I made multiple treks from the van to the rental house, unloading a week’s worth of supplies for our family vacation. As I precariously balanced a load of lawn games on a cooler, the next-door neighbor rushed from his porch. Catching the falling boxes, he introduced himself and wished me a good week. I was immediately drawn to his friendly smile and welcoming demeanor.
Early the next morning, Bob and I greeted each other from our respective porches before the sun came up. He offered me a homemade muffin and pointed out the most convenient path to the beach. He described the can’t-miss highlights of his beloved home-town, inserting stories from his own childhood and sharing memories of the years when his sons were young. “Don’t let your kids go barefoot on the big rocks to the left of the stairs,” he warned, “both of mine have scars to prove how dangerous they are.”
Over the next several mornings, Bob and I continued our pre-dawn chats. We left the seclusion of our own porches and transitioned to the chairs around his fire pit. We talked about our pets, the joys and struggles of family vacations, our shared affinity for blueberry pancakes, and the stories of how we each lost our best friend to brain cancer. He told me he planned to surprise his wife with a trip to the Grand Canyon for their 55th anniversary, and I assured him she was a very lucky lady.
On the sixth morning, I dressed quickly, eager to hear Bob’s stories. As predicted, he was already outside. However, instead of sitting on his porch swing, he was pushing the stakes of a sign into his grass. I recognized it immediately, even in the dim light. Displayed on most lawns in this small Michigan town, it proclaimed support for a political candidate whom I oppose.
Bob beamed when he saw me as if nothing was amiss. “Morning neighbor,” he called cheerily.
I waved, unsure how to respond in the wake of this new information. “Hi there - I have to get back inside and make breakfast for everyone,” I lied.
For the rest of the day, I peeked through my window before going in the front yard. I felt betrayed, tricked in a bait and switch scam. I was baffled. How could he be one of them?
That evening, we packed the van for an early morning departure. I was arranging suitcases when Bob arrived with homemade cookies.
“For the road.” He held out the bag. “I’ve loved our conversations this week. I’ll miss you.”
I couldn’t make sense of it. There he was – smiling and saying sweet words next to a sign that dismissed everything I believe in. I wanted to ask if he knew what that sign represented, if he understood the implications of a reign under this candidate. I said only, “These look great. I’ve loved talking to you, too.”
I’ve been home now for a couple weeks, and I’m still thinking about Bob. Had the sign been displayed when we arrived, I would not have bothered to know him. His political stance would have told me we had no common ground. However, that isn’t true. He is a warm, thoughtful man with whom I share many points of connection.
I am guilty, I must admit, of unfairly judging the other side, of convincing myself that we don’t have similar experiences and feelings. I’m curious what would happen if I shared more spaces with people who see the world differently. Perhaps we would make spontaneous discoveries about each other, finding we are more than our party alliances.
I haven’t changed my mind politically. However, I’m starting to wonder if I can oppose the ideology without opposing Bob. And – maybe wondering is how we move toward peace.
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