HELLER FACES MOSTLY FRIENDLY CROWD RIDING IN PARADE IN ELY

“Never before, in the 15 times that I’ve marched in this parade, have I had people so focused on a single issue,” Sen. Susan Collins of Maine, who rejected the latest version of the bill, said in an interview shortly after walking the parade route in Eastport, Maine. “I think it’s because health care is so personal.”

On Tuesday, Collins and the few other Republican senators who ventured out — most of them opponents of the current bill, and most in rather remote locales — were largely rewarded with encouragement to keep fighting.

This may be promising for other senators who are not planning to stay in all week. Capito and Portman, for example, have public events set for the coming days. The delay in voting on the Senate bill, which Capito strongly rebuffed, has taken some of the heat off, although activists in West Virginia said signs had been readied for Tuesday’s parades just in case.

Other Republicans will soon be out and about, and some already have been. Sen. Bill Cassidy of Louisiana was met with Friday chants of “Vote no!” in a Baton Rouge church as he discussed the state’s recovery from the 2016 floods. Sen. Jerry Moran of Kansas plans three town hallstyle meetings this week in the western part of his state, and Sen. Charles Grassley of Iowa has scheduled nine as part of his annual tour of the state’s 99 counties.

While the receptions they receive may vary, judging by those in the streets Tuesday, the primary subject will not.

“Health care! Health care! Health care!” Hilary Georgia, a part-time resident of Eastport, cried as Collins passed the spectators in camp chairs unfolded before neat wooden houses.

Eastport, which is recognized as the easternmost city in the United States, draws a large and festive crowd on Independence Day, even though it is about as remote as Wrangell, Alaska, where Sen. Lisa Murkowski, another key Republican in the health care debate, took part in a parade Tuesday as well.

There was no escaping politics, however. The reception for Collins was one of gratitude for her disapproval of the Senate bill, mixed with some anxiety over whether she would stick to her position.

“I’m still concerned because I know it keeps getting revised,” said Kristin Mckinlay, 44, an independent voter who is worried that a new bill could leave her without health insurance and stopped Collins to introduce herself because she had called the senator’s office so many times. “I hope we have her commitment.”

At a late-morning parade in Ely, in northern Nevada surrounded for miles by only sagebrush and juniper trees, Sen. Dean Heller, who has come out against the bill, rode down Aultman Street on a horse.

“Get in line behind Trump!” one man shouted, while an older man offered, “Thanks for protecting Medicare!” Generally, however, comments remained subdued in Ely — perhaps in part because, as several people along the parade route said, residents were just surprised to see Heller there.

This was still more activity than anything done by Gardner of Colorado, who has not had a town hall-style meeting this year. Coloradans have noticed. In February, hundreds gathered for a mock town hall-style meeting in Denver, where they addressed questions to a cardboard cutout of the senator. Last week, wheelchair-using constituents occupied his office for 60 hours in protest of cuts proposed in the health care bill, before being dragged out by the police.

Gardner’s Fourth of July was devoid of public events, although on July 3, he could be seen on his front lawn in his hometown, Yuma, playing with squirt guns and smoke bombs with his children.

This was as combative as his holiday was likely to get. Even though 1 in 4 residents of Yuma County receives Medicaid assistance, and many would probably lose their health care coverage under the Senate bill, those who disagree around Yuma tend to keep quiet.

“I wanted to say something so bad, let him know what I thought,” said a woman on a nearby porch, who gave her name only as Edna and identified herself as a 76-year-old lifelong Republican. She said several people in her family would lose coverage if the Affordable Care Act’s expansion of Medicaid were rolled back, but when she ran into Gardner with his grandmother at the Yuma Days dance at the local high school a week ago, she let it drop.

“I went to school with his aunt,” Edna said. “I see his mom and dad daily. We are all friendly. Am I going to boo at him in front of his grandmother in her wheelchair?”

There is also the question of whether talking to one’s senators, much less yelling at them, will make much of a difference anyway, a pessimistic thought on a day celebrating the ideals of self-government.

“I think they’ve got their priorities mixed up,” said Connie Christiansen, standing on the lawn of her family’s house in Shell Rock, Iowa, having watched as Boy Scouts, tractors, ATVS and musicians — but no U.S. senators — pass by.

If she saw Grassley, she said, she would tell him to retire. She had simply forgotten about Iowa’s other senator, Joni Ernst.

Christiansen called her 25-year-old cousin, Maggie Cain, over with a question: What do you think about talking to senators?

“I feel like it wouldn’t really make a difference,” Cain replied.

“See?” Christiansen said. “It doesn’t make a difference how young you are. You feel the same. Helpless.”