Kindly Unfriend Me to My Face

Editor's Note: The following is a guest post by Riaz Patel

About a week ago I was "unfriended" by someone on Facebook. Since then, I have spent many nights wandering around my kitchen at 3 am. And as I poured yet another bowl of cereal by the light of the refrigerator, I asked myself: was I a truly good person? If so, why was I so easily disposable? Perhaps I was completely unaware of aspects of myself that are deeply objectionable to those who know me.

To be clear, I don’t spend a lot of time on Facebook. In fact, I often forget to look at it for days on end. Which is all to say, the “minus one” in the Friend tally wasn't an ego hit. It was a heart-directed strike.

Because this wasn’t just a friend on Facebook. This was an actual Friend. Capital “F.” For well over a decade.

We’d met through work ages ago and had immediately taken a profound liking to one another. And as we built our careers, we’d always make it a point to celebrate our successes together as well as offer support during those times when Hollywood can leave you flat on your back and feeling alone. Since 2011 we’d regularly volunteered side-by-side at a domestic violence shelter and those experiences, in particular, became the basis of an even deeper friendship. We were so close, in fact, that as recently as this past May she was the “you-just-brought-your-baby-home-and-I-can’t-wait-to-meet-her-so-I’m-heading-over” kind of friend. I’m actually looking at the photo as I type.

So when that kind of friend decides they don’t even want to passively see or hear about your existence, it definitely stings.

In hindsight, I have to say I appreciate the sensitivity built into the overall design of Facebook that it does not announce or highlight each time a person drops you from their world of awareness. It saves us all a lot of exactly this particular brand of pain. So how did I know I had been disposed of, you may ask?

By fate. I happened to run into a mutual friend at a party last week. And we had spent hours chatting before she felt quite comfortable enough to ask about the "blow-up." Whatever argument had erupted between the two of us, she hypothesized, must have been fiery enough to incinerate a friendship of that many years. As she spoke her eyes were brimming with truly empathic tears as she noted that these were dark days, indeed.

My eyes, in contrast, were as wide as dinner plates as I asked what on earth she was talking about. The friend she was referring to and I had just texted a few weeks prior, I stammered as I fumbled for my phone to show her the actual last exchange. The very last word being “Adorableness!” referring to a recent photo of my daughter. There had to be some misunderstanding.

So, I checked my Friend list on Facebook right then and there: Gone. I checked the other forms of social media we had used for years to follow one another in our busy lives: no trace of her. I was stunned. I remember feeling very sick, very quickly.

She had vanished from my life. Why?

I came to find out it was because I was talking to someone from waaaay over on the "other side." A new friend named "Glenn."

Someone she thinks she knows from his reputation in media. Someone whose value system she thinks is flawed. And someone whom she thinks believes in things that she doesn’t.

But here’s what is so strange: she never asked me if I agreed with these so-called “beliefs” of his. She never even asked me to discuss the thing, in particular, that so bothered her. And here’s the kicking-est kicker off all: I don’t even know what the “thing” was.

Why? Because she never told me. She just silently opted out of my life and I was only just accidentally finding out.

Think for a minute if there existed a type of magical scale that could somehow accurately measure the weight and importance of all the experiences we have in life. On one side of that scale, I would put all the weddings, birthdays, game nights, work successes, inspirational conversations that I had shared with this friend of mine, including the time we had spent with one another’s children. I would happily watch the scales tip heavily and fully to that one side in celebration of all that we had shared together in our common history as friends.

And then I would watch --- in shock, horror and disbelief --- as all that was reversed, and the scales shifted decidedly and definitely in the opposite direction because of the weight of one silent disagreement, the specifics of which I will never know because she never offered me the dignity of a conversation.

As a result, I have spent night after night down a rabbit hole of self-doubt because one of my dearest friends didn’t think me worthy of a little guidance in understanding something about which she obviously felt so strongly. Fueled by Raisin Bran and worry, I have been flinging metaphorical fistfuls of hay in the air, searching all over for that pesky “needle” of a mistake I may have made. Five cereal boxes down, and I still don’t have an answer.

So why write this piece about a friendship that no longer exists and about a question to which I may never know the answer? Since I have been cut out of her life entirely --- as have almost all of our common friends --- it’s not because I harbor hopes of her one day reading this. In fact, I’m not writing it for her, at all. Here’s to whom I am writing it:

  • Anyone who has done the same on Facebook
  • Anyone whose recent Superbowl party had similar absences
  • Anyone who has been avoiding “that cousin” at Thanksgiving
  • Anyone mourning a time when personal relationships weren’t "collateral damage" in elections and politics

 

Because the worst feeling of all was that, in her eyes --- eyes that have seen me for a decade --- I wasn’t even worthy of a teachable moment. So here’s what I believe with all my heart and why I am writing this:

Whether you are a Trump-voting coal miner in Charleston, WV (where I lived as a baby) or a newly-energized liberal activist in Los Angeles (where I live now) I believe everyone deserves the opportunity and the dignity to teach and be taught. A moment to say: “This is what you may not know about my life. This is what I’d like you to understand.”

And all the person on the other side has to say is... absolutely nothing. To try not to focus on what they are saying, but the way they are saying it. are they saying it? Are they hurt? Or angry? Do they feel powerless? Or afraid? If so, about what? Those should be your follow-up questions, not the legitimacy of their "Alternative Facts." We need to dignify one another’s humanity enough to humble ourselves and actually have the conversations, even if they are uncomfortable.

I’m not saying look away from politics and all that matter to you and your family --- but I am saying don’t forget to also look toward those who are standing right next to you and what matters to their family.

