by Tom Pantera
Columnist

I was avoiding work by surfing the Internet the other day when I came across a site called realsimple.com that included a list of “Easy Ways to Exit Awkward Situations.”

I have pretty good social skills, but I’m always looking for ways out of awkward social situations, since I grew up in Minnesota and Minnesota Nice is pretty much bred in the bone. The list covered how to escape a bore at a party; how to gracefully cut off a telemarketing call; what to do when you’re stumped by a question; how to handle a spat with your significant other; how to deal with a story repeater (something anybody who knows me needs to learn, because I’m notorious for that); how to gracefully exit the wrong restaurant; how to escape a sermon; how to deal with a drunk co-worker; and how to deal with running into a long-lost “friend” you really don’t want to see.

All of those are useful skills, although some don’t seem all that difficult; I’ve never had much trouble leaving a restaurant or blowing off a telemarketer. Some, however, are a bit more difficult.

I often find it hard to extricate myself from a sermon, both because of current events and because I live in the Bible belt, where sermons are as common as hot dish in a Lutheran church.

The online piece wasn’t just talking about religious sermons, by the way; it also covered what to do when your crazy uncle goes off on some racist rant. Given that it’s an election year, the opportunities for being trapped in somebody’s oration are more common than they would be otherwise.

I don’t shrink from discussing politics, but I’m very careful with whom. The old advice about never discussing religion or politics at the dinner table is good and I sort of use that for a guide even between meals.

I have a relative who is an absolutely fantastic person. He’s one of the most honorable, thoughtful people I’ve ever met. We’ve had very few in-depth political discussions, but I’m given to understand he’s at least, if not more, conservative as I am liberal. Whenever he mentions something political, which is very rare, I try to stay away from directing the conversation in that direction. In the first place, it would be pretty pointless; we’re not likely to change each other’s views. But more importantly, I would hate to damage a decades-long relationship with a fiery disagreement over the election. The payoff, whatever it is, just isn’t worth the potential cost. And I really, really like the guy.

Oddly enough, I’m more apt to discuss religion, although again, I’m careful with whom.

That’s particularly true here in Missouri, which is a pretty religious state. I think it speaks volumes that Todd Akin, arguably the stupidest candidate currently running for office, still has a shot at getting elected to the U.S. Senate; he gets a lot of support from evangelicals. So if you’re going to disagree with people on religious issues here, you do so at your peril.

The problem is that when I get drawn into a religious discussion, most of the time I’m being asked to discuss matters I consider deeply personal. I would no more discuss my religious views with a stranger than I would my sexual tastes – I literally consider the matter that personal – but it happens every so often.

A while back, I happened to meet a very nice man who belongs to a very conservative Southern Baptist church. Particularly after he found out I was raised Catholic, he began exploring ways to get me to convert. Now, I’m no longer a practicing Catholic, so becoming a Southern Baptist would be like resigning from the Army to join the Marines. I managed to fend the guy off, but it was a bit uncomfortable, even though he was very nice about it.

But what irritates me about such conversations is the implicit insult they always contain. When someone tries to convert you, the assumption is that they know the truth and you’re just ignorant or, worse, thoughtless. If they can just point a thing or two out to you, you’ll have that road-to-Damascus experience.

That must happen sometimes. People do, after all, convert. But I came to my spiritual beliefs after a long road and much thought. It drives me absolutely crazy that somebody can hear about those beliefs and say to themselves, “Well, he’s hasn’t thought about it; if he knew what I knew, he’d agree with me.”

In fact, that’s become the trouble with public discussion of all kinds in this country. I’m as guilty as anybody. For example, I generally cannot fathom why any American woman would vote for the Republican party, with its retrograde and dangerous view of women’s issues.

Still, I’ve been making an attempt to find out. I asked one of my more thoughtful students who she was going to vote for and she said she hadn’t decided. She said she didn’t like the GOP position on women’s issues, but for her, the economy was paramount. She’s looking at entering the job market in a couple of years and her biggest concern is whether she’ll find a job.

That makes sense, given the stage she’s at in life. I think it’s a little short-sighted, but I could be wrong. And anyway, I’m not in her position, so I can hardly judge her criteria.

Maybe if this country really wants to move forward, we have to realize that. I don’t second-guess a lot of my own opinions, at least unless I see some new evidence. But I have to remind myself that even if something is self-evident to me, other people might have a good reason – or at least what they feel is one – for feeling differently. There are idiots out there, but honestly, they’re not all that numerous.

If we remember that, maybe we can start talking to each other like the adults we supposedly are.

Tpantera@yahoo.com