Day 3 – We Called The Road Our Home

We began the day with breakfast at Rosco’s Restaurant in Roscommon, Michigan. We liked that the place had copies of the US Constitution and the Declaration of Independence on the wall. Roscommon looked as if it had seen better days. Interstate 75 used to pass through the town, Business 75 went through town, but the interstate now is a few miles away. There were some of the typical conversations about immigrants taking jobs, but nothing spectacular said, just the usual morning grumpiness. We were entertained by our waitress, who dealt with my inability to distinguish between the numbers 2 and 4, and Ed’s desire to hear of any local specialties on the menu.

We then drove through Gladwin Michigan, another town off the interstate – though the interstate had never passed through. We drove on to West Branch in Ogemaw county. Both of these cities looked in better shape than Roscommon. Keep in mind, we are often just driving into town and looking to see if the place looks prosperous or not. One of our goals on this trip was to get an impression be of how “obvious” it might be that economic hardships drove the 20% changes in voting from the Democratic candidate in 2012 to the Republican in 2016. We really didn’t see much evidence of that in our first three days. Mostly, we heard anti-Hillary sentiments. Our speculation is that Trump was not so wonderful, as Hillary was dreadful. The most common sentiment we heard was that she was not a desirable choice as Commander-In-Chief. Clearly, President Trump has his avid supporters – but I do not think his support is a long-term affiliation change like President Reagan’s victory was for turning some Democratic voters into Republican voters.

After driving through Roscommon, we speculated on the effects of an interstate route moving away from a town. The towns we visited in Wisconsin that were never on major highways, Crandon comes most to mind, seemed to be doing well. Granted, the towns that were doing well in Wisconsin were also in the middle of productive agricultural areas. That must provide a solid base for employment and income and taxes.  Towns that appeared to rely more upon seasonal recreation for people from the bigger cities did not look as prosperous. And the one town that had experienced the move of an interstate had the greatest number of closed businesses we saw in the counties we visited.

We then hit the road, with the goal to get to DuBois, Pennsylvania. We drove over 700 miles today. I wish all states had 75 mph speed limits. We did notice that even with that higher speed limit, a lot of traffic passed us traveling 5-10 miles an hour faster. In a Camaro convertible with California license plates, we decided we were too much of a target for speeding citations to go much over the speed limit.

One of us has spent a lot of time in Pennsylvania, and DuBois was geographically a common central Pennsylvania town: settled in a valley. The town is off I-80, and the interstate never went through it. The town looked vital: the steakhouse we visited for dinner (the Fort Worth Restaurant and Saloon) was filled with patrons on a Friday night. As simple economic indicators go, that pointed to a town where business was pretty good. We did not see new construction to the extent that we did in Gaylord, so I do not think the town is growing.

After our dinner, we drove to Hazleton to get lodging. With the Little League World Series going on in nearby Williamsport (77 miles away) a lot of the hotel rooms in the area were already taken. We then found a bar to watch the Seahawks play the Vikings. There were no funny looks or comments when we ordered our drinks.

Day 2 – Higher Up and Further In

 

We began the day with breakfast in Adams, Wisconsin at The Country Skillet (which has 5 stars from 5 reviews on Yelp). Breakfast was good, and we overheard several interesting conversations at adjacent tables. Apparently, the home construction industry in the area is doing well. Transgendered folks have more rights than traditional genders. People spend a foolish amount of money to have cell phones and other computers. And people are trying to cash in on the eclipse in absurd ways. After our meal, we spoke to a couple of the gentlemen whose conversations we overheard. We described our road trip to them and then asked the question, “What comes after Trump?” One guy replied that it was too far into the future to even think about, at least for him. He said he did not have the energy for that. The other gentlemen said he thought there was nothing in the future after Trump, and then added that he hoped Hillary wasn’t in the future. Neither elaborated on his thoughts, I think we genuinely surprised them with the question.

Before we left Adams county, we passed through the town of Friendship. We came upon my favorite juxtaposition of business signs: the Who Cares Bar next to the Friendship Café. With that Readers Digest moment behind us, we drove on.

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We briefly stopped for fudge in Wautoma, in Waushara County. We asked the proprietress when the building had been built: 1888. She told us the history of the businesses in that spot, almost continuously in use for 129 years. There were always interested merchants to take over the space, in contrast to towns we visited later where old boarded up businesses seemed to be the norm. I think it would be apt to describe Adams, Friendship, and Wautoma as thriving small towns, in productive agricultural areas.

