But “staring out the back door screen while listening to the news repeat itself” is not just the purview of those with more decades to reflect upon. Increasingly, loneliness is part of the human condition.

We’ve distanced ourselves from one another. Even in proximity, we seem more focused on our differences and disappointments than the condition of our whole cloth.

We are quick to blame “others” for what we fear or what we deem broken. In the capacity of conflict resolution facilitator, I’ve heard many self-described open-minded, prosocial individuals harshly judge those they know nothing about, citing skin color, religious beliefs, education level, nationality or income strata as justification.

The normality of podium-level dehumanizing, gun violence and anonymous, brutal enforcement of deportation crushes the lives of those directly affected and the spirit of witnesses. The denial of basic human needs, including belonging and dignity, observed daily, hardens hearts. Those cruelties encourage fear and diminish hope, leaving us all victims of the isolation Prine laments.

Scholars and pundits have considered how to heal our nation. The need for revolutionary change is common across national-level political and civic recommendations. I believe it is imperative at the grassroots level as well. The ability of individuals and communities to thrive depends on the quality and consistency of our engagement with one another. When communities are cohesive and principled, they’re more able to withstand leadership failures.

The importance of “weak ties” reemerged during the pandemic when we collectively mourned the absence of interactions with baristas, colleagues, neighbors and other casual acquaintances. In 1971, Stanford sociologist Mark Granovetter published a then-groundbreaking paper on the importance of these casual relationships. “Weak ties connect you to networks that are outside of your own circle. They give you information and ideas that you otherwise would not have gotten.” Therein lies the ability to learn, cultivate empathy, gain competencies, build resilience and even secure employment. Revolutionary, for sure.

Admittedly, this seems as conceptually simple as a Hallmark Christmas movie. But quality interactions with loose acquaintances and strangers have become endangered. The proportion of Americans who feel they could reliably trust other Americans shrank to 34% in 2024. “Large shares of Republicans and Democrats associate negative traits with members of the other party,” including closed-mindedness and immorality.

Social distancing from one another extends to those we once held dear. A 2024 Harris Poll reports, “about half of U.S. adults are estranged from at least one close relation.” Political differences are among the reasons cited.

If we hope to fortify ourselves against a weakening democracy, we’ll need to toughen up. “Aggressive compassion,” a term I heard while interviewing residents of Sperryville, Virginia, population approx. 300, sums up the required skillset. “Kill yourself with kindness in the face of frustrating disagreement,” explained a Sperryville Community Alliance committee member with project planning responsibilities. This involves digging deep within oneself to find the patience, understanding and resetting of priorities necessary for connected coexistence.

Aggressive compassion requires living with discomfort periodically. Avoidance isn’t allowed, and debate is off-limits. Cynicism? Forget about it. Polite discussion, curiosity and consideration of alternatives may be substituted.

Willingness to forgo arguments is essential because “we have everything else in common,” explained another Sperryville resident after laughing deeply at the red-blue divide that exists elsewhere. And rarely does one succeed in changing minds. Facts tend to be irrelevant. Trust, however, is essential for communities to prosper.

“Hello in There” finds the grief we secrete away. The song’s truth is simultaneously excruciating to endure and impossible to ignore, like some of the encounters we must courageously face with aggressive compassion. Prine reminds us of the emptiness felt when confronted with cruelty or, worse, abject indifference. That pain is part of the “everything else” we have in common. It seems revolutionary to start with, “hello.”

Julie Garel (juliegarel@me.com) is a researcher and conflict resolution facilitator living in Bethesda.

Debate should be avoided. No amount of conversation at your holiday gathering will change minds. That is rarely achieved, and only after a protracted, guided process. Efforts to persuade will likely prove upsetting. So, keep the conversation away from positions, facts and misinformation. Speaking about how a topic makes one feel instead of employing “get off my lawn” statements is peaceable and, possibly, unifying. It’s nearly impossible to become angry with someone who leads with the heart. This is easily accomplished by having guests answer questions such as, “How are you personally connected to this issue?” and “What emotions do you experience as a result of your connection?”

It’s also worth mentioning to your guests that their comments don’t need to be amplified by the thinking of others. It’s not necessary to include the feelings of family, friends, congregation members or “everyone I’ve ever talked to” as backup. If this occurs, remind the speaker, “We care about what you feel. Tell us more about that.”

Let everyone know that good intentions are to be ascribed to all comments. This reminds speakers to assess the motivation behind their words before speaking. And it affords group members a fundamental level of trust in one another.

