We crossed the line at midday, at the tiny Beecher Falls, just south of East Hereford. No, our phones were not searched. We Canadians are received kindly.
As we went south, the snow gradually disappeared from the ground, and near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, we crossed another line into Mennonite/Amish territory. Fields and lawns were clipped short; people were friendly and polite. We were surrounded by Trump voters, but we did not talk politics.
Three days later, we crossed the Mason-Dixon Line enroute to Richmond, Virginia. This city voted bright blue in the recent elections, and the brightest line across its centre is Monument Avenue. Its five bronze statues of Confederate “heros,” including Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee, were torn down after the murder of George Floyd in 2020.

Lined by genteel southern mansions, it celebrated a race-based way of life, and engendered pride for some, and pain and rage for many others.
“Now I am able to drive down Monument Avenue,” said a friend, who is Black. “I never could, before.” Still standing is the Arthur Ashe Monument, honouring the African-American tennis champion.
Across the Blue Ridge Mountains, we passed through Harrisonburg, Virginia, reddest voting of the red districts, and Mennonite country. I remember, as a student, protesting the Vietnam War in front of the courthouse. Every Saturday a pair of us stood holding our placards. That was the first time in my life someone spat at me.

The Applachian Mountains form another line, as we go northwest. Our car’s GPS leads us along a ridge on a narrow, recently paved (part of President Biden’s infrastructure bill?) road. Leaving West Virginia, we once again cross the Mason-Dixon line, up to more Trump country near Butler, Pennsylvania, where Trump’s ear was shot in an assassination attempt before his second election.
At my brother’s home, his well-lighted sign in the window welcomes us. It is a rare sight in this town still dominated by lawn placards supporting Trump. “In our America,” it reads, “No human is illegal. Women are in charge of their own bodies. Science is real.” And more.
Wherever we go, TV news commentators speculate about the possible outbreak of civil war. In this America, lines crisscross families and neighbours. People keep their mouths shut, but protests are growing. We are all on the front lines, it seems.

Rachel writes, usually, from the old hamlet of Maple Leaf, in Newport (rawrites@gmail.com).