We then went to Waupaca, in Waupaca County. This was a shorter visit, with just a drive through downtown. This was another prosperous small community. The farms in the area were well-maintained and looked busy. We drove through Merrill in Merrill County, making similar observations. We then drove to Crandon for lunch, at Tricia’s Treasures (6 reviews, 5 stars on Yelp). Getting to Crandon from Merrill required a lot of driving on county roads. The area was a little more forested and a little less agricultural than the counties we visited earlier, but the town was pleasant with plenty of foot traffic at lunch time.

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As a reminder, we chose these counties because they had voted for Obama/Democrat in 2012 and swung by at least 20% points for Trump/Republican in 2016. There was no indication those counties had especially suffered economic hardships. Economic hardship was one of the explanations for Trump’s success, but it was not evident in the ones we visited in the morning. We also noted that we saw only one Trump sign on the trip (so far). It is hard to make meaningful comparisons, but we both noted that after Obama’s wins in 2008 and 2012, there were plenty of his signs and bumper stickers displayed – at least in the Pacific Northwest. Now, Wisconsin might not do that sort of thing no matter who wins or loses. Or it may be that Mr. Trump’s support was not especially deep, or not a choice that inspired a lot of “hey, I’m on that team” sentiment.
We then drive for several hours north and east into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, crossing the Mackinac Bridge into the southern peninsula of Michigan. The counties we drove through (but didn’t stop in) looked far less agricultural, with areas devoted to seasonal recreation. The small towns here had more closed businesses, more homes that were shuttered or abandoned, more rusting equipment in untended fields. These counties did not meet the criteria we used for stopping to visit, but they did also vote for President Trump in the 2016 election.

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We stopped for the night in Gaylord Michigan. Commercial construction was going on all over town. When we spoke to the person at our hotel counter, she told us that several new restaurants had opened down town. The town was larger than the ones we visited in Wisconsin – and not on our list of counties to visit. We needed to visit a Hertz office, and this one had one that was on our route.

The downtown has an alpine theme, with storefronts painted in that manner. We visited The Iron Pig Smokehouse (excellent ribs and wings with a very smoky flavor). Our server told us that the town had an alpine theme because of a sister city. After our meal, I found that the sister city is Pointresina in Switzerland. The server and bartender confirmed what our hotel clerk had said: the town was growing and things were going well. Our server was not from Gaylord, she had moved away from Cheboygan – a town she said was not growing or thriving. I will note that Gaylord was right on interstate 75, an observation that will be used in tomorrow’s note.

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First Day’s Take-Aways

We grabbed that cash with both hands and made a dash. Not quite Pink Floyd’s line. But we took the Camaro convertible and hit I-90 from O’Hare. No ether or other intoxicants were involved, only the automobile and the general middle-finger-to-the-world of Metallica’s Enter Sandman at a conversation-quelling volume. When leaving the rental garage we asked the young lady checking us out into the Great Wide Open the question that motivates our quest: “What do you think comes after Trump?” She gave us a laugh and then gave the question some thoughtful consideration. She wanted Hillary to run in 2020. She said Hillary was Bill’s rock, and that she deserved another chance. We teased her and asked if she thought Bill was Hillary’s rock. She didn’t think that was the case, but affirmed that she wanted Hillary to run again.

Later, after rain and lightning and large trucks closer than Louis Chevrolet was to his wife, we arrived in Mauston, Wisconsin. We drove around a while and found the Juneau County War Memorial. Mauston is the seat of Juneau County, named for Solomon Juneau. Solomon founded the city of Milwaukee, which is not in Juneau County. Solomon, a fur trader, is the uncle of Joseph Juneau, who founded the city of Juneau, Alaska. Both Juneaux were Canadians, but they left their names on the United States.

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After that bit of local history, we stopped in at Carl’s Bright Spot. Carl’s doesn’t have a rating on Yelp. When we walked in and asked the bartender what bourbons they had, she didn’t know. She was friendly and starting rummaging around behind the bar to find the bottles and gave us our choices. A pair of guys at the bar laughed and commented that we must not be from around there because the locals drank beer. Or Sambuca. The place was friendly and folks asked us about our trip. We learned that professional rodeo is the only professional sport where you do not get paid just for showing up. That was an interesting perspective on the other major professional sports. That meant we had run into some cowboys, and not some Packer fans.  We were only talking to a small group, so that does not mean the attitude was representative of the town. There were Packers and Brewers signs and schedules all over the bar.

