The [sometimes almost incomprehensible] Loves of Others [are maybe not so incomprehensible]

HouseWares (HW) came to me the other day at work, holding a wadded-up American flag.
"How much do you think we should price this?" she said.

"I don't know, a dollar ninety-nine?" I said. "There's not exactly a lot of fans in this neighborhood...".

HW said, "That's about what I thought too, but Ass't Man always wanted me to price them high," and she went back to her work area.

(AM did price a lot of things too high.)

Coworker mattdamon had overheard us, and he came up to me.
"Actually, a lot of veterans come in here. Someone might love that flag."
His dad, who is dead, was a Marine who'd served in Vietnam. "My dad showed me how to fold it to look cool."

He and his father had disagreed violently, I knew, but I felt his respect for this object that his father had loved, and I respect that.

"Let's fold it up nice," I said. "Can you show me? Go get it from HW."

He went and got the flag, and we folded it into a triangle.
I always thought that looked great, like a puffy Cheese Frenchee (deep-fried grilled cheese sandwich), and it's incredibly easy to do with two people, though actually we ended up with the stars on the inside... But anyway...

As we folded it, I told him I hadn't mean to disrespect the flag.
"It stands for wonderful ideals," I said. " I mean, I have the First Amendment up over my desk! And even if we don't live up to those ideals, sometimes we move in their direction."

He agreed--we're politically in synch--and he hadn't taken offense.

BELOW: I do think a leg stripe is a beautiful thing.
(The stripe on dress uniform's trouser seams has a name of course, which I just discovered: it's a lampasse.)

Feeling grateful that I'd been able to meet mattdamon over the flag, I remembered something important I'd learned from my Classics prof, Oliver:
that in studying people in history--(or in seeking to understand anyone, alive or dead)--pay attention to WHAT THEY LOVE, and strive to see it as they saw it.
It is a magic thread to their heart––through the maze of misdirection that personality constructs––not to see there their marshmallow-fluff sentiments, but to see in a glint-of-steel what drives them.

You may believe that Joan of Arc was a deluded schizophrenic, and maybe that's true (and maybe it isn't)--but either way,
you will never understand her if you don't understand how SHE saw her visions and grok the flint of her overwhelming love of God.

(I was surprised when I learned that Mark Twain loved Joan of Arc, but he's a great example of seeing through the trappings. He said his book on her was his favorite and his best book:
"Whatever thing men call great, look for it in Joan of Arc, and there you will find it."

ABOVE: "Joan of Arc" (w/ Saints Michael, Margaret, and Catherine appearing to her), by Jules Bastien-Lepage, French, 1879, via MMA

The fastest way to lose that guiding thread is through easy judgment.
If this were a fairy story, the seekers who say of an object of love, "It is stupid" would lose the thread every time.
It would only be the youngest, least powerful sibling––the one who felt they had nothing to lose and no right to judge––who would find the prince(ss)/the grail/the way out of the forest--who would release (recognize) another being disguised by a spell.

Whenever I hear myself say,
"How can they ever believe [x, y, z]?" I know I have locked down my imagination--that I am not bringing my full attention--to enter into that person's reality.

If I had not heard mattdamon's conflicted love for his father in his (mild) defense of the American flag, if I had not attended to that--if I had said instead "Patriotism is stupid", even though he might agree with that, he--the thread between us--would simply have melted away.

I'm as judgemental as they come, I think that's easy to see. But I always, always want to slip under over around the walls of judgement that I erect, because as much as I love feeling Superior and Correct, I love more the BETTER STORY.
The loves of others open a door in the wall. And that way lies a better story.