Several years ago, I agreed to keep my blog posts away from political topics.
I have good friends on both ends of the political spectrum, which seems to widen by the hour. My guess is, my family is split right down the middle. I can talk about changes in the weather or how my favorite sycamore tree is transforming from green to bright yellow and orange. I can inquire about college classes delivered to my grandsons’ bedrooms. But the run for the presidency? I keep my mouth shut.
The president came to Carson City last week. Lines began to form at 7 a.m. for a speech at 4 p.m. Trump fans hoisted flags and banners and shouted for four more years. The spectacle looked like a Michigan versus Ohio State football game (honestly, it made me hungry for a pregame brat).
As an older American whose dad fought in World War II, I watched from the sidelines. I’m saddened by the split in my country. I feel personally hurt by the lack of civility on both sides. I fear for the health of the country I love.
However, today I feel one responsibility I need to fulfill, regardless of all the Carson City gridlock: I must find a safe route to the grocery store to pick up string beans for dinner.
And yes, on November 3, I need to vote.