Just because I (or anyone else) is connected in strong or faint ways to someone else, does not mean I share their every thought. Gee, I might actually disagree sometimes!
I should not have to "distant" myself from that person in order for other folks to believe me when I sincerely state that I don’t agree. We can still be friends! or acquaintances, or enemies. Although I don’t consider myself to have enemies. That might require the "hate" word, and to hate requires way more energy than I care to expend. I prefer to think, instead, of "those with whom I agree to disagree." *Note to potential quibblers: when I decline to hate, I am speaking in an informal, current sort of way. I maintain the liberty to despise, say, the inhuman policies of an Adolf Hitler.
In any case, how does one distant oneself from someone or something? What if I want to be friends tomorrow? Am I now a distant friend? Does a distanced friend nevermore allowed to make comments that might reflect on something I say or do today and in the future? How does one tend such a fragile friendship?
I like what Christ Lester wrote in The Kansas City Star (and I am cribbing this from page 7 of the 18 July 2008 edition of The Week). Lester is writing about the mood on Wall Street and the nation, but I think it also applies to me and my fellow whiners:
"That mood is gloomier than it needs to be . . . . The 5.5 percent unemployment rate is nothing compared to the 10.8 percent peak of 1982, and our 4.2 percent inflation is dwarfed by 1980’s high of 14.76 percent. Even the housing crisis doesn’t really affect many ordinary people who bought their homes to live in, rather than as part of some ‘highfalutin’ investment scheme. ‘It sometimes seems like we’ve completely forgotten what hard times really feel like.’"
I think there are more ordinary people, perhaps, than Lester thinks, who are affected by the housing crisis, and the rise of gasoline prices has surely affected many who were only scraping by before (a nod here to my daughter, a social worker, poorly paid, and putting triple digit miles on her car each week in the service of her job).
However, when I whine, I know it is because I have forgotten — or perhaps never knew in the first place — what hard times "really feel like."

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