To my American family

Dear America,

You’re angry. 

I know it. I see it. I feel it. 

You’re angry at everything and everyone. 

You’re angry at having to live through a pandemic, and angry at the responses to it.

You’re angry at the Federal Government for not doing enough. And angry at your Governors for doing too much.

You’re angry at your neighbors for not wearing masks. And angry at the people who accost you for not wearing yours. 

You’re angry at the state of our political discourse.

Angry at your uncle who loves wearing his MAGA hat, so you cut him out of your life for good.

Angry at your niece who wears a Black Lives Matter mask, so you cut her out of yours as well.

You’re angry at corporations who don’t do anything to address social issues.

And angry at corporations who make social activism central to their brand. 

You’re angry at Trump. And angry at Biden. 

Angry at Pelosi. And angry at McConnell. 

Angry at the right. And angry at the left.

I get it.

The heat has been on high for a long time. 

So we’re all angry. And we’re also exhausted. 

Because on some level, we’re all tired of this, aren’t we?

Our surge capacity is depleted. We gave at the office. We’re been running on empty for too damn long. 

We want a breather. A break. A period of decompression. 

A national spa day, if you will. 

Where we can simply exhale, and not hate each other for a few minutes.

Doesn’t that sound grand? 

Well, let me tell you, my friends - it’s possible. 

Because conflicts don’t last forever.

Northerners and Southerners fought a vicious, bloody civil war against one another. Then, one generation later, their children fought side by side against the Spanish Empire.

And their children fought together in the trenches of France.

And their children fought together on the beaches of Normandy. 

They fought to ensure the shipping freedom of vessels from New York and Charleston alike.

They fought to ensure that fascism would never conquer the shores of Maine, nor Florida, nor Texas, nor Oregon. 

Now, if you catch yourself thinking, “Well, Trump and his supporters are bringing back fascism / The Democrats want to have a fascist cancel culture”...

...this is exactly what we’re talking about. 

The knee-jerk reflex to get angry. To hate half the country. To turn up the temperature. To feel your heart start racing and your blood pressure rising. To activate the fearful, primal, fight-or-flight reptilian brain that’s in battle mode.

To frame everything in terms of us vs. them. 

But...imagine a circuit-break. When the minute you start thinking in those terms, you remember, at the end of the day, we’re all one big family.

A big, crazy, loud family to be sure. 

An opinionated, obnoxious family at times.

A boisterous family that eats brisket and enchiladas and mostiacolli and jambalaya and collared greens and clam chowder and hot dish. 

But we’re still family. Always. We’re not each other’s enemies.

We make each other stronger. And make each other better. 

The farmer in Kansas feeds the virologist in Boston who develops the therapeutics to treat the farmer in Kansas. 

The big rig driver in Tennessee transports the raw materials to the Hollywood studio that creates the movie characters that become the favorite thing in the world to the child of the big rig driver in Tennessee who has special needs. 

On 9/11, New Yorkers who were otherwise reviled by those in the heartland received volunteers and care packages from Wisconsin and Missouri and Wyoming and Kentucky and everywhere in between.

• Because while the Upper West Side journalist and Oklahoma oil field worker may not agree on much, they’re family. 
• The West Virginia coal miner and Broadway producer don’t share the same hobbies, but they’re family. 
• The South Dakota rancher and progressive D.C. think-tank executive will never cross paths, but they’re family. 

And regardless of who wins this election, and what fears you have about its ramifications, we’ll still be family. 

A big, crazy family. 

A family that loves the NCAA tournament. And fantasy football. And laughing at the misfortunes of the Patriots and Cowboys. 

A family that was big and talented enough to give us motown and bluegrass and rock n’ roll and country and jazz and hip-hop alike. 

A family that produced Michael Jordan and Cheryl Miller and Tiger Woods and Joe Montana and Kristi Yamaguchi. 

A family that went to the moon and discovered antibiotics.

A family that loves long road trips and cookouts with friends. 

A family that loves its freedom to roam and explore and meet its extended family members from sea to shining sea in the process. 

Some think our family is too far gone. 

That the wounds run too deep, and the differences too irreconcilable.

You may think that as well. 

Your anger may be past the point of no return. 

And you may think this whole letter is a big waste of time from a naive idiot who clearly doesn’t see that half the country is an existential threat.

And if you’re there, I certainly won’t change your mind here. I can’t. 

I still wish you well, even if you wish to disown me. Because I don’t wish to disown you. 

You’re still my family. Today, tomorrow and always. 

And if there’s any room left in your heart for forgiveness, for grace, for reconciliation, for unity, for healing...now’s the time. 

We need you.

Yes, you. 

Not our politicians. 

You. 

We need you to re-engage with friends and neighbors and family members you’ve severed ties with over politics.

No matter how hard it is. No matter how much your ego won’t let you. No matter how much you hate them for something they said or someone they voted for. 

The first step is always the hardest. 

Pride is a real bitch. 

But it’s worth it. 

You’re worth it. 

Believe it or not, they’re worth it.

Our family is worth it. 

America is worth it.