WE LEFT LOS ANGELES at 6am. Dad was driving, so I was asleep before we even merged on to the 134. I woke up just outside of Beaumont. A billboard emblazoned across the highway in Old West font read: “Gramma’s Country Kitchen — God Bless America.”
I live in a multicultural liberal bubble; I sometimes forget that our country is currently embroiled in a debate about which kind of Republicanism should dominate conservative thought. God or Capitalism? That discussion hasn’t quite reached the blue corridors of LA, but we found it at Gramma’s. Just 80 minutes outside of LA you realize you’ve hit the middle of the country.