Trying to understand the Other
Adventures in empathy, plus Links of the Week: John Grisham, learning with your ears, a video-game heist, and much more
Last week I ended up in New York City for a day, doing some dog research (the Museum of the Dog is a lovely place to spend an hour or two, and it’s just a couple blocks from Grand Central Station).
But the thing I was most excited about was going to see Alex Edelman’s one-man show JUST FOR US. Alex’s show has become a bit of a phenomenon in New York—it’s been running since December, and everyone from Stephen Colbert to Jerry Seinfeld to Billy Crystal to Steve Martin has come to check it out.
I was there with my dear friend Joe Posnanski—we both live in Charlotte, but happened to be in NYC on overlapping business trips. There were also celebrities in the crowd the night we were there—in fact we were sitting among several, although neither of us knew it at the time.
Joe and I met Alex a couple of years ago when he was in Charlotte opening for another brilliant comedian, Gary Gulman. Alex immediately struck me as someone who was not just smart and funny as hell, but game for anything. The comedy club in Charlotte had put him up in an apartment near a little strip mall that included a karate studio. So he wandered over there for a class and basically let the students beat the crap out of him for a couple of hours.
That spirit is at the heart of JUST FOR US. It’s based on a true event: Alex saw an open invitation for a meeting of white supremacists and decided to show up—without telling the others in attendance that he is proudly, and extremely, Jewish.
What follows is a story that’s hilarious, because it’s Alex, but also thoughtful and complicated and moving, also because it’s Alex. At the core of the story are a couple of difficult questions: How do you try to understand people who hate you? And is it worth the trouble?
Maybe you’re like me and you’ve been thinking about that a lot these past few years. We seem to be at a point, at least politically, where we don’t seem to disagree with each other as much as despise each other. In some ways, I don’t know how to get around that. I feel that a lot of what the hardcore right in this country has done is, in fact, despicable. But I also know a lot of the people who support (at least some) of those policies, and voted for (at least some) of those politicians. And I know they’re not despicable people.
At some level, it doesn’t matter why other people believe what they believe—politically, it’s our job to vote about what we care about and try to beat the other side. But I do think it’s important to at least try to dig down deeper, and to find out whether those views we have so much trouble with are as hard as bedrock or just sitting on clay.
Alex, to his credit, is giving it a shot—not just by putting himself among the white supremacists, but by standing up and talking about it on stage. I’ve been thinking about his show since the moment we saw it. I hope it eventually reaches a wider audience, through film or TV or something, but in the meantime: If you’re in New York, go see it. And if you’re not, it’s still worth thinking about.
Before we get to the links, a little newsletter business:
When I started The Writing Shed a few months ago, I set up a simple structure for paid subscriptions: $50 a year or $5 a month. That’s pretty common in the Substack world. But I also added a tier I called the Golden Ticket, for anyone who wanted to donate $250 or more a year. I sort of doubted that anyone would actually do that, but I wanted to leave an option for anyone who a) really loves the newsletter or b) hit the scratch-off and wants to spread some money around.
I’m thrilled to announce that our first Golden Ticket subscriber signed up this week. I’m still trying to figure out the perks for the Golden Ticket, but at the very least, this subscriber will get a signed and personalized copy of my dog book when it comes out. That’s not enough, though—I’ll be coming up with some more goodies.
This is the part where I tell you that paid subscriptions—at whatever level—are the logs that keep this fire burning. I was thinking that we should do a Q&A for paid subscribers soon, and maybe a couple of other things—if you have any ideas, pass them along. In the meantime … we always welcome everyone, but if you’re so inclined:
10 things I wanted to share this week:
My other post this week was about what to do with a dead possum.
My weekly for WFAE was about the legacy of NASCAR track owner Bruton Smith.
I’m always drawn to writers who know so much about the inner workings of a world they love. My friend Justin Heckert is that person when it comes to video games. His piece for Vanity Fair on a video-game heist, at its heart, is about why we care about what we care about.
David Marchese, the master of the Q&A, talks to John Grisham about his new book and his Southern demons.
DOG NEWS: While I work on my book, I’m devoting this slot to dog stories. This week: Scientists have always thought that all dogs developed from one type of wolf. Turns out that maybe it’s TWO types of wolves.
One thing I’ve learned working in audio is that the best audio stories are sticky—I remember them longer than stories I absorb in other ways. Robert Krulwich, longtime host of the brilliant podcast RADIOLAB, wrote about seeing with your ears.
This piece on “budget culture” really made me think, especially about the connection between financial health and physical health. One thing in common: Diets rarely work.
Directly in the center of my wheelhouse: An appreciation of the blackwater rivers of south Georgia.
We watched YOU’VE GOT MAIL this week because it’s leaving Netflix at the end of July. Three quick thoughts: 1) I still think Meg Ryan was a little too forgiving of the guy who put her out of business; 2) I’m not sure how every man (and most women) in New York were NOT in love with Meg Ryan; 3) Damn if that last scene didn’t get me again, 24 years later.
And having said all that: Any movie that uses “Signed, Sealed and Delivered” gets an extra star in my book.
See y’all next week, everyone.