David McElroy

For a political partisan, there are only two positions. His own position — parroting the party line of his group — is absolutely correct. Everybody else is lumped together. Anybody who dares to point out something which is outside of his group’s talking points must be shouted down.

Public discourse is a disgrace in this country, mostly because few people care about anything other than their side winning. Almost nobody is interested in another point of view, much less learning something which hadn’t occurred to him before — and which falls outside the bounds of his group’s talking points.

The faux controversy over an editorial delivered by close to 200 local TV stations owned by Sinclair Broadcast Group is a case in point. For instance, New York magazine had this headline: “News Anchors Reciting Sinclair Propaganda Is Even More Terrifying in Unison.” All the other news networks have had similar stories, mostly with headlines darkly reporting that TV anchors at those stations were “forced” to “recite Sinclair propaganda.”

What actually happened?

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I still remember the first time my father called me “fat.”

I was 9 years old. He and I were standing in the driveway of our home in Meridian, Miss. In just a couple of months, we would move yet again — to Anniston, Ala., this time.

He poked his finger into my little chest as we stood there. I don’t remember his exact words, but I remember being very confused at his anger. Nobody had ever said a word about my weight before. I seemed to be about the same proportions as all my friends, although I was slightly taller and was built bigger than they were. But my father angrily told me I had to start running — so I wouldn’t be fat.

I felt very ashamed of myself.

Not only did this mean I must look terribly ugly to everybody, but I had obviously disappointed my father. More than anything else, I wanted his approval — and I couldn’t ever seem to do enough. Or be enough.

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It makes my heart feel full of joy when my friends are happy. Seeing happiness in a friend reminds me that life in this world can be incredibly joyful — and I need that reminder sometimes.

I just saw a man who I rarely see anymore and I got an update on his life. When I first met Josh six or eight years ago, he was a young man working as an assistant manager at a fast food restaurant. By coincidence, I had known of his father — although his father was older than I was — when I was in high school about 45 miles from here.

Nearly five years ago, Josh married a beautiful and sweet woman and I was happy about that. He worked his way up to the top of management at a very successful restaurant. He was making a nice living, but he was working too many hours. I assumed he would stay on that path.

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