Discussing contentious issues is fraught with the potential to hurt others or to be hurt, which likely explains why we tend to avoid such conversations. Words and phrases, once deemed neutral, may now be imbued with negative implications. “Ouch” or “that didn’t land well” are relatively innocuous ways of pointing out when you or one of your guests has been offended. Pause the conversation so the group can discuss the implicit meaning of the offensive word or phrase. Unpack it. Then offer the speaker a chance to say, “Whoops, my mistake” and apologize before moving on.

A group I facilitated on race in America paused to discuss the meaning of a single word. A participant from another country had used it in what he believed was a benign context. In truth, there is no benign context for this word. Yet, that error and the comments it catalyzed contributed to the subsequent value of the convening. Participants shared their experiences with the word, and most importantly, how they felt diminished and despised whenever they heard it.

You can signal it’s time to wrap up the conversation by having guests identify common themes. “Where are there overlaps in feelings, but not necessarily beliefs?” This question allows reflection that can lead to cohesion of the group and, with any luck, relationships outside of your holiday gathering.

End the conversation by extending an opportunity to reflect. To think about what was gained, and where energy might be constructively placed in the future. “What do you want to say in closing? How do you feel about what you’ve said and heard?”

A group of women whose friendship had been damaged by conflict in the Middle East drew on sacred texts in reflecting on their renewed commitment to one another. One recited a prayer, first in Arabic, then English: “The human condition is chaotic. We face loss. Urge each other to the truth. Urge each other to persevere.” Another woman quoted a Hebrew text: “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” Conversations about conflict can be the truth, the work and the reward.

Julie Garel (juliegarel@me.com) is a communication strategist and group facilitator who lives in Bethesda.

Nothing meaningful will change until the Democratic Party’s leadership realizes it will take more than Vice President Kamala Harris (and her yet-to-be-named white male running mate) to reconstitute American hopefulness. We’re going to need an inspiring message, one that overcomes years of right-wing extremism turned mainstream.

According to a 2023 report from the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Americans are “emotionally polarized,” harboring “strong dislike for members of the other party” despite “sharing many policy preferences” and life experiences.

Adding to the challenges Democrats face is what moral psychologist Jonathan Haidt describes as “intuition first, strategic reasoning second.” In “The Righteous Mind,” Haidt demonstrates that we possess a set of intuitions that lead us to quick, instinctive conclusions. Empirical evidence is used simply to rationalize decisions we’ve already made or ignored if it runs counter to our instincts. So, well-reasoned policy discussions, improved economic indicators and compelling legislative records from Democratic candidates will not prove persuasive unless a solid base of emotional trust is established first. Individuals tend to open their minds when they feel seen, heard and valued.

Harris is an accomplished prosecutor and skilled politician, but she may not naturally inspire the foundation of trust Democrats must establish with a wide swath of potential voters. Harris and fellow Democrats must become impassioned messengers offering a sentiment that’s about more than just the candidates. The party narrative must allow Americans to see the best version of themselves at a time when loneliness, despair and rage have dimmed optimism.

Ironically, we can find direction on how to accomplish that formidable task by considering the disappointment of a former Democratic leader’s failed run for president. In “What Happened,” Hillary Clinton reflects on her 2016 campaign. “I skipped the venting and went straight to the solving,” she says. “That was my problem with many voters.” Clinton was most comfortable speaking about policy rather than allowing Americans to speak about their concerns and aspirations.

In 2024 and beyond, Democrats must listen humbly to the stories of Americans across the political spectrum. In so doing, they’ll learn about courage in times of distress and pride in having met challenges. They’ll hear about a desire to forge relationships across differences as well as fear associated with doing so. As a market researcher, I’ve had the privilege of discovering the common emotional threads that run through life stories from citizens across the country. We have far more in common than we’ve come to believe. People want to work together to build community and country. The Democratic message must reflect the inherent goodness and strength of Americans, particularly when they combine their efforts.

Mirroring our potential will not only inspire voters. It will invalidate vindictive GOP rhetoric. It helps create faith in what is possible rather than what or who is wrong. Democrats should not make highlighting Donald Trump’s flaws the centerpiece of their campaign. They are well-known. Maintain the moral high ground. Voters are aching for it.

When considering the narrative Democrats should cultivate, I am reminded of a scene that plays out far too often on the nightly news. Viewers bear witness to the aftermath of floods, fires and storms that leave homes destroyed, mementos collected over the course of a lifetime scattered and lives torn apart. The community response following those incidents depicts the essence of this moment in our American experiment.

