The holiday season is here, and no December is complete without a cozy evening spent with the Bailey’s, Viola, Bert & Ernie and the rest of the friendly folks of Bedford Falls.
George Bailey, arguably one of the greatest movie characters ever written, embodies all of the qualities we admire and aspire towards. Selfless, thoughtful and humble, George loves his “crummy old town” and all of the people in it, much more than even he realizes. Despite the quiet desperation he harbors for the relinquished plans of his youth, he faces every challenge that presents itself to his community, and always does what he truly believes is best for the people around him – even if that choice doesn’t benefit him at all, personally.
When George finds himself in dire financial straits – caused not by him, but by another’s honest mistakes – his spirit is saved from despair by both the realization of how many people’s lives he’s touched, and the warm generosity and gratitude displayed by those same fellow citizens.
I often wonder how George Bailey would have fared here in Muncie.
Would he find the same fellowship from his neighbors here; or would the local Potters prevail, scrutinizing his every judgement in the hopes of finding fault and some excuse to condemn him to bear his burden alone?
Most people I know would answer that we would rally to his banner. Of course, we would. We’d dig deep into our pockets, purses, jukeboxes and divorce funds to save someone that’s been nothing but good to us, provided us with opportunity and stability, and made his town a wonderful place for “working and paying and living and dying.”
But suppose for a moment that George Bailey wasn’t from Muncie, but rather was Muncie. What then?
Oh, I can hear purses and wallets snapping shut all over town.
How different is it really, though? For generations, Muncie has been very good to all of us. It’s been a fine place to live, work, play and raise our families. It’s been affordable, accessible, and until only recently, has provided us with ample opportunity to provide for our families.
But now Muncie finds itself staring into the abyss, devastated by financial calamity. Sure, some of it can be attributed to poor judgement and questionable decisions; but most of it is due to honest mistakes made in good faith, and circumstances beyond anyone’s control.
Our own Potters cynically ask our city leaders “why don’t you go to the riff-raff you love so well? Ask them for help?” Others suggest cutting off the legs at the knee to save money on shoes and long pants. And some even decide that the city is worth more dead than alive, and point its leaders off in the direction of the High Street bridge.
Most of us, though, just quietly turn our backs as our once-beloved city becomes Pottersville.
The tragedy is that if each of us could reach into our pockets, and turn out one hundred-dollar bill, our community’s financial difficulties would all but disappear. We’d do it for George Bailey.
Perhaps, if we looked at our city government as a fellow member of our community, just as the people that comprise it are, we could view our economic dilemma in an entirely new light. We could all gather at the Bailey house, warmed by our fellowship, and ask how we can help; rather than simply demand that they do things differently.
If we could find it in ourselves to set aside our own personal ambitions and politics; dig deep, instead of merely suggesting to cut deep; and give something back to the city that has given us so much, then living in Muncie would truly be a wonderful life.
