A few years ago, as an Uber driver, I gave a ride to a man and his children who were competing in a wrestling tournament in Portland. I asked where they were from and he said Nyssa. The man then said I might not know where that was. As a third-generation Oregonian, I did know where Nyssa is.

I asked if he farmed onions and potatoes, and he said he did. I told him, I appreciate what you do for us. His son piped up and said, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.” I assume he meant from someone living in the valley. It pains me to think he or I might might be categorized by our location or political beliefs.

It was obvious that he loves his family, his state, and his country, as do I. There are good people on both sides of the mountains. There was no red or blue on this ride, only mutual respect.

Charles Barr

Portland