When Politics Becomes Personal

The cows grazed on plenty of grass and the sheep were staying within my fencelines.

Some of my hay still sat in my field, but I was crossing off jobs at a noticeable pace in the warm sunshine.

My mom came for a visit.

This was different from last fall, with 28 inches of snow on September 28.

It felt good.

But the forecast predicted nine to 15 inches of snow and record cold at the ranch.

I double-fed the lambs in the corral and the ewes and cows in the pasture, then I put the bucket on my skid steer.

I know how to dig myself out of snowdrifts. Don’t ask me how.

We didn’t get 15 inches of snow. Instead, about 5 inches created 5-foot drifts.

As the flakes were falling furiously, my friend Ron texted to say he had chains for my skid steer, just in time.

He had watched me spin in place while clearing snow last winter. He was on his way out to put on new chains.

Wow! Who knew chains would keep me from spinning holes in the snow? I didn’t get high-centered even once and cleared snow twice as fast.

I don’t mind the snow this time of year.

I know it will melt and give me a second chance to finish my fall projects. Meanwhile, trudging through knee-deep powder in heavy coveralls just gives me another excuse to eat chocolate.

The lambs in the corral need 75-pound small square bales. As I pack each bale to another drift in the corral, my mind turns it into a dark chocolate Dove Bar.

The storm benefits my mental health, too.

I don’t hear the nasty political ads when I’m on the skid steer or packing small square bales.

I don’t hear people who have so many common values insult one another for the values they don’t share.

I don’t hear accusations and innuendoes that slap my face with their menacing tones.

But sometimes, politics become personal.

Ten days ago, my daughter, Abby, and I attended a birthday party.

Eight adults and three little kids laughed and ate together, once again avoiding the nasty insults, accusations and innuendoes for a short time.

Four days later, one of the guests tested positive for Covid-19.

I called the county health nurse for advice. She said she doesn’t trace contacts more than two days prior to symptoms showing up.

I was reassured.

I hugged my mom as she left to go back home.

Two days later, two more guests tested positive.

One is still functioning almost normally.

One is flat on his back in bed.

I tried to talk myself into believing everything would be fine, that I could live life normally without risking someone else’s health.

I tried to keep silent and let Abby enjoy the benefits of in-person school.

I really tried.

In my mind, I reviewed all of the questions people raise about the dangers of Covid, the efficacy of masks and my to-do list.

Then I thought about my friends who have compromised immune systems.

I thought about the teenager from Fairfield who was life-flighted to Salt Lake City when her immune system blew up and almost drowned her.

I thought about hugging my mom.

We are quarantining.

I called the school. Abby can learn from home.

I made other arrangements for my activities that require in-person contact.

For the past 10 days, Abby and I naturally avoided most people. The winter storm kept us from mixing it up with others.

We can tolerate another week of inconvenience so others don’t need to.

Because sometimes politics become personal.