The noise of campaign 2008 had finally made our ears ring, so Sunday morning my lovely bride and I piled into the car and headed to Rocky Mountain National Park.
By 8:30 a.m. we were walking in Moraine Park under a gray sky. An elk herd rested in the lees of a pine copse. It was led by a young bull whose undersized rack must have concealed other charms, for he stood watch over 30 cows. He bugled once, then silence.
I started chatting with a couple standing near us. We whispered to keep from spooking the elk. Jakob Eberhardt and Lora Rivarde had driven up that morning from Denver. “We caught the sunrise in Boulder and got here about 7:30 a.m.,” Eberhardt said.
Turns out they also sought solitude from the election furor. “Frankly, we just came up here for a little peace and quiet,” Eberhardt said, shaking his head. “We’ve already voted and just want Tuesday to be over.”
“If I could just stop hearing all the commercials on TV, it would be such a relief,” Rivarde said. “They don’t realize how the mudslinging turns people off.”
“The ads are pointless in the first place because they’re so repetitive,” Eberhardt said. “If you’ve got something useful to say, say it. Otherwise, shut up.”
Fifty yards off, the elk rested under the pines. The bull circled the herd, but the cows were nestled on the ground, stock-still except for the occasional twitching ear.
They were listening, and all around us was utter silence save for the wind sifting the pines and the leaf-stripped aspens.
It was the quiet I sought.
We have forgotten how to listen to each other in America, and it sometimes seems we have also forgotten the virtues of silence.
Oh, we’re great at talking, but too often — particularly in public dialogue — we talk at each other, not with each other.
I can’t put my finger on when this started, but I do know when it got worse. It was during the 1990s, when we tipped over into an onerous brand of public dialogue that put a premium on partisanship and name-calling and devalued anything resembling common ground and bridge-building.
Part of this can be blamed on the 2 4/7 news cycle and the people paid to shout at one another on political talk shows. Red-state ranters and blue-state bloviators share equal guilt.
But we are all in this compact together. As sentient adults, we should be able to tune out the noisemakers and do some real listening — that’s how you learn something new. When was the last time you opened your mouth and uttered something you didn’t know?
Just off Bear Lake Road, Gary and Kathy Falk stood by a one-lane bridge. They were stretching their legs for the hike back to their house, which sits just outside the park. The two are retired from the Department of Veterans Affairs, where they worked in the mental-health division.
“We support Obama, but whoever you support I think you’re tired of all the politics,” Gary said. “You just want to be able to get away from it all.”
Kathy agreed. “After 20 months of campaigning, I’m just ready for some peace and quiet,” she said. “Walks like these help.”
A quarter-mile away, out in the meadow, an elk stood against the rising wind, still and listening.
I hope we can relearn how to do the same.
William Porter writes Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Reach him at wporter@denverpost.com or 303-954-1977.
