The Big Country

This is the time of year I go see family in Washington D.C. -- a place I accidentally call home, even though I haven't lived there for years.

Sometimes in airplanes; more often in automobiles, riding up and out of Ohio, through the mountains, coasting down the Chesapeake Bay watershed into the city. My pulse begins to quicken as I join into the bumper-to-bumper, 90-mile-an-hour Beltway traffic.

Years ago I was the detached city kid on the D.C. Metro train, watching the families from the Midwest have too-loud, unironic conversations about seeing the dinosaur bones and ruby slippers at the Smithsonian. Lately I am on the other side of the glass, and a much happier person.

My latest trip confirmed everything about the divide between the Blue and Red states. The chasm of misunderstanding is daunting. The country needs a cultural exchange program within it's own borders.