A volcano can offer lessons about national solidarity

We went west for vacation this year, to Washington state. COVID-19 robbed us of travel for so long that it was possible to lose the sense of gratitude for this vast, gorgeous country.

People in Washington — as in San Antonio and Louisville, Kentucky, and other places we’ve recently visited — are incredibly friendly. It’s hard to imagine that we are a nation at one another’s throats when everyone you see on the street or in the markets or restaurants or on planes is smiling and polite. Meaning no offense to my hometown, which has other virtues, I was struck by how outgoing and helpful people in the “other”

Washington seemed to be as a routine matter.

On the drive to Seattle, I caught a glimpse of something on the horizon that was so imposing that I figured I must have imagined things. Must have been a cloud formation. But no, as we continued, it came into clear view in all its magnificence: Mount Rainier. Rising 14,411 feet from the base, the massive mountain towers over the Seattle/Tacoma region — the original Salishan name for the mountain was Tacoma.

It seems that Mount Rainier is considered one of the most dangerous volcanoes on Earth. It is one of 16 volcanoes around the world designated as potentially catastrophic. First, it’s so close to a large population. Second, it is covered in 25 glaciers and a yearround snowcap so that an eruption would mean not just lava, gas and ash but a massive melt that would send lahars — slurries of rock, boulders, mud and debris — more than 400 feet deep into the populations in the surrounding valleys. And third, it has shown recent geological activity.

Mount Rainier has been quiet for more than 100 years, but that’s nothing in geological time. And even with warning, the destruction would be almost unimaginable.

Aside from prompting reflections on the precariousness of human existence, learning about the danger posed by beautiful Mount Rainier caused me to think about national solidarity. Doubtless you’ve seen the polls showing that a rising number of Americans are thinking about secession — about tearing this country apart.

But think about that mountain and its looming threat. Clearly, a massive eruption or earthquake or tsunami anywhere on the globe would be a tragedy. And yet, because this danger is in Washington state, I would feel it more acutely than if it struck Colombia or Japan or Guatemala (among the other nations with worrying volcanoes). I’m not related to anyone in the Seattle/ Tacoma area. I don’t even know anyone in the area. I live farther from Mount Rainier than I do from Managua, Nicaragua.

But it’s still my country. They are my people. Yes, even if some of them think Drag Queen Story Hour is a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. And yes, even if some of them think that Donald Trump should be president again. There is a kinship there. They are my countrymen, and I care about them more than I do people in other lands. It’s parochial, yes, but that’s the way human beings are made. We care about our families more than our friends, and our friends more than our neighbors, and our neighbors more than strangers. And we feel solidarity with others in our nation.

Let’s try to remember that fellow-feeling is built up over decades and centuries. It can span continents. It’s remarkable, really — a gift — and ought not to be squandered.