There’s a lot of talk these days about whether America can ever bridge the great political and cultural divide we’re seeing today. But one man thinks it’s possible, and he set out with an unusual travel companion to confirm that belief.
Bryan Mealer is a 43-year-old author and reporter for the Guardian. He lives in Austin, Texas and has no love for Donald Trump. His 93-year-old cousin Frances Varner lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, and she adores the president.
“She would talk about Trump throughout the year, and I just couldn’t believe that even a year into his presidency she was still supporting him,” Mealer recalls.
“I still do!” says Varner. “I just think he’s a person that can save the country. You see it in him. He loves the people or they wouldn’t love him back so much.”
She doesn’t care about Stormy Daniels:
“Well that’s none of my business,” Varner explains.
“One day she said, ‘You know, I’d drive to Washington to shake Donald Trump’s hand,’ says Mealer. “I recognized an opportunity here to address this division but have some fun. I said, ‘You know what would be cool? If I just drove you to Washington myself. We’ll go shake Trump’s hand.’"
So he rented a Ford Explorer and scrawled messages in shoe polish across the rear and side panels: White House or Bust, Can’t We All Get Along?, Can We Talk? And #Across the Great Divide Tour.
He Tweeted and posted on Facebook, stopping to talk with people along the way. They met with an evangelical pastor in Oklahoma.
“He said these remarks about gays and lesbians, and it was just this kind of standard Biblical condemnation. As a Christian I take issue with that,” Mealer says.
But he held his tongue until he and Varner had time to talk.
“He was so sweet until he got in the car going 90 miles an hour, and then he let go,” Varner remembers.
“I was so agitated. I didn’t stand up for my beliefs. I let him get away with that,” Mealer explains.
Then he realized getting angry would not have changed the pastor’s mind. They had agreed to disagree and prayed together for a safe trip. That, Mealer reasoned, was enough.
In Columbus, Ohio they visited one of the largest mosques in the Midwest, and Varner found common ground with women who wanted their kids to have a good education – to do better than their parents.
At a gas station in West Virginia they chatted with a man who carried a weapon on his hip. Again, Mealer was surprised to find points of agreement. The man said he didn’t object to many gun control measures.
“'I don’t think it’s a big deal that you have to be 21 to buy a gun,' the gun man said. 'That doesn’t do anything to the Second Amendment. I don’t have any problem with having to wait a few days to buy a gun if that’s going to make people safer,' and he said, ‘I think the NRA is too extreme for me.’”
And whether they loved or hated Donald Trump, many people agreed it was time to stop tweeting divisive messages.
“They would like to see Donald Trump get off his Twitter account, and that’s both sides – except Frances. She kind of likes it,” Mealer says.
“I love it, because I look forward to, ‘What’s he saying today?’ And he gets his message out. Really, I think it would be good for all presidents to do that,” Varner argues.
Mealer says future presidents probably will, and there are other views that he and Frances Varner share – like what might happen if Donald Trump were impeached.
“I hate to say this, but there’d be hell to pay. Excuse my language. Heck to pay,” says Varner.
“I agree with her if that happens,” Mealer adds.
When they arrived in Charlottesville, Mealer said he felt less angry and more hopeful about the future.
“I think we’ll be okay in the end,” he says. “I want our country to succeed, and for it to succeed I think the President has to lead, and in four years we’ll vote, and we’ll vote him out.”
Varner, of course, disagrees. Both were disappointed when they were unable to arrange a meeting with the President, but they agree that family is important, and they plan to remain friends.
