The Great Divide

Copyright 2018 Anita Fontana

The Great Divide

Throughout the evening, the fact that she was absorbed in the panel discussion, attentive, and took lots of notes kept drawing my attention to her. How could I have foreseen the way outside forces would shape the course of our relationship.

Having been a professional speaker and trainer for over 30 years was the closest I have ever gotten to feeling like a celebrity. It’s an invigorating feeling standing in front of a group of people, sharing my wisdom, feeling the mood of the room and reading an audience. Whether I felt like one or not, I was the expert and they were there to hear what I had to say.

Years ago, I was invited to speak on a panel at an eBay event. When the discussion was over, people began milling around talking with each other, but this woman sat in her seat going over her notes, not talking to anyone. Several people came up to ask questions or tell me their stories, but she continued to sit in her seat.

After the crowd had thinned out I walked over to her, introduced myself and shook her hand. We chatted for a while and my feelings were confirmed that I wanted to get to know her. I suggested that we meet for lunch or dinner. Her reaction stunned me. She looked at me with huge eyes and a shocked look on her face and said, “YOU want to have lunch with ME?” It was a heady feeling.

We exchanged phone numbers and began getting together. We both belonged to a group of eBay sellers and we made sure that the other one would be at the monthly meeting and that whoever got there first would save a seat. We even would call from the car on our way to the venue, as if seeing each other at the meeting couldn’t come soon enough.

She was unlike anyone I’d ever known. Straightforward, honest, funny, wise, sincere, business-like without being cold, get the job done, generous, no bullshit. She was one of the least judgmental people I had ever met; not warm and fuzzy, just solid.

She had at least as many years of eBay selling as I had, and we shared an open respect for each other’s experience, sharing our knowledge and learning from each other. No matter how down I might have felt before our visits, I always left feeling happy, hopeful and rejuvenated after spending time with her. I knew I could count on her friendship.

Although we were different, we meshed together. Our friendship grew and, although most of our time was spent sharing our eBay experiences, we moved into a more personal relationship, talking about family, friends, our likes and dislikes. My admiration grew for her whenever she talked about her family. Unlike some women I have known, I never heard her say one negative word about her husband. And her mothering skills in dealing with her teenage son were far beyond any I had developed over the 20 years of helping raise two boys.

We collaborated on a business idea, forged by cooperation and teamwork. Ideas flowed freely and no thought or suggestion was rejected or judged by either of us. A rational, logical, humorous collaboration that gelled into a fun and educational venture.

Throughout the 3 years of our friendship, we had never discussed politics, so I didn’t know her party preference. One night early in the 2016 campaign, while having dinner with another eBay friend, the topic was broached, and our feelings surfaced.

Except for a short stint in high school when I joined the Young Republicans thinking it was a good way to meet boys, I have been a life-long Democrat. But that night I learned that she was what she called a moderate Republican, a “blend.” She said some things that made me uncomfortable, but I allowed my affection for her to override my discomfort.

We continued our friendship without any political discussion for a few months until one night at dinner we accidentally slid into the topic. That night I learned that not only was she a fanatical Trump supporter but a rabid Hillary hater. I was rendered speechless. I never dreamed that this logical, funny, non-judgmental person could champion someone who spewed hate. When I asked her how she could defend his behavior and ideas she bombarded me, for what felt like an hour, with reasons why Trump was the answer to all the country’s prayers and why Hillary was the devil herself. So much for being a “blend.”

A feeling of incredulousness overtook me to the point where I became mute. I could only react by shaking my head and putting my hands over my ears. I was incapable of defending my position or my feelings about the two candidates. I felt like I was being lectured on why all the things I believed in and held close to my heart were wrong. I felt myself getting smaller and smaller as she continued her tirade. I tried getting a few words in but was shouted down. She didn’t make me wrong; I just felt that way. I felt stupid being unable to defend my positions.

Finally, I told her to stop, that I couldn’t stand it anymore, that we would never agree and let’s just never discuss politics ever again. At least we agreed on that. We ended the evening by declaring that I was her favorite Democrat and she was my favorite Republican. We laughed and hugged as usual and said good night.

But all the way home I was sick to my stomach and tears stung my eyes as I drove. That night I shared my experience at length with my husband and walked around in a disbelieving trance for the next few days.

How could I reconcile this chasm between us? We had always been so much on the same page about almost everything. And, even though we were not twin minds, I never knew her to be a hate-spewing person.

A few weeks went by and we set a date to get together. I insisted that political discussion was banned, she agreed, and we laughed about it. But at the last minute she cancelled. We texted back and forth a few more times about getting together but then communication just stopped.

A mutual acquaintance posted on Facebook that if a friendship ended over the election then it was never a friendship to begin with. I thought about that long and hard and decided that the statement was an oversimplification of a true friendship. I came to realize that I couldn’t respect anyone who could advocate such a hateful point of view and that I could never be friends with someone I didn’t respect.

The election is over and, apparently, so is our friendship. I often wonder, as the craziness gets crazier, if she has changed her mind but I’m afraid to ask. I miss her every day.