Stay in your lane. Succinct as instructions go. One not to be trifled with if social acceptance matters to you. One to ignore if you’re driving in a city of any size or pursuing happiness.
I got my start in life on the farm. My folks were in the dairy business and dearly wanted me to follow in their footsteps. I loved farm life, but also yearned to explore what was beyond the fencerows. As I was about to graduate from high school, the farm economy was fragile to say the least, the future did not look bright for family farmers. Attending the funeral of a neighbor who’d taken his own life when the bank called in his loan and notified him of its intention to foreclose sealed the deal. I decided to change lanes, go to college. Dad disapproved and didn’t hide it. Mom wasn’t pleased either, but mostly kept her feelings to herself.
I struggled some with nagging feelings that I let my parents down. Looking back though, it was for the best. Fresh from finishing college and working briefly as an aide in Wisconsin’s legislature, I landed a job running a statewide civic education program for a highly regarded research institute. My boss had been a cabinet official in the administrations of two different Wisconsin governors, one a Republican, the other a Democrat. Not sure why, but he saw in me his eventual replacement.
Lacking any teaching credentials but plenty of fake-it-’til-you-make-it bravado, I gave 675 classroom talks all over the state in just four years. Made over 140 speeches to community groups. Gave guest lectures at the college level and presentations at teacher-training seminars. Co-authored a textbook and later a state curriculum guide. Heady stuff for a farm kid in his mid-20s. Loved the job. Left the job. Changed lanes again, abruptly, this time to join the Peace Corps. My boss was mystified. Mom was mortified. Dad had just two words for me. “Damn foolishness.”
I did not live to regret that lane change either. My time overseas was life-altering. Those two years spent in West Africa forced me to grow more than any other experience I’ve had. I shudder to think where I’d be—who I’d be—had I not done it.
Upon returning home, I got a job handling community and media relations as well as legislative advocacy for Wisconsin’s second largest public school system. Worthwhile work. High profile. Lots of responsibility. Best paying job I ever had. After six years, my head said stay, my heart said go. I followed my heart, left that job, took a 25% pay cut to join the staff of a government watchdog group I’d helped start in my spare time, the Wisconsin Democracy Campaign. Some eyebrows were raised; a few heads shook. I could tell one news reporter I’d interacted with frequently on school issues had a hard time imagining me in this new role and his questions reflected that.
The new role ended up being perhaps the defining one of my career, the one I’m best known for. I’m immensely proud of the work I did with the Democracy Campaign. Led the group for 15 years. It would have been a joy to lead it for 15 or 20 more. But deep down I sensed it was time to pass the baton. I left that dream job to start something brand new, a creation that would draw me into the turbulent waters of electoral politics. Benefactors who’d supported the Democracy Campaign frowned at the move. A news reporter who I’d helped uncover official misdeeds at the Capitol wondered out loud whether this lane change would harm my legacy.
Ah, legacy, stroker of egos, fodder for obituaries. Devoted friend of typecasting and career stability, fierce foe of changing lanes in the pursuit of discovery and renewal of purpose. Screw legacy. Live life to be fully and uniquely you in the here and now, not in hopes of controlling how—or if—you’re remembered once in the grave.
Since starting this Substack, I’ve been told more times than I can count that my voice is needed in the political arena, that I need to keep focused on speaking out about politics. In other words, that’s my lane and I need to stay in it. Trouble is, the biggest problems facing our society—the dishonesty, divisiveness, demonization, dehumanization—can’t be solved through politics. They are matters of the heart that require a moral reckoning. Once our society makes a change, it will be reflected in our politics, not the other way around.
From my vantage point, art is better suited than politics to the task before us in this troubled time. That’s why I chose to make yet another lane change and write a novel. It’s not about politics, it’s about those matters of the heart. It’s no accident that it’s set in a beleaguered country town very much like where I got my start in life, a place where people stay in their lanes, do as they’re told, become what they’re expected to be. It’s about outcasts, how they’re seen, how they’re judged, how they’re treated as a result. And, how they can work wonders given the chance.
The latest word from the publisher is my book’s due out on October 17. There, I’ve got my blinker on.
I appreciate your writing. To me, it's concise, clear, honest, and sincere. I look forward to reading your novel and may suggest it to my book group for a choice next year. Keep on keeping on. And change lanes whenever you want! Each lane has been important and worthwhile.