It's hard for a semi-prosperous white guy to feel in the minority, but it can be done through travel. I've accomplished it in China and here in Mesa County, where being a Democrat is akin to being a Hmong gang member at Keegan's Pub on Thursday night.
Because I've been away for so long before getting re-established, I'm still getting to know people. At least once a day, I make the mistake of thinking I see eye-to-eye with someone, only to see a look of good-natured revulsion when I wander into one of the opinions I periodically express here.
No, not just a look of revulsion — words, too. Keeps me on my toes.
Last night was one of those days. I was attending a fund raising dinner for Kids Voting. Years ago, my mother initiated the local chapter, and it turns out my sister was being honored for her volunteer work on its behalf. It was supposed to be a surprise. All her friends knew and labored mightily to keep it a secret, even to the extent of having a typed script so everyone would have the same story about why they were going.
Of course she found out. At least, I think so, but she's an FBI agent and never lets on unless she wants to.
The dinner was fairly typical of these things, with tables purchased by locals banks and other businesses. The Democratic Party sponsored a table, but not the GOP. That could be because it is the party of voter suppression, and it's hard to give that up, even though Kids Voting has a generous overlay of patriotism. On the other hand, it may have been redundant, since the newspaper, businesses and local officials in attendance could all be said to lean Republican, if they weren't already lying down flat on their right side.
Being an intuitive sort, I had put together the day before that it would also be atypical in one important way: No cash bar. This apparently caught many of legal drinking age by surprise, and the early 6 pm start left them unprepared.
The evening included a jazz choir, a Boy Scout color guard, two school kids impersonating historical personalities and a local historian giving a stemwinder about an innovative businessman, philanthropist and progressive town booster who died broke and alone. William J. Moyer's story was fictionally retold in Dalton Trumbo's Eclipse.
There were no flinty hearted folks in the room last night and many generous and public-spirited ones. Yet they could pool their good works and still fall short of the forgotten man's impact.
