Ray Gorham: Daunting Days of Winter

“Why’s that?” Sean asked.

“Because he put into words what I’ve feared for some time but was hoping to be wrong about.”

“And that is?”

“That we really are on our own. I mean REALLY on our own. Our government, which we’d become so dependent on and which seemed so powerful, when it gets right down to it, really is unable to do much for us besides deliver a load of seeds, for which I am grateful. But it kind of pulls the mask off that whole charade, doesn’t it?”

Sean smiled and nodded. “It does in a way, Farmer Tait. But who’s more to blame? The ones who perform the charade, or the ones who buy the act when they should’ve known better?”

Kyle sighed. “Ouch. That hits a little close to home. Hopefully I’m a lot wiser, if I ever have the chance to fill out a ballot again.”

Sean patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, Kyle. We’re going to be all right. A country isn’t great because of its government. A country is great because of its people, and there are plenty of us around who aren’t willing to throw in the towel.”