I believe dark days can and will turn into pitch black nights when they lose any light of hope. But as bad as things seems now --- like that painful feeling of having lost an old friend --- they cannot get worse if we simply do not let them.

Christians are conflicted when it comes to President Donald Trump. Some proudly support him and his policies, while others just can't accept the man behind the boorish language.

Ruth Graham, daughter of the late evangelist Billy Graham, joined Glenn Beck on "The Glenn Beck Podcast" this week to make a case for the president from a Christian's point-of-view.

Watch a the clip from the podcast below:

Watch the full interview below:


Want to listen to more Glenn Beck podcasts?

Subscribe to Glenn Beck's channel on YouTube for FREE access to more of his masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, or subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution and live the American dream.

Use code GLENN to save $10 on one year of BlazeTV.

WATCH: Dem goes to Trump rally and realizes Dems are screwed in 2020

Image source: BlazeTV screenshot

On Thursday's radio program ,Glenn interviewed Dr. Karlyn Borysenko, who described what it was like attending a President Trump rally as a Democrat. She told Glenn Beck that crossing party lines is nearly forbidden in liberal circles but she branched out anyway — and learned quite a bit about the other side.

Watch the video below for more on this story.

youtu.be

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Want more from Glenn Beck?

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Ryan: Bernie at the airport Holiday Inn

Photo by Sean Ryan

(Part One) . (Part Two). (Part Three).

Some poor guy booked a hotel at the Holiday Inn Airport Conference Center in Des Moines on February 3, 2020, assuming it would be a harmless Monday night. Only to find himself in the middle of an overflowing Bernie rally on the night of the caucuses.

For the record, the man was not a Bernie Sanders supporter. Far from it. He popped his head backward when I told him where I work, smiling. Well, grinning, to be precise.

*

After her speech, Klobuchar wandered into the crowd, immediately submerged. Selfies. Everybody wanted them. A minute later, the other candidates began to appear on screen, giving speeches.

"Bernie," asked Justin Robert Young, host of Politics Politics Politics.

"Bernie," I said, and we paced to the car and lurked out onto the depopulated streets and the trenchant cold. But we were both bright with excitement, a couple of detectives. The valet attendants in their satin outfits saw two oddities, and they were right.

Justin Young and I had just left the Des Moines Marriott Downtown for Amy Klobuchar's "Amy for America caucus night party." She gave her speech, in a brilliant maneuver. I skated the Nissan down empty streets, quietly listening to Bernie's speech on the Iowa Public Radio station.

"I love this, what we're about to do," I said, gripping the wheel, words hurried, leaning forward, tapping my left boot. "We're going to hear Bernie talking, then we'll park, then walk through some doors and we will stroll into that very room as Bernie is giving the speech that's being broadcast to millions of people."

It was like how in the game Mario Bros., Mario can jump into giant green storm drains, occasionally. Like leaping into the television and joining the cast.

"There's nobody out on the roads," one of us said. "Holiday Inn, right up there." As broad-winged commercial airplanes floated overhead. We scoured for a parking spot and each second felt wasted. Urgent. We needed to be inside that hotel. But there was nowhere to park. Even the illegal spots were taken. Cars had creviced every inch of parking lot and curb and all that, had even jammed into dark pyramids of sludge.

*

Rita Dove wrote, "I prefer to explore the most intimate moments, the smaller, crystallized details we all hinge our lives on."

*

There were so many more journalists press at Bernie's event that the only media spots left were in the overflow room, which itself seemed at capacity. Dank, too. With a heavy vibe, like a sinister library.

The entire hotel exuded gloom. A quietness you hear in locker rooms after a game that should have ended differently.

Bernie supporters, dazed, stomped out into the snow, or to the bathrooms, or just in need of a bit of stomping.

*

Back to Beechwood Lounge, where we watched the Super Bowl a day earlier. Although it felt like a week had passed since then.

Approaching midnight, by that point.

Because Justin consumes politics with an all-encompassing urgency. As if it's a duty. He's clearly studied history and politics for years. Part historian, part political scientist, but also part reporter and part comedian. On one hand, he's guided by the old school approach to journalism. Objectivity. Solemnity. Accuracy.

An American has the right to tell nobody who they voted for. Or maybe it's a cultural thing.

Snow everywhere you look, piles of it full of gas and oil, and rubbish as well. That day was unseasonably warm. The next would plummet us into literal freezing. The kind of day that slows everyone down. With all that ice, you have to be cautious about every step.

Shame is for the uninitiated.

Thanks for reading. New stories come out every Monday and Thursday. Next week, a look at Socrates' sarcasm and Cardi B's political aspirations. Check out my Twitter. Send all notes, tips, corrections to kryan@blazemedia.com

In 1990 Michael Bloomberg's employees created a short book full of crude, sexist, and shocking quotes he allegedly said at work, including one story that has him telling a female employee to "kill it" after she announced she was pregnant. Sadly, that story has him fitting right in with the Democratic party in 2020.

The booklet, titled, 'Wit & Wisdom of Michael Bloomberg,' has resurfaced to haunt the Democratic presidential candidate after "The Washington Post" published the full text on Saturday.

On the "Glenn Beck Radio Program" Monday, Pat Gray and Stu Burguiere (filling in for Glenn) shared some of the less colorful (many were too lewd to be repeated on radio,) but no less disgusting quotes.

Watch the video below:

Want more from Glenn Beck?

To enjoy more of Glenn's masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution and live the American dream. Use code GLENN to save $10 on one year of BlazeTV.