I expected to feel self-righteous, maybe even a little snide.  Instead I’m exhausted, drained, edgy and slightly nauseated.

Shortly before the 2004 election, I got into a huge fight with a friend of mine.  We’d been drinking and started talking politics. It got ugly fast. I assumed that as a college-educated, well-traveled, art-loving, fun-loving individual, she would be fairly liberal. I found that she was not liberal at all.  She was ultra-conservative. Ultra.  She told me I had no right to live in America since I hated it so much.  She admitted that she could not believe certain facts (yes, facts) because she would it would be too devastating to her sense of what the United States is if she did.
Needless to say our relationship suffered. I was sad and angry and confused.  This past summer I reached out to her. I felt I had to learn how to hear what she said.  I had to reconnect with the goodness that I knew she possessed. (In many ways she is the most selfless person I know.  Caring for her mother-in-law who had Alzheimers disease in her home. Making lunch on a daily basis for a handicapped woman who lives down the street, etc.) She did not fit the stereotype of the redneck, uneducated, wingnut, nor of the fat cat corporatist who expected the government to provide her wealth while exploiting the poor. We had dinner together.  We both behaved well.  We took a baby step toward healing the rift between us.

Knowing that she and her husband loved the Southwest, I invited them to visit us if they ever were in Santa Fe.  To my surprise, she took me up on the offer and she and her husband spent the last 48 hours in my home. I swore to myself that I would be on my best behavior; that I would try to listen to her; that I would be respectful; that I would try not to be defensive.  She was a guest in my home.  Moreover, her own mother had died about ten days ago, and I knew she was in a fragile state.

The past two days were instructive, humbling and exhausting.  We did our best to tiptoe around the landmines, but politics came up despite our best efforts.  During dinner she commented that although she and her husband scarcely watch TV anymore, they had seen a great program on ABC about 9/11.  I choked down my mouthful of food and my horrified retort, and asked as neutrally as I could if she knew that there were some factual problems with the program.  She said she knew it was a drama but that it was based on “The /11 Report.” I gently asked if she knew that some members of the 9/11 committee had objected to its contents and that and FBI script consultant had quit because of his concerns about its veracity.  “No, she replied, I wasn’t aware of that.”  My husband changed the subject and that was that.

My friend and her husband brought up a few political races in my previous home state of Illinois.  I was quiet to hear what they would say. Rob said he couldn’t stand either candidate for governor so he was going to vote Green as a protest.  Maria replied that for the first time in her life she wouldn’t vote at all.  We agreed that there were very few politicians we could admire.  I let them take a few swipes at Duckworth and Durbin and remained quiet.  I learned that neither supports Duckworth’s competitor in IL-06, Peter Roskam (R).  By remaining quiet I also learned that both of them spend 20 minutes a day praying for peace.

Over the course of the past two days we had a number of close calls, but when they left this morning we had avoided out and out confrontation.

I’m very confused by the encounter. These people who pray for peace, who actually exert themselves to help people, will probably never vote for Democrats.  They are disillusioned with the Republicans, but for reasons I failed to discern they consider Democratic politicians beyond the pale. I didn’t trust my self-control, so I didn’t probe. They are extremely devout Catholics, but still love and have contact with their daughter who is “shacked up” with her boyfriend.  They were distraught when their only son joined an ultra-orthodox Catholic religious order.

I don’t understand them.  They don’t understand me.  Our universes do not seem to be the same.  I suspect we have more in common than either of us realize.  I don’t know how we personally are going to bridge the gaps that separate us. I don’t know how we progressives are going to bridge the gaps with people like these.  Although many of our values are the same, our message is not resonating.  We are not trusted.  We have a lot of work to do.

We need to work together if we are going to save this country.  We need to listen.  We need to respect.  We need to articulate our views in a way that will not cause people to shut down.  It won’t be easy.  It is exhausting.