Dear Friends,
The day starts with eight Creston residents, all active with the Democratic Party, joining me for “coffee” (read “tea,” for me) at a downtown cafe. We discuss many of the same issues on rural residents’ minds everywhere I go, regardless of party affiliation.
Imposing tariffs and President Trump’s Argentina bailout, and how that’s worsening the stagnant US soybean market.
Sending the National Guard to US cities.
Deporting immigrants, most with no criminal record, and how that’s affecting families and communities.
High on the list of concerns this morning is the growing divide between Republican and Democratic voters. I remind our coffee clutch that, thirty year ago, I spent a couple days door-knocking in Creston for my friend, Don Ray.
Don, a Democrat, challenged long-time House Republican Horace Daggett. Heads nodded as I nostalgically recalled the level of civility in that campaign (which Daggett won).
After a light rain shower, the day is ideal for the 13-mile hike to Afton. I strike up a few conversations along the way, including a chat with a utility worker. I never ask anyone their party affiliation or who they vote for, but judging by the guy’s’ reservations about transgender youth, I assume he leans right.
“It’s important to let people live their lives,” he says. “But if you wanna change your gender, maybe you should wait till you’re old enough to make a responsible decision. After all, we don’t let 14-year-olds drive, and we don’t let 18-year-olds drink.”
We move on to other topics. Like the Democrats I met this morning, he’s very upset about how polarized our country has become.
“We need to come together,” he stated, with great emphasis. “You should be able to invite a neighbor you disagree with politically over for dinner, a barbecue, a beer.”
“The problem of polarization is bipartisan,” I suggest. “The way I see it, the polarizer in chief in the White House has made it so much worse. He’s taking it to a new and dangerous level.”
The guy agrees with my assessment. I thank him for his time and insights, and wish him well in his work.
Fifty yards down the road, my next encounter isn’t quite so cordial. A pair of dogs run out to “greet” me. Their yapping attracts two more dogs. Now I have four canines furiously barking to defend their master’s castle.
One of them makes a play for me. I shift my walking stick into my right hand so it’s between me and the advancing dog, a motion that appears to strike fear into the beast’s heart.
Ah, my walking stick. It’s seen about 10,000 miles of action and serves so many purposes. It propels me up hills. It eases the impact on my legs when going down hills. It gives me balance on rough terrain. It flings dead animals off the roadway.
Today, as it has many times before, my walking stick serves as a doggie deterrent.
— Ed Fallon