by Tom Pantera
Columnist

Even for a crusty, middle-aged guy who’s sat through more speeches than any human should have to, it’s hard to watch a presidential inaugural without feeling all warm ‘n’ fuzzy.

It isn’t the speeches themselves. It isn’t watching pols who, for once, actually speak with some civility to each other. It isn’t watching a president you voted for – because nearly half the country didn’t – take that oath of office.

It’s the looks on the random faces of people in the crowd that get me. That, and the realization that in so much of the world, what happens on inauguration day here only happens at the barrel of a gun. It’s one of the few times that you see something that goes in an unbroken line back to the nation’s founders.

And, more than anything, it gives me hope.

Ours is a very screwed-up country. Money, rather than concern for the greater good, is our real governing force. Fear is omnipresent, stoked by people who stand to gain from the terror of others. The Civil War might be nearly 150 years in the past, but the divisions that burst into flames then still smolder. Hell, we can’t even agree on what to call that particular war; what we call the Civil War in the North is still called The War of Northern Aggression in some parts of the South.

And we are still ruled by stark terror. The current gun-control debate is a case in point (I talk about the gun debate here only because it’s the most current). The NRA and its minions talk about how they need to defend themselves against the government, as though there really is an imminent threat of government troops marching down Main Street. Or they talk about defending their homes against intruders, as though every little three-bedroom in America is surrounded by crack-addled, murderous thugs who are champing at the bit to break in, kill a family and steal its stuff. To so many Americans, survival is a zero-sum game; the survival of that other person makes it just that much harder for you to make it. No matter what side you’re on, if you step back and look at it the level of fear is more than a bit creepy.

And by the way, I don’t exempt myself. I fear people like Wayne LaPierre; they would turn my country into the kind of armed camp I don’t want to live in. I fear people like Pat Robertson; I find their “morality” repugnant and would not want to live in a country ruled by an Old Testament God whose default impulse is not to love, but to punish. And like anyone, when I give in to the darker angels of my nature I feel righteous.

What we tend to forget, because we let slick people divide us, is that we are in this together. What really disturbs me about this nation is the downward spiral of the social contract, the waning of any sense of community. Because we are in difficult times, we turn our focus inward, to what is good only for us. We forget that what is good for us isn’t necessarily good for others and that their needs may be just as valid as ours. We forget that justice and peace only comes to a society when its members take care of each other.

And we forget that in a country born of conflict and bloodshed, that there are other ways to conduct our business. We are a warrior people; our expansion, both physically and in our place in the world, was preceded by the point of the spear. Indeed, one of the most fascinating aspects of the gun debate is that it really points out how much violence is part of the warp and woof of America.

But there are hopeful signs. As horrid as the Newtown massacre was, it’s forced us to confront questions of national character, everything from how we protect ourselves to how we deal with our society’s sickest and most dangerous members. Thoughtful people on both sides have realized that something big has to change. And the most thoughtful know that such change will come only in small steps, that the long view is the most important one.

I hate the idea of American exceptionalism. But to be perfectly honest, we are a special and unique people. There is something in our history and character that sets us apart from the rest of the world. Just as the Christian God is the God of second chances, America is the country not just of second chances, but of third and fourth ones. That’s even true when the chances are remote. Look at Lance Armstrong; as ugly as it is, his egomania is born of the hope that he can get past the evil he has done and can somehow redeem himself. There’s a lot of cultural sickness wrapped up in that, but his attempt to rebuild his reputation is rooted in that sense of renewal that is every American’s birthright. It probably won’t work, but the very impulse that drives him is very American.

This country is probably in worse shape than it’s been in my lifetime, but try as I might, I just can’t be a pessimist about America.

There are a lot of people who felt the bile in their throats as the president was sworn in. There are a lot of people who go to bed every night worried that they will awaken the next morning in some dystopian hell. But they are in the minority. Most of us live our lives in our streets and homes and workplaces and we have good days and bad, and when the day is bad we know that other days will be better. We know that we will live long, rewarding lives and if we’re lucky, will die with fewer regrets than fond remembrances. We will muddle through.

And there is great nobility in that. As long as we keep our eyes on that prize, things will work out. It would do us well to remember that.