Inevitably, after the storms, people gather to survey the challenge of rebuilding and to hold one another up through countless acts of goodness. Friends, neighbors and strangers extend support, from warm embraces to donations of food, blankets and other life-sustaining goods. No questions asked. Nothing expected in return.

In America today, we are standing together on razed ground. It has been scorched by years of fury from the culture war that’s been waged. Democrats must stand for our shared resolve and resilience, for our ability to meet challenges as one and to prove that we can still put principles above politics.

Julie Garel (juliegarel@me.com) is a market researcher and communication strategist who lives in Bethesda.

Before the assassination attempt on Trump, supporters of Biden were worried not just about his lucidity but also whether he’d be able to live up to his comeback-kid brand and overcome a disastrous debate performance against Trump. Now, however, by surviving a bullet wound during a rally, Trump has taken even Biden’s comeback persona away from him.

Biden stands no chance against a further-deified Trump. Ronald Reagan’s poll numbers increased by 8% after surviving the 1981 attempted assassination by John Hinckley. No amount of backslapping with NATO leaders, creating jobs or decline in border crossings can compete with candidate Trump now. Cult status trumps empirical evidence every time.

There is one move remaining for Biden, a path forward that could heal the country and elevate the president to the rank of Great Unifier.

Biden must, as soon as possible, deliver a national address from the Oval Office. He should start his speech by praising this country and its founding ideals, denouncing the animus and vitriol that led to an attack on Trump. Biden must remind Americans of what’s great about this country, how its people can demonstrate courage, reject division and come together to allow democracy to flourish.

The next words to come out of Biden’s mouth should be these: “I want to formalize my personal commitment to uniting the nation by calling on candidate Trump to join me in stepping down. New politicians with energy and vision must lead America.” Biden will tell the country he will release his delegates to permit the Democratic Party to select a different nominee. The acrimony surrounding the leading candidates and concerns about their age have clearly begun to compete with the greater interests of the country, Biden will explain.

Biden should call on Trump to take time to recover from the attempt on his life. The two leaders, Biden will say, can each serve the country in new capacities while supporting the future president, a next-generation leader who can transcend the country’s divide. Democrats and Republicans alike have the opportunity to unite in a history-defining moment, he’ll say, to choose humility, decency and unity as they embrace the future.

In this dream, it doesn’t really matter what Trump does in response to Biden’s speech. He’s been repositioned. Reconfigured into a wounded, angry elder. Of course, Trump will still be worshipped by many of his devoted supporters, but he’ll no longer enjoy the sense of magnetism and inevitability he has in this moment; he’ll cease to be the ascendant challenger. I wish him health and healing, but not in the Oval Office.

And since a girl can dream, the Democratic National Convention in August would become about country rather than party. Democratic strategists, I beg of you, don’t talk policy. You’ll never get a date to the prom that way. Appeal to our hearts. The hall should be draped in purple bunting, and purple balloons must rain down from the rafters. Both Democrats and Republicans should speak at the podium, so all Americans will feel seen and heard. And inspired.

Julie Garel (juliegarel@me.com) is a market researcher and communication strategist who lives in Bethesda.

It only takes a few small shifts to turn down the temperature. As conflict resolution practitioners, we can offer ways to mitigate risk and minimize damage.

First, be strategic. What can you do in advance to facilitate a positive experience? Begin with a seating arrangement conducive to constructive conversation. Maybe certain adults would be better suited to the kids’ table? At a minimum, place low-key guests between those who are more high-strung.

Prepare some questions and conversation starters. You can assign some to other peacekeepers in attendance. Music, film, art, work, school, Grandpa’s hip replacement, NCAA rankings, condiment preferences. “How ’bout them O’s?” works in a pinch.

The practice of gratitude has a unique stress-buffering effect. Since it fits naturally into the occasion, give it prominence. You can express your gratitude by thanking everyone “for keeping the conversation positive.”

For challenging groups, be more direct. We know that one dinner conversation won’t change the world, or even individual opinions, for that matter. Research shows that changing minds is extremely difficult, even when facts are compelling. We consume and reconstitute information to support our intuition. We must accept the fact that the only thing being swayed at the table is the jellied cranberry sauce.

If you find yourself in a heated exchange, prioritize listening to understand rather than listening to respond. In arguments, we often hold our breath, eagerly waiting for our chance to jump in. Challenge yourself to practice reflective listening by summarizing what you’ve heard and then asking, “Did I understand you correctly?” Here’s the secret sauce: You don’t have to be in agreement with a statement to acknowledge someone’s perspective. Additionally, you can show respect by embracing a strategic pause before replying; it removes urgency from the argument and signifies thoughtful consideration.

