I’m married to a man of a different faith, religiously and politically. Religiously, we have no real differences, as our religions, while different, are rather compatible (I see that as a nice little gift from the universe).
Politically? My husband votes for the person who best reflects his own values: a fiscal conservative who wants government dollars to be fairly earned and effectively spent, and wants never to get into anybody’s personal business.
He doesn’t consume political blogs like they’re potato chips, like I do. (He doesn’t have the time.) He sees election year machinations as a lot silliness; he wants to see candidates debate issues, read details of plans, and get past all the rhetoric, posturing, and grandstanding that I dive right into, headfirst. (He doesn’t like drama.)
If I did what he did, I’d probably have fewer headaches.
I’d love it if he agreed with me on everything. But he simply doesn’t. And I love that, too. He challenges me to remove emotional response from my debating repertoire. He expects me to base whatever I say on objectively researched and documented fact. He’s an Independent, and he makes me a smarter Democrat.
Tonight, he said in passing, while looking at an image of Romney on the television screen: “I can’t figure that guy out. I don’t know what it is about him, but he doesn’t seem trustworthy.”
I wanted to hoot and holler and sing “Hallelujah!”
But I didn’t. I just pointed out his new Economist’s cover story: “So Mitt, what do you really believe?”
I have faith.