God, We Need to Talk: A break-up/make-up story

This story originally appeared in The Bigger Picture.

The state of the world has made me a Trash Panda. I should probably qualify this.

A few weeks ago, my friend and I did what creative people do during a pandemic — we started a podcast. One week’s topic was baseball.

The behind-the-scenes here is that I know absolutely nothing about baseball or sports anything, really. I don’t even know how to ride a bike.

Predictably, my questions were not for sports sophisticates or even all that related to baseball (case in point: “Whatever Lola wants, should Lola get?”). So, I thought I was both clever and on-topic when I brought up a bit about silly Minor League baseball team names. It was then that my co-host schooled me that unconventional names are part grand tradition, part baseball in-joke. He then introduced me to the Trash Pandas.

The Rocket City Trash Pandas are a Minor League baseball team based in Alabama. They’re an affiliate of the Los Angeles Angels (which is, I’ve learned, a fancier, bigger team). The name selection was the 2018 result of months of brainstorming, with other name possibilities being — among others — Moon Possums, Space Chimps, and ThunderSharks. But, despite those other formidable competitors, the Trash Pandas moniker stuck and an adorable logo of a raccoon in a trash rocket soon followed. The team was expected to play its first game in 2020. And, having lived through 2020, you probably have a good idea of how that story played out.

I learned this in the days following the podcast, because I just couldn’t get the Trash Pandas name out of my head. It’s funny on face value. Because: It just is. But, the name also speaks to me of something scrappy, resilient, and silly. I like to think I’m all three of those things.

One night — encouraged by a hefty glass of quarantine-size wine — I went to the web site, plunked down my credit card, and treated myself to a Trash Pandas shirt.

I thought the story would end there, but it didn’t. I received a personal thank you email from the office of the CEO for the Trash Pandas. (I don’t think I’m a VIP; I just think they’re nice and customer service minded.) I then wrote back and what resulted was a lovely exchange with the CEO’s assistant where we both wished each other well during these uncommon times. She ended with a recommendation that I join the “Trash Pandas Nation.” Not wanting to disappoint my nice, new friend from Alabama, I did, clicking all the requisite buttons on Facebook.

Having been part of the Trash Panda Nation for a few weeks now, I would say that the topics in the Facebook Group are more baseball-adjacent than-baseball specific. The conversations quickly turn jokey. This is a group hell-bent on creating fun. What I can also say is that I found the people on there kind, hopeful, and helpful. For example, when the Blue Jays were in search of facilities, members of the Trash Panda Nation Tweeted the fine broadcasters of ESPN (assertively, but politely) to help connect the managers of both teams.

I’m part of some other interest groups too, like the companion Facebook Group to a podcast I listen to, a group entirely devoted to a discount food store, and another on weird second-hand items. At face value, each of these focuses on a different thing — an Alabama baseball team (and its totally badass mascot), women in history, good cheap eats, and unexpected finds, like a vintage Magnum PI lunch box. But, when you dive into the user posts and comments, you see a lot of commonality between these seemingly different groups. People use these groups as as a place to share their difficulties, their victories, and post pictures of tiny moments of joy. Even better, you see people in the virtual community commenting back with words of empathy, support, and celebration.

Here are just a few (of a few hundred) examples: There’s a young man on the autism spectrum who made it through 10 minutes of fireworks this year — a personal best. There’s the lady who felt uncomfortable in her own skin for 30 years, but posted a proud swimsuit picture of herself in a sassy one-piece she got at a great price. World Wheelchair Day was celebrated with much fanfare and a lot of great stories. Another woman shared that her victory of the week was finally calling a doctor to get a prescription for anti-depressants after struggling for months. The members of each of these groups span all ages, melanin of all variants, represent all socio-economic classes, and hail from different parts of the United States.

These groups are a soothing balm in comparison to my Facebook feed, which has become filled with content designed to get a rise out of people. Posts are increasingly polarizing. And, what is now a steady drumbeat of surliness will grow into a crescendo of vitriol when election season gets into full swing.

We live in a “Like”-based world. It’s not immediately gratifying to share an unpopular opinion or start a dialogue about a complicated issue. Sensible people with long-form comments are generally not a “Like Machine.” Posts about someone absolutely loving something or absolutely hating something get a disproportionate amount of attention. OK, posts about cute dogs do too, but they’re the exception, not the rule.

Now apply this line of thinking to complicated topics, like equality, education, heath care, personal responsibility. Each topic inspires strong feelings. Each topic also deserves a dialogue, building understanding, and taking meaningful action.

But, those things take time. And, we’ve come to place too high a premium on feeling good in the moment. We express our passionate commitment to a cause we sorta kinda forget 10 minutes later. We re-post that Karen meme because everyone will think it’s super funny. (That haircut, amirite?) We share political quips we simply don’t have the energy to back up with facts because it feels good to be play to the crowd. Like me or Love me: Your choice! And those who don’t share my opinion? Whatever. That’s what Snooze is for.

Fancier people than me have said this a whole lot better, but it all boils down to this: Change and discomfort go together like peanut butter and jelly. You can’t really have one without the other. The problem is that discomfort, like change, isn’t fixed in a day. Change isn’t a Tweet-length comment — it’s an essay question.

This is what brings me back to my beloved Facebook Groups. Why now am I finding such great comfort in them?

Sure, simple escapism is a factor. Who doesn’t want a five-minute break from their email (or bathrooming) with a bit of distraction? But, I think the bigger thing is people are not there for opinion sharing and validation, they’re there to build connection.

Facebook Groups are a window into a world where people start with a simple shared thread of interest and then weave these threads into something more rich and textured over time, content, and shared values. By removing the calls for personal affirmation in the guise of “Like me!” we can again connect on a human level, where we get to know people as people — their struggles, their joys, their hopes. It is that understanding which will ultimately enable us to fix challenges bigger than we are. And, in a world where live social gatherings are out of our reach at the moment, we need to make the best use of the tools we have.

It’s time for a new narrative, America — one that focuses on how much we’re close together than far apart.

There’s a Trash Panda in every single one of us — time to let it out.