Once upon a time, when, as a rideshare driver, I picked up two gentlemen from a hotel in a suburb of Akron - taking them to Cleveland for one of the closing days of the Republican National Convention in 2016.

The fellow that did the most talking, began saying to the other fellow how, as a Hispanic American, he was seemingly the most unlikely person to be a Republican delegate to the convention. He went on to say that he was a real moderate who was alarmed at the rhetoric that defined his party now. He expanded that self-defining characteristic with lamenting the inevitability that their party was actually going to name ‘this clown Trump’ as the party’s candidate - which he followed by the statement that America would most likely suffer from that decision for years to come, if not forever.

See Full Page