Pulling on Trouble’s Braids: Thoughts in Texas Part II

This is a continuation of Robin Berger’s reflection on the voices she’s listening and responding to in Texas.

In the last post where I lost my head and showed my ass I mentioned a fourth person present … Mike, I said, and I mentioned I’d met him two years ago.

Just for the record, Mike was the most level-headed of the four of us adults gathered around the picnic table. He calmly and quietly reminded us he thought he “had the floor,” and but then had the grace to stop talking when it was clear the rest of us were only choosing up sides and firing off shots.

Mike’s hovers somewhere in his late 60s/early 70s. He’s a white guy; he was a corpsman for the Marines in Vietnam.

And Mike and I have a history starting two years ago and continuting to today as we meet and egg each other on.

Mike believes Trump is going to fix the VA … Mike is very familiar with the VA, given he was wounded in Vietnam and woke up in a body bag. He and the VA have danced almost continuously together since he was medivaced out.

He has credentials.

We’ve argued, laughed, avoided each other and then argued some more these last couple of months.

He calls me “babydoll,” and “darlin,”and shares homemade jerky and Stripes Gas Station french fries when we meet.

He’s full-on Trump, so when he came over last week, after the school shooting in Florida, I thought, ho-boy. Here we go.

I’m braced and ready … locked and loaded. I have arguments and counter-arguments lined up.

And Mike said …

… “If they want to stop the use of them guns, why don’t they just stop making the ammunition? If they couldn’t get ammunition, they couldn’t shoot the guns … right?”

I’m still waiting for the punch-line … the part where he reverts to type, so I agrue from where I think he’s standing; that fully conservative, you-can-have-my-gun-when-you-pry-it-from-my-cold-dead-hand place.

“Are you saying,” (except it’s more like ARE YOU SAYING!!!), “we need to change our gun laws?” I reply.

He says it again … softly.

“Yeah, but if they just stop making the ammo … right?”

And there we have it … The Moment.

The moment where I wake up and stop having a conversation that hasn’t happened yet.

The moment where I realize someone on “the other side,” has more than one dimension (just like me).

And the moment where someone who is a 100% Trump supporter and I agree.

There needs to be a limit on guns.

He and I … we agree.

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