I saw this guy in an older Chevy Pick-up this morning. He’s about my age, wearing a John Deere hat, big wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth. I’m left wondering Red Man or Levi Garrett.

The truck had some Trump bumper sticker’s,  a “Stop Planned Parenthood” bumper sticker, a flag,  America flag. I was pretty sure his radio was to set to some country music station…

I’m hoping there would be Hank Sr. or George Jones. Those guys were goddamn poets. Maybe some Earl Scruggs. I don’t think you can really appreciate music until you have immersed yourself in Foggy Mountain Breakdown. I’m serious about this. All of this.

Standing there I was looking at this guy in envy, not contempt, genuine envy. He has his beliefs, he is comfortable with them and he doesn’t question, and he is proud.

I have no belief system, I don’t believe in anything. I think when I was a real little boy I believed in the greatness of this country. They used to bring in Russians to my school and these guests would tell us about the horrible living conditions in the, then, Soviet Union, and we would all go home, carrying our Superman lunch boxes, knowing that we lived in the country that was on the side of right and God and law.

People mistake me when they think I am mocking guys like this guy in the truck, nothing could be further from that.

I want to fall into that life and be that guy. I want to believe in something, I want to believe in this government, I want to look up to the president. I want to sit at my grandma’s kitchen table and believe in her Jesus, her Roosevelt.

What is so broken in me that I refuse to believe in anything.

I’ve been waiting for the illusion to unravel all my life. Now that it is happening it makes me sad, it makes me miss something that never was. It didn’t start in November 2016, by the way, it’s been quietly coming apart as long as I’ve been around.