got ourselves to the hotel room the next day to avoid the fireworks with our big scaredy-cat dogs, this song just sort of... erupted. It was done in a matter of ten minutes. We weren't making a checklist of people we'd seen. We weren't trying to tell anyone how to live their lives. We were inspired. Inspired that people can change, that lives can change, that better choices can be made to support a more loving culture-- even when all you've ever known must be left behind. And we were inspired that people from extremely different socio-political/economic/ideological backgrounds could share a beer and shoot the shit. We were genuinely overwhelmed with the possibility of hope in small places. Because if it's happening in small ways, the ripple outwards could be big. Will be big.
Something we noticed when we released the video for this song yesterday was that folks commented with "I'm not where you want me to be, yet..." or "I'm going to try, but I don't know if I can do what you're asking." What's strange about it is that wasn't our intent-- or at least, we didn't realize it was a commandment we were making. And yet, isn't this the commandment we've all been given? Regardless of how you were raised, what your religious background is, hasn't this always been the first commandment of living with other people? Love your Neighbor as yourself. Do unto other as you would have done unto you. Be kind. Love, love love.
And you know-- it's hard. It's really hard. This song was written for us. We didn't write this song because we thought everyone else needed to hear it. We wrote it because we needed to hear it. Because the next president, the weather, and the war in the Middle East is out of our immediate control. But sharing a meaningful conversation without tempers raised, handing out $5 to the person standing at the street light with a sign without judgement of whether or not they need it or what they are going to spend it on, and wishing someone well who just cut you off in traffic is within our jurisdiction. We can feel the pang of injustice, we can step up and vote and do the right thing-- and we can do it with love. We do not need to suffer when the outlook is bleak. We can feel our feelings and still love. And by choosing to love our neighbor, we are choosing to take this small little plot we've been given, and to cherish it. And the outcome isn't one way-- your neighbor isn't the only one who benefits from your kindness. You are also liberated.
And, hell, if lightening your load by lightening another's doesn't give you a better life, then you can always go back to being angry and doomscrolling. The option is always there. What do you have to lose, then, by choosing love?
That's to say, we aren't tell you what to do. We're telling us what to do. We can't absolve you of your distinct hatred of the newscaster on the station you hate whose face makes you so mad-- but what's your excuse? Who benefits? And what would happen if you love them, too?
Love Them, Too
Written by Mallory Graham & Scott Tyler
Pick your son, pick your daughter,
Pick your long estranged father,
Pick your mother, and her brother,
And your sister, too.
Pick your neighbor, pick your neighbor’s neighbor
Pick their next door neighbor– hell, pick a stranger,
Pick that troll on the Internet
Who has never met you.
And love them, too.
Love them, too.
Find someone who’s lost, who you don’t trust,
Who can never know the cost
Of all you’ve given them that you can never get back again.
Find a preacher, find a witch,
Introduce the poor to the rich
Find someone you don’t understand because you thought they were a woman,
and they’re telling you they’re a man.
And love them, too.
Love them, too.
Find a victim, find a bully,
Oh, for all that’s good and holy,
Find someone you didn’t see fit
To shine your shoes.
Pick a politician– pick ‘em good,
‘Cause we got everything and everyone to lose
Pick that news anchor on the station you hate
Whose face makes you so mad, but you don’t got an excuse–
You gotta love them, too.
Yeah, you gotta love them, too.
You gotta love them, too.
Yeah, you gotta love them too.
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