Del Taco and Starbucks, Jack in the Box and Popeyes, Sonic, Sonic, Sonic.
America is weird. Not the judgy, “that ain’t right” weird. The weirdness comes from the vastness, the difference that we all share. It’s a slideshow of fenced acreage and animals, stripped land and drive-thrus.
Sitting in the passenger seat (Becka drives, which is fine by me. I like the view without the concentration.) for more than 10,000 miles so far, I’ve seen a lot of this wackadoo country. Looking out the window as the green-brown-red-blond of the country goes by, I think about a rancher in Southwestern Colorado and an environmental activist in Portland sharing the same country, a worker in the oil fields of West Texas and a Park Ranger in Bryce Canyon finding common ground. I think they should. I think they can.
There’s a lot of darkness in the rhetoric these days that fails to acknowledge the weirdness that I’ve watched fly by. I’ve seen that weirdness in a little honky tonk in Marfa, Texas, and a quirky general store outside Canyonlands. This country is more than a place where we keep pitting ourselves against each other, we’re more nuanced than a hashtag. I’m hopeful that we can work it out and actually hear each other through the noise.
Meanwhile, I’ll stare out the window at the weirdness.