I had an exchange with a cousin of mine, yesterday, regarding one of my FB posts. Now this cousin is as smart as they come and is someone who has devouted his life to his community and his teaching profession. They don’t make ’em better than he and I’m blessed that we share the same grandfather.
Our brief exchange got me thinking about the state of things, now, in our country.
Most residents of Washington, DC; Manhattan; Marin County, Calif.; and Cambridge, Mass., didn’t know anyone who had voted for Donald Trump. West Virginians couldn’t have imagined someone casting a ballot for Hillary Clinton.
I’ve been interrogated by a loud neighbor who wanted to know if it was true that I voted for Trump. Before I had a chance to respond, those standing around started to distance themselves from me, and one young woman gave me a stare that seemed to say, “Even if you were the last male remaining alive on earth, I wouldn’t have dinner with you.” Now, I’ve been told that Im a great dinner companion, but it didn’t matter. They all wanted to unsee me.
There is a sense, today that partisan affiliation reflects more than just a voting preference. Rather, it says something about your character. And where you come down on Trump is increasingly a decisive factor in whether or not someone wants to associate with you.
The acrimony in politics has become so pervasive that 91 percent of voters said it was a serious problem in a Quinnipiac University poll released last month. There was strong consensus about who was at fault: 47 percent said they blame Trump more; 37 percent said Democrats.
I don’t know where we’ll go with this. I sometimes find myself re-reading the words of Abraham Lincoln who said, at the close of his First Inaugural Address:
We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
The Valley Viewpoint 