A few days ago I bought a raccoon trap at a farm-supply store in rural Ontario County, where I stood in the line for the cashier behind a man wearing a bright red Make America Great Again hat.
I was a little surprised as I stepped into the line to suddenly and reflexively feel revulsion toward this otherwise anonymous man.
It reminded me of the time I was at a Woman’s World Cup soccer game between Germany and Norway in Ottawa, Canada, and I felt a sudden chill when a group of Germans sitting near us sang in out unison about Deutschland. No doubt I was flashing back to World War II films about Hitler, but my involuntary response made me feel a little sheepish. German fans were simply chanting the name of their team, as every national did at the World Cup. I knew that, but my subconscious mind evidently didn’t. Hmm.
The involuntary MAGA hat response, on the other hand, was to something that’s current, a sign that my Trump revulsion is now hard wired. And I suppose it is. I find nothing persuasive in the “don’t impeach” arguments, no sympathy for supporting a president who digs in his heels while openly flaunting his corruption.
I want to believe he’s digging his heels into sand. But he’s not. The people wearing the MAGA hats are his bedrock, the foundation upon which he stands and from which he pushes back against perceived threats, which often are simply facts and truth.
Still my revulsion to the man in the MAGA hat is a projection. Maybe he was wearing this hat because his usual John Deere cap got ripped in the shredder. Maybe he’s just a guy who’s tired of our stiff and bureaucratic government and gets a kick out of seeing someone make them uncomfortable. Maybe he’s not really paying attention to the news at all.
I can relate to that. But whatever his reason for wearing the hat, I hope he awakens to our circumstances soon, because something is shifting beneath our feet. We just don’t know yet whether it’s sand or bedrock.
In any event, I’ve got a trap now, and I’m determined to catch that varmint.