USA TODAY International Edition
My pro-Trump dad taught me empathy
Our relationship was worth more than politics
The last present I bought my dad was a red Make America Great Again beanie. In mid-December, I took a visiting friend to a gift shop near the White House so he could buy political gifts for his cousins. Then I realized I didn’t yet have a gift for my dad.
I had long tried to make light of our political differences, buying him a Hillary Clinton car air freshener years earlier that received a thumbs-down. Given his support for President Donald Trump, I thought the hat would be a funny nod to his views. Yet my stomach dropped on Christmas when I watched him slip it on his head with a goofy grin.
Four months later, I walked into my dad’s home office hours after he died in a car accident. I spotted the MAGA hat, perched on a stone bust sitting atop the piano. When I awoke the next morning, I saw my mom had quietly packed away this reminder of our disagreements.
I was raised in the Republican stronghold of western Michigan with Christian values and conservative beliefs. Growing up, I largely adhered to my dad’s views. Yet seven years in Europe during my 20s — where I benefited from “socialized” medicine, witnessed 9/11, traveled and debated with foreigners — challenged my worldview and I returned home as a Democrat.
My psychologist father never understood why or how I strayed from his path. He was troubled by the election of President Barack Obama, which initially made it hard for him to celebrate my professional success when I joined the State Department. Eventually, he could applaud the cooler aspects of my job (like flying on Air Force Two) and discussing its nonpartisan challenges (like democratic backsliding in Turkey).
Our predicament was reversed after the 2016 election, when my dad’s vote in Michigan was counter to my values and employment prospects. His relief at Trump’s victory meant I refrained from phoning home for a few weeks until I felt I could be civil. Several friends who were ardent Clinton supporters were appalled that I was even speaking to my dad. Our political conversations usually ended with us staring gapemouthed at each other. It was like looking in a mirror: My enthusiasm for Obama’s policies was matched by his desire for Trump to course-correct.
Our situation made me sensitive to how Democratic leaders sometimes portrayed the other side. My dad was a product of his time, but he was not “deplorable.” He didn’t “cling to guns,” though his rural upbringing made him skilled with a bullwhip. He didn’t “cling” to religion, even writing a book to help those harmed by the church.
Observing my dad’s curiosity helped me become a more bipartisan thinker. He talked to everyone, from the congressman he met at the airport to the parking garage attendant. He was interested in them because he believed people do what makes sense to them. He also taught me that life is about choosing your problems; I decided preserving our relationship was more important than proving political points.
Since the election, I have spoken about government service from the coasts to the heartland. Inspired by my dad, I talked to people I met along the way: a shop owner in Montana who argued guns were essential in rural areas, a Yellowstone tour guide who welcomed local immigrants but worried about others, and a Missouri businessman who wanted less regulation. We didn’t always agree, but I embrace my dad’s belief that everyone generally wants the best for family and country.
In November 2020, I’ll be actively campaigning for the Democratic nominee. But I’ll also be wishing that Trump would get one more vote in Michigan.