Political Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Up here in impoverished rural Ontonagon County, Michigan (Porcupine County in my novels), there seem to be almost no roadside political signs in front of homes along the streets and highways. Yesterday, in the eleven miles between Ontonagon village and Silver City to the west, I counted just three properties with Trump signs and one with a Bernie banner. The biggest sign was for the incumbent sheriff, running for re-election.

In the past, Ontonagon Countians have been as involved and as passionate in their politics, whether Republican or Democratic, as citizens of anyplace else in the rest of the United States. You used to know the allegiance of just about every one of your neighbors just by what they put out on the lawn, never mind fervent barroom and cafe wrangles. The local weekly used to be full of letters ripping a strip off the Other Side. People used to be engaged.

True, the conventions have yet to happen, but it seems that folks up here in the boonies—and, I bet, most of the rest of the country—are heartily sick of the politics of 2016. Both Trump and Hillary seem highly unpopular. (Bernie not so much, but I wouldn’t call him a shoo-in either.)

My conversations with the locals have led me to the admittedly unscientific conclusion that the election cycle has become so long, so intense, so hateful, so full of at best dubious and at worst outrageous statements that people throughout the political spectrum are suffering from extreme campaign fatigue.

Makes me wonder if voters here and maybe everywhere will either sit out the presidential election or trickle to the polls holding their noses, voting against the candidate they either like least or dislike most. There seem to be no positives to vote for.

Things could change between now and November. But I don’t think so. I think we will just see more and more of the same.

Memorial Day dawn at the Writer's Lair

Just before the sun peeked over the horizon at the Writer's Lair near Ontonagon, Michigan, I padded outdoors in bathrobe and slippers to capture this portrait of Lake Superior.

Tea Party

It was with a slight bit of trepidation that yesterday I attended the Tea Party rally in Ontonagon, Michigan, on the shore of Lake Superior. Even though I'm a liberal, "know thine enemy" wasn't on my mind; rather, as a writer I sought further insight into the people that provide the prototypes for the "Porkies" in my Porcupine County mystery novels.

I counted 100 of them as the rally opened, about 125 when I left half an hour later. Most were over 60; all were white. That's not really significant, because the median age in Ontonagon County (46 years) is the highest in all Michigan, and nonwhites make up less than 1 per cent of the population. Liberal Democratic rallies would be just as white, although considerably younger.

The Tea Partiers' political sentiments, echoed in patriotic speeches by several candidates for state office and Congress, seemed unremarkable, too. Familiar ultraconservative beliefs were broadcast over the loudspeakers: trust in God, small government, family values, term limits, property rights, low taxes. There was also a good deal of anti-incumbent, anti-abortion, anti-liberal, anti-Obamacare and pro-military rhetoric.

But it was delivered in mostly soft tones, and received the same way. The applause was polite, even subdued.

People were friendly to the stranger with the big camera. There was no hostility at all.

My sense is that whatever one might say about their politics, these are good folks, unworthy of being demonized by their political opposites.

But would these Tea Partiers extend the same forbearance to their brethren who hold different views? That is the question.
























The press was there, doing its job.


I once rode a vintage Indian motorcycle like this one.