Taking arms agains a sea of trouble

        Seven men gathered in the computer lab on Tuesday for their monthly meeting. They formed the club back in the 80s and enjoy talking about days gone by . . . you know, ancient history: before the Internet.
        I asked whether my using one of the machines would disturb them and they quickly made me welcome. Their friendly greeting provided an opening for me to pitch the WanderingDave.com website and to invite them to participate.
        When I showed off the map room, one fellow interrupted.
        “You’re gonna need a passport if you want to get back into the United States from Canada,” he warned.
        I smiled. This was a classic moment – an opportunity to be an advocate of truth and of open-mindedness.
        But the situation also presented a paradox. If I countered this well-intentioned but flawed advice with a dose of facts, I might “lose” this audience; but overlooking the misstatement would make me feel as if I were abandoning of my life-long compulsion to set the record straight.
        “I think you may be wrong about that,” I suggested. I was doing my best to follow Ben Franklin’s advice and “use terms of mild diffidence.”
        “I checked with the local official who issues passports and was told I did not need one.”
        Now, I would have been perfectly happy to let that dog lie – I don’t need to be proved right and I certainly don’t need others to come over to my side of every question.
        All I wanted was for my voice to be heard and for those present to recognize that there are two plausible schools of thought.
        But computer-club-member-number-two then chimed in: “No, he’s right. If you don’t have a passport, they’ll turn you away at the border. It’s a new law that went into effect last month.”
        Several others murmured agreement.
        I smiled again – though I suspect that my lips were thinner and some of the sparkle may have left my eyes.
        “Are you gentlemen not willing to admit to the possibility that you may be wrong about this?”
        I knew I was failing the Franklin test; but, believe me, this was a mild response compared with my historical retorts.
        Several remarks about “ignorant bureaucrats” and “it may depend on which crossing you pick” rambled by. I bit my tongue – vowing not to engage these ignorant wanna-be computer hackers in a battle of wits.
        Ah, some of you readers may deduce by my language that I’d already lost the battle for self-control, that I had developed a bit of an attitude. Perhaps I had.
        But one fellow allowed me to extend my silence by suggesting that we look online for the answer.
        Excellent, I thought. This could work out well after all.
        “Beginning January 23, 2007, All persons, including U.S. citizens…”
        Our online researcher began reading from a State Department website. His voice was filled with confidence and authority – here was the official word from the top dogs in our government…
        “…traveling by air between the United States and Canada..”
        OOPS! I was suddenly in a room filled with seven fellows who were suspended from the ceiling, hoist by their own petards. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but I’ll spare you the details.
        I resisted the temptation to say “I told you so.”
        Well, I kind of resisted.
        OK, I didn’t resist at all. I said, “You guys can all line up over there to apologize to me.”
        They took it well – though they didn’t go so far as to invite me to join them for their after-meeting pie a-la-mode…
        I retired to my room with a sense of accompishment. Perhaps these former miscreants will be less closed-minded in the future. And progress requires an open-minded populace. In a small way, I had championed truth, justice and the American way in the second-floor computer lab.
        I suspect that the club members may have talked about me later between bites of pie; but that doesn’t bother me a bit.
        “He didn’t have to rub it in,” one might have said.
        My favorite part would come next, though, when a thoughtful club member would feel compelled to conclude:
        “Well, he was right, you know.”
        Better to be only right than to be only loved. But better still, I know, to be both right and loved.
        I’m working on it, Ben.