Here we are in Casper, Wyoming, the state most supportive of Trump. Sipping on a glass of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, eating dill salmon salad sitting in a half avocado, I survey the scene at J’s Pub and Grille.

Nice people all. “I was in the church near Glasgow this week [in eastern Montana],” one man says. I’ve been there — not the church — but campaigning for my favorite presidential candidate, George McGovern in 1972. Perhaps the young men at his table were theology students, hoping to do good in the world.

How could they be, I wonder, if they support current Republican extremism, its faith in liberty above all else? That is, liberty only for themselves to make as much money as possible. Empathy for others? Nah.

Republicans, Don’t Just Tweet About It. Do Something, by Charles J. Sykes, author of “How the Right Lost Its Mind.”

Here’s a link to the piece in the NYTimes, July 22, 2018:

“Republicans in Congress need to realize that they’re not merely constitutional potted plants.”

Ordinary people are most often sunflowers, smiling and sturdy.

How I would love to play journalist in these tiny Great Plains/Mountain towns we’ve been driving through!

“Why, please tell me why, you’re a Republican?” I’d ask. “You’re polite. You smile at me with my weird purple hair.”

Casper citizens have a sense of humor. They love their dogs and their kids.

Casper’s seven strange “wonders of  the world” :

What was this tall white tower? If you stand underneath it and look up and spin around, you supposedly feel like you’re in an egg beater, which wasn’t to our liking (that’s Dan walking away).

I look forward to reading Our Towns by Jim and Deborah Fallows. 

Their experiences, and mine on this July’s road trip is that friendliness and decency prevail if you don’t discuss politics.

I’m itching to do so. But I remain quiet (who me?).

This morning we ate breakfast at Patty’s Place in Belle Fourche, South Dakota. The owner wore a tie dye t-shirt, played Sixties rock ‘n’ roll. He collected bottles of hot sauce, with labels from Jamaica to California. He also made his own. Perhaps it was like growing his own weed.

An old hippie, I thought. I didn’t ask.

I believe there is good in the world. But why are there Republicans?