By David Fortier

Come Sunday morning, I will have spent every available moment listening to the second impeachment of the former president. (And of course, we all know the verdict.) It was tough not to listen, it was exhausting to listen, it was impossible not to listen. 

And life would go on. Life got lived, food was eaten, trash got taken out, dishes got washed, masks were worn, people distanced, hands were washed, work got done. 

And the whole time, the clock was ticking, at least that is how if felt. Anything that required deep thought, forget about it. 

Exhausting. Mentally exhausting. 

And when the verdict was rendered, I had only one thought. It wasn’t joy or sadness over the verdict. It wasn’t a thrill that we could move on.  

It was this: Let’s just take a moment, a day, two days, a week, to let what happened sink in—just back off and slow down and give some time to considering how this happened, what it involved, how it was portrayed, the arguments, the counterarguments.  

Consider it all in quiet, no loud headlines, no finger pointing; and afterwards to come to a decision about what it means to being an American. 

And then, perhaps, from this place of quiet, perhaps, talk to others about their experience. 

Of course, this is an entirely idealistic, entirely unrealistic, position. No more than three seconds after the verdict was rendered, I checked my phone to see the headlines. My phone is not one of those big ones—the headlines filled the screen. 

The stories followed. Following the stories, opinions, and so it goes. Everyone skates along the surface of their emotions, reacting, taking sides, pointing fingers. 

Skating across the surface, rather than gathering information, reviewing the evidence, doing a gut-check, might just be the problem with how we approach the issues of our day.  

Maybe not—and certainly not when we are steeped in an event. Everything is too close. And when things are too close, they influence every aspect of our days—including dinner time, taking out the trash, dealing with the kids, absorbing new information and getting any work done. 

I find I talk to myself so much more than I ever have. And most of it is talking myself down. 

“David, let’s just listen, not jump to conclusions.” 

And so that’s what type of week it was—fostering listening, following the evidence, the arguments, all of it.” 

My only hope—that many of us did the same, and that we are better for having done so. 

“Come Sunday morning” is intended to be a weekly review, a recounting of the past week and an anticipation of week to come. Among its features will be reviews of old and new books, sharing of favorite podcasts, some family news, Bristol events and happenings, and issues surrounding education, work and community journalism. He can be reached at dfortier@bristoledition.org.