Farmers markets taught me about democracy

Communication is important. But it isn't enough anymore.

My husband and me at a farmers market in Newington, Conn./Photo by Anna Piech

Every summer Saturday for the last decade, I engage in my double life. I help my husband Pete operate a stall at a farmers market to sell the wide variety of vegetables, garlic and fruit that he grows on our acreage. 

He, the introvert, smiles and says little. I, the extrovert, talk, nonstop, to customers. 

In the years I’ve hawked veggies I’ve learned unexpected lessons. One is about democracy. It is more than voting. It is the ability to talk to each other. Many claim we’ve lost that ability as our social circles have less diversity. But farmers markets still attract huge variety of people. Several months ago, one memorable customer with a Gucci handbag offered me her platinum American Express card to buy $3 worth of tomatoes, all the while chatting nonstop on her cell phone. (Um, no thanks.)  I’ve also had countless low-income elderly folks and young moms ask me, timidly, if we accept vouchers for food purchases paid for by the state. (Absolutely).

One day in 2019 an elderly man approached wearing a TRUMP 2020 tee shirt and asked me, somewhat belligerently, what I thought of the president, saying he wouldn’t be a customer if I didn’t like his policies. 

I smiled and said that I was one of those awful, terrible, horrible liberals he might have heard rumors about, but whatever our differences, we could probably agree on summer squash. And how about these Sungold cherry tomatoes? Care to try one?

Then I noticed the gray stubble on his chin. His Trump shirt had food stains.  “No wife in the house,” I thought. 

The man lingered. I gave him a good deal on tomatoes. He began to come to our market every week. When I saw him approach, I would raise my arms as though signaling a touchdown and shout, “There’s my conservative buddy!” The elderly gent never approved of my take on issues, but he began to smile more. He would linger. And he always bought something, even if he just handed over a dollar for some garlic. 

One day he told me that his wife had died 14 months earlier. They had been married for 48 years. She was his very best friend. “I don’t come to the market to buy anything, really,“ he said, looking down. “It gets me out of the house.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, and I meant it. 

Would that all such instances of political detente were so easy, so heartfelt. In retrospect, 2019 seems like the halcyon days of democracy. 

Yes, we were more than halfway through a Trump presidency that was contemptuous of the views any but his own true believers, and never lifted a finger to unite the country. We had already seen plenty of Trump’s  norm-breaking delight, not to mention indecency, in encouraging white supremacy, breaking treaties, disparaging friends and allies and cozying up to dictators. 

But it was before Trump’s whopper that he won the 2020 election, before his attempted coup on Jan. 6, 2021, before he was impeached twice and and before he had racked up more than 30,000 blatant lies over four years.

Trump’s authoritarian influence has morphed into party dogma. So does his fantasy that he won the election, even after losing 60 legal cases over the issue. Such anti-democratic malice has now metastasized. Around 345 election deniers are running for office coast to coast according to one count by the Brookings Institution. The Washington Post counts 299. FiveThirtyEight is nuanced, counting 199 who “fully denied” the election was legitimate.

According to The Post, 10 election deniers are running for secretary of state, giving them power over elections, and at least two are going to win.  Fifteen of 36 GOP gubernatorial candidates are election deniers. Eleven deniers are Republicans running for the office of state attorney general. More than 200 deniers are Republicans running for House seats, many of whom are incumbents; 14 are running for Senate seats, according to The Post. This one issue has made the election among the most important of my lifetime.

I have heard, over and over, that we must be able to talk to each other to restore our democracy. Communication is becoming ever more rare. But I don’t think that’s entirely true. There are so many things that unite red and blue true believers: soccer games, church picnics, concern over potholes and traffic, love of dogs, grandchildren, leading scout troops and getting together to clean up beaches. 

But our country cannot be healthy unless we all stand up for democracy. And so far, the vast majority of those who are lying about elections, calling the Jan. 6 riot “a normal tourist visit,” speaking at a white nationalist conference, questioning the legitimacy of democratic institutions - are all Republicans. The Republican Party issued a statement that called Jan. 6 “legitimate political discourse” - as if rioters breaking windows, defecating in Capitol hallways, and injuring 140 cops could ever be so excused. 

The Democrats have their faults and we all must speak out. But in my view, Republicans, ordinary and well known, in office and out, have a special responsibility to denounce those who would shatter democracy to grab power.

The burden is on all of us to vote for those who support democracy and against those who support the Big Lie. 

I’ll never stop talking and listening with folks at farmers markets and elsewhere. It feeds my soul. But I’m worried about our country. And just talking is no longer enough.