Send in the Clowns – by Jeremy Carl

Regardless of the candidate or the cause, I'm not a fan of political rallies.

Any large crowd, with its waving signs, descends too far into absurdity for my taste.

Any group shouting slogans reminds me of the crowd in the Bible who shouted “Give us Barabbas!”

And yet, I made an exception when Donald Trump decided to rally in my hometown of Montana; of course, he had been proud to hold a senior position in his administration, but more importantly, I thought it wasn't really a political demonstration but more of a cultural event—or perhaps like a circus appearance in the city And so I found myself in a parking lot in Bozeman, Montana at 11:30 in the morning with one of my sons, in line for a rally that wouldn't even start until 6:00 p.m. and for which the star attraction finally would not take. the stage until 9:30 p.m. And indeed, the wait turned out to be part of the fun.

A few hours into our wait, the speakers attached to the Jumbotron outside the arena started playing Judy Collins' version. Send in the clowns, a Grammy-winning version of the classic song from the Stephen Sondheim musical A Little Night Music. It's a beautiful, deep song, but as someone who knows the left-wing politics of Sondheim and Collins and grew up in the kind of liberal home where their music was played, the contrast between the song and my ruby-red vibe boisterous was quite incongruous. .

And yet, after some thought, it seemed very appropriate. Although the Sondheim standard has been covered by hundreds of artists, most people don't understand its meaning, and why it was undoubtedly a perfect song for the moment.

“It's a song of regret and anger,” Sondheim said of his tale of a love story gone wrong. The clowns in the song are not circus clowns; the singer of the musical is a theater actress who refers to the theater. “The show is not going well. . . we make jokes,” as Sondheim described it. But as the song later says: “Don't worry, they're here.” – or as Sondheim describes it:

“We're the fools.”

And it was true, and I say this with great respect for my fellow attendees, but with sadness for what much of America has become. Like Sondheim's landmark show, America is not very good, and in this sense my rallying companions were the “clowns” or fools of modern America, because they are the only ones who still believe in the show.

These Trump supporters are in some ways the last Americans: the kind of people who mark “American” as their ethnicity on the census. As “fools” they still believe in the promise of America, and that despite all that has happened, and all that has been done to them and their country, that the American experiment can be recovered.

They believe wholeheartedly that we can make America great again.

That's why they were here.

The attendees were mostly working and middle class. Some wore shirts with off-color references. They can, like Trump, be overly forceful. Their family situation may not always be Ozzie and Harriet, but throughout its history, when America calls, these are the kind of people who have always turned up. They believe in America and love America deep in their bones, not just in their voices.

Of course, the rally attracted a diverse group of people, including some of my “professional” friends in the area; at one point, I was in line behind a retired USC finance professor. But far more typical of the people I spoke to were middle- and working-class Americans who had driven from eastern Washington (six hours) or southern Wyoming (seven hours) because this was the closest they could see Trump in our empty neighborhood. of America We met our frequent nanny with her parents. They had driven five hours from their ranch in remote Eastern Montana.

Despite the total absence of crowd control — there was an embarrassingly low police presence — and a total lack of updates to explain why the doors opened more than an hour and a half late, these men and women — some of whom looked “dirty” behaved perfectly. . Despite the fact that many had been waiting for hours and traveling for hours more and it was certain that thousands would not even be able to enter the arena, everyone lined up in an orderly fashion. There was almost no line cutting and no rowdy behavior.

The few complaints I heard as the wait unfolded were delivered in a friendly manner. Everyone was polite. While the crowd was probably 95-98% white (it was a GOP event in a 90% white county, so that wasn't particularly surprising), there was no hint of politics d 'ethnic identity in none of the conversations I had, rather it was a celebration of an America and an unironic patriotism that has disappeared from most locals in our country. In most places, tempers would have been frayed as the wait dragged on for hours without explanation. Instead, these people, many of whom have seen their country “fundamentally transformed,” to quote Obama, and its core values ​​challenged and overturned by Americans, willingly endured with tremendous patience the long he waits to see his fighter: his man in the arena.

The rally itself was held in Montana's second-largest indoor court (there were about 10,000—well over capacity—seated on the basketball court). Jumbotrons out.

Trump was Trump in every sense, both good and imperfect. He entered the strains of Lee Greenwood's God bless the USA (the embedded video I took will give you some sense of the crowd's enthusiasm).

He knows how to connect with his audience effortlessly and with sincerity. He rambles on and on, but most attendees didn't care.

He gave a genuine appreciation of Montana's natural beauty (he got to see a lot of it after having to drive 140 miles from Billings to the rally site when his plane made an emergency landing). He joked (accurately) that everything in Montana was “about two hours away” from where you were. He was effective and ruthless in going after Jon Tester, the primary target of the rally.

Tim Sheehy, the businessman and former Navy SEAL who I believe will defeat Tester in the Montana Senate race, was polished in his presentation. Trump had come not because Montana was on the line, but to put Sheehy over the Senate race. He treated all the local dignitaries like a pro.

All in all, despite the long wait, my son and I were very glad we went.

Here in the land of flight, these were the people who put food on the table, who transported things back and forth, who fight in our wars, they are the people who have held America itself together. Maybe they are “dumb” for being the only Americans who still try to follow the rules of the game.

Meanwhile, in many of our cities, the basic rules of fair play have completely disappeared, I tried to imagine the audience at an urban concert, or even a suburban concert, behaving in this way while they waited for hours, and the very idea was laughable. The whole mood, with its retro music and even retroer demographic, was certainly a far cry from the twerktacular Harris campaign in Atlanta with Megan Thee Stallion about ten days earlier.

So maybe I was here with my fellow fools, but at least while the country crumbled around us, we were all momentarily enjoying our folly.

Or as the Bible says:

Let no one deceive himself. If any of you seem to be wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. For it is written, “He snares the wise with their own cunning”; and again, “The Lord knoweth that the thoughts of the wise are vain.” (1 Corinthians 3:18-20)

Maybe what America needs are “fools” like these.

So send in the clowns. We could use many more.