Hugh Warren, "Shadows On The Wall" (2020)
Death has stalked me of late, claiming those whom I was once close to, or who remained closest to those who are closest to me.
A friend from graduate school. My father’s cousin. The brother of an old and dear friend. A long time neighbor around the corner.
Four men who hailed from Iowa, North Carolina, the Bronx, and Baltimore. I knew them in those places, as well as in Nebraska and West Virginia.
A teacher, a business owner, a plumber, a dock manager.
Two of them were grandfathers, one had a step daughter, and two widows are left behind. Two of them never divorced, one never married, and one had multiple marriages.
Most were in their early 60s, one in his mid-70s.
Heart attack. Cancer. Cirrhosis. Probably a another heart attack.
The specter of death is lurking about me, close enough to draw tears, but far enough away as to leave my dearest loved ones unclaimed. At least lately. It is almost inconceivable that someone my age, assuredly closer to death than birth, has not lost the near and dear. I have, of course. But not lately, and not many. I am more fortunate than I could ever ask to be, rolling, rolling, rolling, and mostly dodging craps.
My father, just over seven years ago, but even he lived a fair bit longer than anyone who knew him might have guessed. Three grandparents whom I loved (a fourth when I was still quite small), but of course grandparents.
The man from Iowa whom I met in Nebraska, and who lived in West Virginia, an officer, a gentleman, and a scholar. A sweet man whom everyone loved and admired. He is the closest friend I’ve lost in my lifetime. And I’d not seen him in a decade. And this is not from a lack of friends. I am luck to have good friends. And there have been some scares, accidents survived, cancers beaten, heart attacks resuscitated.
There are only four U.S. states where white people are at least 80% of the population in every county: West Virginia, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. These four are also among the five whitest states as a percentage of total state population, with Wyoming coming in second, behind West Virginia (97%) and just ahead of Vermont and New Hampshire (both 92%). But not all of Wyoming’s counties are so very white because within its state boundaries are relatively populous Indian Reservations. None of the other four have reservations, except for Maine, its have relatively small Native populations.
There are some other similarities among these four states. Three of them are in New England, and all four can be considered part of the broader Northeast, defined as north of the South and not west of the Appalachians. All four are also all substantially mountainous. And none of them has a major city.
However, there are also notable political and economic differences among these four states. West Virginia is one of the nation’s poorest states, and now one of the reddest. Vermont and New Hampshire have very strong state economies. But whereas Vermont is one of the nation’s most liberal states, to the point of sending Bernie Sanders to Congress for thirty-four years and counting, New Hampshire is a purple state with a strong libertarian, anti-tax tradition. Meanwhile, Maine is also purple and its economic standing varies from rather wealthy to quite poor.
Comparing and contrasting these four states can remind us of the limits that both race and wealth offer in predicting U.S. political preferences.
There are certainly patterns and trends to be found, some stronger than others, such as the propensity of African Americans, particularly women, to vote Democratic.