Wake up and smell the coffee you probable Trump voters!

I’ve read several articles about the typical Trump supporter’s frame of mind. As is the case with us Trumpbusters (We ain’t 'fraid of no Donald!), I don’t fathom the Trump-lovers mind. I mean, every poll shows a 33-35 percent approval rate for 45. New polls show Biden leading Trump 50%-45% in Pennsylvania. Really? Who makes up these 45 percent? Cretins? Gun nuts? Evangelical and Catholic anti-abortion voters? Groundhogs who spend too much time in their burrows playing ultra-violent video games? Ghost of Confederate soldiers killed at Gettysburg. 

And what about that 5% in the undecided column? What are they waiting for, Christmas? (too late!)

My Pennsylvania experiences have been mostly just traveling through. My wife Chris was born in a Harrisburg orphanage, so I thank the state for that. On Labor Day weekend 1993, my eight-year-old son Kevin, our dog and I drove a rental truck hauling our worldly goods to a house in Rockville, Maryland. In a week. I was starting a job at the National Endowment for the Arts, located in the deepest darkest region of The Swamp that Trump swore he was draining. I worked for two years on the seventh floor of the Old Post Office. It's now the seventh floor of the Trump Grand Hotel and Swamp Thing Aerie. 

We hit a Penn Turnpike rest stop for a bio break. As Kevin walked the dog, I went over to a booth sponsored by the local Kiwanis and got a free cup of coffee and a doughnut. A middle-aged man behind the counter asked where I was from. I said Wyoming and he asked if that was Wyoming, PA, and I said, no, that’s WY USA, that big square state north of CO. I told him I was traveling to a temporary assignment with the Feds in D.C. 

He shot me a stern look and asked, “You ain’t one of those Clinton fellas, are you?” 

I said yes, I guess I am. 

He nodded and gave me a look that said I wish I could take back my coffee and eat that doughnut myself. He then moved off to serve another caffeine-deprived motorist. 

One of them Clinton fellas? I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess I was. At least one Pennsylvania resident dedicated to highway safety was not fond of this Clinton fella or anyone who worked for him. 

Kevin ran over with the dog. The man served him a doughnut and some juice and didn’t ask if he also was a Clinton fella. I could have told him that Kevin was a dedicated Bush fella, a supporter of George H.W. Bush who said that President Bush had been a big influence on him and asked us to take him to Cheyenne GOP HQ to watch the returns with fellow travelers. Chris and I left him in the hands of strangers and went across town to the Democrats’ reception that soon turned into a celebration. 

When we picked up Kevin, he drank juice and munched a sandwich while he and a smattering of disappointed GOPers watched the TV screen. Kevin later said that the people at the watch party had treated him with kindness. That was back when “kind” could be found in the Repub lexicon. 

I have no beef with Pennsylvanians. But I will if they give Trump the presidency for another four years. Wake up and smell the free roadside coffee, you voters of the Quaker State!