The key lesson in conflict resolution is to distinguish between a person and their perspective. You’ve read enough bumper stickers to know that issues can become part of our identity. But maintaining integrity in a debate involves addressing the position, not the person. Focus on expressing your personal ideas rather than asserting universal truths; a simple technique is to begin sentences with “I” instead of you. Thanks to the psychological effect of “mirroring,” this often prompts your conversation partner to do the same.

In Case of Emergency, Don’t Break Glass. Certain comments beyond your control may ignite conflict. Before anyone has time to meet fire with fire, consider your options for de-escalation. Try to respond with a simple acknowledgment. A statement like, “I understand you feel that way,” will suffice.

Empathy is, perhaps, most difficult and most meaningful in this situation. When a comment deeply offends, we rarely become curious about why an individual lashed out. Angry words, like rivers, have a source. “I’d like to know more about how you came to feel that way. Let’s talk later.”

Don’t forget the most powerful and underutilized tool: silence. Songwriter Cole Cheney reminds us that “Sayin’ less makes your words mean more.” You can let the combative comment land with a thud. Pause. Then, redirect the conversation.

We acknowledge there’s no perfect recipe for a conflict-free Thanksgiving. Families and friendships can be a beautiful mess. The collection of identities, opinions and needs gathered at your table may rival the disarray of dishes in the kitchen after the meal. Remember, you aren’t negotiating peace in the Middle East or Ukraine. You gathered for a heaping helping of food with a side of humanity. To quote “the grandfather of gratitude” and spiritual adviser, David Stendl-Rast, “The more grateful you are, the more beauty you see.”

Julie Garel (juliegarel@me.com) is a researcher and facilitator with expertise in conflict resolution. Lauren Sowers (www.laurensowers.com) is a mediator, facilitator, and communication strategist.

I looked forward to warming myself in the friendship we created nearly 30 years prior. Margaret’s natural enthusiasm countered my default state of worry.

Less than a minute into our conversation, I recognized a strange presence: things left unsaid. “I’m in a different place in life, now,” she offered by way of obtuse explanation. I had said the same thing, decades earlier, when I asked my first husband for a divorce.

Life experience, business leadership and conflict resolution studies left me ill equipped to comprehend why one of my closest friends had just broken up with me. In the weeks that followed, I struggled to accept the empty space in my life. I removed framed Images of our friendship from the bedside tables, shelves and walls of my home.

Margaret had accompanied my family to Vietnam to adopt our daughter. Margaret had lifted my arm in the air as we crossed the finish line of the Boston Marathon. How could she have possessed the energy for that grand gesture. How could I have run that far without the exuberance that came so effortlessly to her? She reminded me to enjoy the journey.

I debated how to move forward. Lashing out had gone out of fashion back in high school, along with big hair. Academic frameworks on reconciliation were inapplicable. I struggled to come to terms with this loss until the answer appeared in my Etsy shopping cart.

There it was, on the front of an ironic T-shirt I purchased for my son to wear to the Taylor Swift concert with his younger sister, a longtime Swift devotee: “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” That confessional lyric from Swift’s “Anti-Hero” promised self-awareness that would set me free.

I started by identifying all the counterproductive thought processes muddling my mind. What an assortment! I observed blame, excuse-making, denial and passive aggression rotating like Top 10 hits on FM radio. But what about Margaret’s responsibility in all this? I had to accept the fact that she would never know my hurt. She might never assume personal responsibility for the part she played. Taking sole responsibility proved oddly exhilarating. I could only do what I could do; I no longer needed to concern myself with behavior beyond my control.

Finally, I placed all recent experiences with Margaret on a stage and assumed a front-row seat. I pulled back the curtain. What had I said? How had I said it? What didn’t I say? And, most importantly, why?

My admiration of Margaret’s optimism had become a craving. The challenge of navigating a pandemic gracefully and hopefully for my children had made me needy. My desire to be reminded of joy discoverable in the journey rather than by simply arriving at the finish line obscured my judgment. I denied Margaret my empathy. I retaliated when she judged my worry.

“One day I’ll watch as you’re leaving because you got tired of my scheming. It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.”

The songwriter who alchemizes painful breakups into solid gold possesses a particular expertise in this topic after years of wanting to fit in, and feeling the sting of rejection and the power of owning mistakes.

“Don’t know what’s down this road, I’m just walking. Trying to see through the rain coming down … I’ll be strong, I’ll be wrong. Oh, but life goes on.”

Julie Garel (juliegarel@me.com) is a researcher and facilitator with expertise in conflict resolution.