There’s been a lot of political talk around our house lately, with the mid-term elections coming up and all. Even seven-year-old Luke has caught the vibe. After we recently heard Michael Jackson on the car radio singing “Billy Jean,” Luke started crooning his own version: “Dick Cheney is not my love…” He says he just couldn’t understand Jackson’s lyrics, but I think it’s evidence that our political indoctrination is working.

Our main focus has been the US Senate race between Rick Santorum and Bob Casey. Tom and I have been canvassing for Democrat Bob Casey, reconnecting with the moveon.org volunteers from the 2004 election. It feels good to be building a little progressive community in East Falls, which is not the most progressive neighborhood in Philadelphia. I also like the idea that we’re building a culture of voter turn-out, apart from any one election. Teaching the class on South African history makes me aware how we take for granted the right to vote, a right that so many people around the world have given their lives for.

The most inspirational thing I’ve heard lately was a talk at our Quaker meeting by two members of Combatants for Peace. The speakers were a Palestinian and an Israeli who have both laid down their weapons to pursue dialog. They each told their stories—the Palestinian had been a political prisoner, the Israeli an Air Force pilot—how they had come to work together, and why they believed in their work. During the question/answer period, they took turns addressing our concerns, often deferring to each other with obvious respect. The audience was rapt and sometimes teary eyed.

One of the most memorable parts for me was the way the young Israeli began his part of the talk. “Everything that I say and do, I do out of love of my country,” he said with gentle sincerity. He talked about why he always began this way, to make it clear that his criticisms of Israeli policy came out of love for Israel, not hate. He was calling Israel to its best ideals, the ones he had learned as a child, before he realized that Israeli democracy was not enjoyed by the people in the territories. He also argued that the violence against the Palestinians was not only bad for the Palestinians, it was bad for Israelis in the long term, ensuring they would never have lasting peace. He struck just the right tone, clear: honest, loving, and challenging. It struck me as a model of how to talk to Americans about the consequences of the United States’ aggressive foreign policy.

The problem here is that most people in the US are so far removed from the consequences of US policy they can’t imagine their long term effects. They certainly don’t know much history, if my college students are any indication. And most probably don’t want to know, if truth be told. This morning on CNN I think Barbara Streisand’s use of the F-word during a concert got more coverage than a new study putting the Iraqi death toll at 655,000. It’s hard not to feel despair or shame sometimes, although those feelings don’t do anyone any good.

I’m frankly not sure Bob Casey is the guy who’s going to lead us out of Iraq, but I’m hoping the Democrats will if they regain the majority. Certainly “stay the course” isn’t working for anyone, except perhaps Halliburton and the other profiteers. (Can you sing “Dick Cheney is not my love?”)

In the end, the Palestinian and the Israeli—as well as the South Africans I teach about and the Freedom Riders I saw on “Eyes on the Prize” the other night—are all reminders that ordinary people can make a difference when they work together. It’s just a little nudge to keep organizing my corner of East Falls.