Snapshots of a Nation

WALLACE, Idaho

Business was slow in the Brooks Hotel coffee shop early on July 3. Other than this traveler from North Carolina, there were just the waitress and the local good ol' boys, the same group you see in this kind of coffee shop in every town in America.

The boys were discussing the usual topics -- the equipment to fix, plans to hunt (or fish), "the wife" and family.

Travel alone for nearly 10 weeks, as I did this spring and summer, and you conduct a lot of conversations with wait and motel staff, other travelers, bus riders and guys sitting at the bar at 6 p.m. You also overhear a lot of talk, and these boys were having a fun one. Then the big guy in the corner mentioned California's governor and the tone got ugly, quickly.

When I left North Carolina in early May, we were only weeks past some disturbing news: Some Americans were so angry that they were threatening violence to "retake" their country from the government. A guy flew a suicide mission into a federal building. Tea-party activists shouted down their congressmen.

I headed west wanting to see whether America really is that angry.

Shouting from right and left

The guy in the coffee shop was. What had been a pleasant give-and-take among the six became a harangue. He hoped California would cut salaries for all public workers. He had also called his congressman and demanded that he vote against a bill in Washington. His anger climaxed in a threat. More on that later.

Not all of the angry talk came from the right. Along the Portland waterfront one gorgeous June Saturday, a young fellow had a bullhorn and was letting thousands of us know the evils of the U.S. military-industrial complex. A bit later he engaged in a shouting match with a bystander at a U.S. Marine recruiting booth.

During my time on the road, I heard a lot of outbursts like these -- just not as dramatic. The right-wing anger came mostly from people who look like me. Mostly men in my age group -- I'm 59 -- and white. A few women nodded along. The left-wing anger came from a much more diverse crowd, including some people who look like me.

Concerns about immigration

Well into "Miller Time" in the lounge of a Decorah, Iowa, restaurant, one fellow was complaining about immigration. The motel booking agent in Oregon spent 30 minutes telling me how the federal government was killing the work incentive. And, in what had to be one of the strangest encounters of my life, an art museum guard in Portland whispered his concerns about government health care and then followed my sister and me from one gallery to another. More on that later, too.

The immigration issue may be big here, but it is even bigger in the West. The Hispanic population in most Western states is much bigger than here. Obviously, some of the Hispanics are recent arrivals, and the Western states are struggling to deal with them. It is hard to argue with frustrated westerners who urge their states to act considering that Congress has lacked the courage to do so for nearly 20 years.

A good many people who may look like recent arrivals are not, however, and those American citizens have serious concerns about racial profiling. It's important to remember that the United States took much of the West, absorbing a good many Mexican citizens, from Mexico after the Mexican War in 1848. The descendants of those people still live in the West with family histories of American citizenship much longer than mine.

Remember, too, that Chinese immigrants built much of the Pacific Coast rail system in the 19th century and that there have long been large populations of Japanese Americans out West, too. The published and broadcast commentary that I heard from these and other ethnic groups centered on how white Americans mistakenly believe that they built this country all on their own.

We in North Carolina have lived in a bit of an ethnic cocoon. This state was long one of the least diverse in the country. Travel north beyond Richmond or west beyond Nebraska, however, and the racial diversity of this country jumps out at you. For fun one day, I tried to discern the different ethnic backgrounds of just the Asian Americans I saw on a Portland commuter train. The variety was stunning: Indians, Pakistanis, Japanese, Chinese, Koreans, Filipinos, Vietnamese and others I couldn't identify.

Figuring out who is here legally isn't easy, especially when the waitress in a New York bar speaks with a brogue. Is she here illegally, or is she putting on that accent to get a bigger tip from a guy wearing a Fighting Irish ball cap?

Aches, pains and health care

One drawback of being a senior is that your contemporaries drone on about their physical ailments. So, I heard about plenty of health problems, and in that context concerns about national health care arose. But here is what surprised me from all of these conversations, including that with the museum guard. Not a one discussed bad experiences with a government-run health system. Everyone said they wanted the right to pick their own doctors, but almost everyone also blamed their health problems on their insurers and their private physicians they chose themselves. The museum guard's problems arose from treatment by a surgeon employed by his HMO.

When it comes to good health, it's time for some national candor. It is obvious that many Americans want it to be convenient. Take my lunch in Hannibal, Mo. There must have been 75 patrons in there, and I was the thinnest non-employee male in the place. Most of the women were larger than me, too, and I'm not skinny.

As a population, we are overweight and we are eating ourselves into poor health. You can see it everywhere. The health experts who keep reminding us of this are not making it up. The evidence is right there on the streets, and in the restaurants, of many American towns.

But not all of them. In some communities, instead of being the skinniest guy in town, I was the fattest. Visit Evergreen, Colo., for example. The community ethic leans heavily toward fitness and it shows. (My little red Volvo could barely climb the road leading up to the town, 7,220 feet above sea level, but bicyclists were energetically pedaling their way alongside me.) I saw the same thing in other areas. In cities, people walk more and are generally thinner. Writers to The New York Times recently hypothesized that standing through a subway ride is isometric exercise good for abdominal muscles.

My point is that while a lot of us complain about health-care costs and reform, many of us are also killing ourselves by gaining too much weight, me included.

While much of the national attention is focused on anger from the right of the political system, I also saw a protest parade through very liberal Portland by activists upset about police practices. And liberal activists were also expressing their sentiments regarding immigration, the closing of some local schools and environmental concerns.

All of which brings me back to the question I had when I left home: Is the country so angry that we face some kind of violent reaction?

My answer is no, and one episode from a Wednesday morning in the middle of Kansas best illustrates why. I had pulled off a two-lane road to participate, via cell phone, in the Journal's weekly editorial board meeting. I turned on the emergency flashers and turned off the car.

While I tried to talk to the folks back in Winston-Salem, local folks repeatedly interrupted to inquire of my well-being. It was very amusing, and it was not the only time I encountered people being friendly and helpful to each other.

I saw transit riders helping a blind man who had gotten disoriented, pedestrians help an old man who had fallen and a fellow volunteer to jump start a woman's car. I was greeted warmly by friendly Americans all across the country and got pleasant good-byes and admonitions to "drive safe" from people I had just disagreed with.

On the way home, I heard a radio discussion about altruism. An author was explaining how people are inherently kind to each other even in times of stress. I certainly saw that.

I also saw calm in the face of rancor. A U.S. Marine stood quietly during the riverfront war protester's harangue. Later, I chatted to him about a Navy corpsman in my family, and the Marine said, "I could agree with some of what (the protester) said. But he is making a jerk out of himself the way he says it."

I heard people tell of being out of work. Some said they'd just retire and work part time. Others talked of carving out new lives for themselves in new ways. "I didn't need all of that stuff I was buying, anyhow," one said to me. But one mom, speaking to a friend on a trolley car, broke my heart when she said with resignation, "I need a job."

So, this is just one man's observation of the mood of the country in the summer of 2010: angry but not out of control. As I traveled this year and last, as I saw the enormous differences in our people, our regional and local economies, our physiques, our baseball caps and our interests, I became more convinced than ever that this country truly has some invisible stuff that glues us together despite all of the reasons we should tear ourselves apart.

Going back to friendly, beautiful Wallace, Idaho, and the really angry guy who issued that threat if his congressman didn't vote his way. His angry threat was that he would vote against him in November.

That says a lot about America and how we handle our anger.

Paul O'Connor writes editorials for the Journal.