We asked a woman who had grown up in the town if it had changed. She said it really hadn’t, except there were more druggies now. She liked her town. The older of the cowboys, who had lived all through the Midwest, told us that 2016 was the first time he had voted. He was so upset at the notion of Hillary Clinton being commander-in-chief that he voted against her. We didn’t ask who he had voted for, but he didn’t seem like a third party guy. “You guys aren’t Democrats, are you?” he asked us. We were told that ranch where the cowboys worked got a lot of business from people coming up from Chicagoland, for fishing (norther pike, bass, and bluegill) and for horseback riding. We also learned that the Harley Davidson Museum in Milwaukee is an excellent place to visit, even for non-fans of Harleys. That was our time in Mauston.

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The Ties That Bind

I love football and the Seattle Seahawks.

I love the game of football even though I am not very good at it.  My brief high school career was spent mostly as a bench-warming tackling dummy. In college I was able to take the field as a receiver for a lousy team where my position coach nicknamed me Roberto Duran (Hands of Stone.)  These personal failings did not diminish my love for the sport because of its physicality and strategy.  You must both physically dominate and out-think the other team.

I have loved the Seahawks since their inception when I was a teenager in Alaska.  Every Sunday for 40 years found me glued to the TV to follow their history of long-term futility and more recent glory.  Since moving to Seattle 25 years ago, home Sundays brought me to a stadium with 65,000 other passionate, rabid Seahawks fans.  The “12’s”, as they are known, extend beyond the tens of thousands in the stadium to hundreds of thousands that religiously don blue, grey, white or putrid green jerseys each Sunday to support their team.  As I watch the games, I am often struck by the irony that my BFFs around the city of Seattle during a few hours on a Sunday afternoon have very little to do with me politically.  Seattle is a very blue city in a mostly blue state.  I am neither Republican nor Democrat but I personally find most of the politics in Washington a bit on the loony side.

And yet, it doesn’t matter during those Sunday afternoons. The ties that bind us during those games are the shared suffering of 40 years of mediocrity rewarded by recent success, the shared respect for a team with tenacity, grit, and brotherhood, and by the shared passion for a glorious game with the orgasmic highs and soul-crushing lows that come with it.  So how do these ties differ from our national entanglements?

You might argue that NFL teams don’t tax their fan base as governments do but remind me of that argument when I pay for season tickets. You might tell me that NFL teams don’t enforce mind-numbing, bureaucratic regulations and I will tell you about how much fun it is to go through screening to get into the stadium. I take pride in being a 12 just as I take pride in being an American.  The denigration by Seahawks fans of mouth-breathing 49er fans or room-temperature IQ Cardinal fans is just as xenophobic as the argument for American exceptionalism.   There are, of course, limits to this metaphor since the Seahawks will not draft me to invade Los Angeles, but then I might volunteer if the uniforms were cool.

But why are we able to overlook our cultural, political, and economic differences for the sake of NFL fandom, and yet we as a nation are failing to overlook those same differences for the sake of the far deeper American ties that bind?  Our creeds, our system, and our shared history link us together far more meaningfully than shared laundry.  Debates over those creeds, this system, and that history offer myriad opportunities to disagree, but we cannot lose sight of the unifying power of our shared experience.  If I am willing to share a drink with my seat neighbor in Century Link Field, I should be willing to share a drink with any fellow American despite our social and political differences.  If I can constructively debate with a fellow 12 on the matter of Richard Sherman and his inability to keep his trap shut, I can also constructively confer with an advocate of higher minimum wages on the best way to address income inequality.

Admittedly, a sports metaphor weakens when you think about the broader set of divisive social, economic, and political issues that dominate American conversation and the vitriol, fear, and frustration that too often boil to the surface.  When the final whistle blows, the game is over and fans go back their real lives, as fortune may favor them or not.  Fandom is over for a time while the real world and this society never ends.  The friction of the real world is proving it difficult for Americans to maintain a civil, respectful dialog.  Rather than admit that as a given, I choose to at least attempt civil, respectful dialog until someone proves themselves unworthy.

I am fortunate that I can walk into most any establishment along this road trip and engage in a conversation without having to worry.  Unfortunately I am very capable of putting my foot in my mouth, saying something stupid, and then indeed having something to worry about.  I imagine most people we encounter will treat us with respect until or unless I prove myself a jerk.

There are ties that bind, and there are ties that matter.  Treating fellow Americans with respect is a tie that matters.  So this road trip is about treating fellow Americans with respect while listening to what they say about that evergreen question that impacts us all: “What’s Next?”

EML