Sometimes I feel like our political leaders are involved in a street fight. And it’s getting ugly and scary and we’re not sure what the fight is really about. And who started it and how it will end. But one thing we do suspect is that when it’s over the blood will be on us.

Or it’s like a domestic squabble where the police are called to figure out what’s going on and in the process one of the cops gets shot. And we’re the cop.

I’ve been dealing a lot in images lately because I feel there is such little straight talk on what’s really happening in the free-for-all over the deficit, spending cuts, tax breaks, tax loopholes, entitlements, revenue increases and the debt ceiling.

We’re just sitting there waiting for the fight to end and see how we get hit.

The president likes his metaphors. He says we have to rip off the Band-Aid. He says we have to eat our peas. Tighten the old belts. I know he’s talking to me when he says that and people like me. But, is that everybody? Are the rich eating their peas?

I’ve pretty much stopped paying attention to political leaders of either side who talk about “our seniors” as if they really care. If you care about “our seniors” you don’t bludgeon Medicare and Social Security. Right now I feel like those of us who thought we could rely on both are being pushed to the edge of a cliff and some people are yelling “save them” and others are saying “jump.”

It’s particularly telling when members of Congress talk about “our seniors” as if they aren’t one of us. The average age of both houses of Congress is 58, which is old enough to be long on the AARP mailing list and to move into a retirement community. You’d think they’d relate but they don’t. Is it because nearly half of Congress are millionaires? So they don’t personally worry about safety nets. And so all the talk is about getting rid of programs rather than figuring out a way to save them.

Here’s another image. We like to say we’re all in the same boat but this one feels like the Titanic.
The rich are on top and the rest of us are in steerage. And when the ship starts to take on water, the people in steerage are the first to drown and the people upstairs keep dancing. But then the whole thing goes under. And even the rich are looking around for the security of a life boat.

I put in a call to Mr. Republican. That would be my late father, V. Paul, or Victor Paul. I’d like him to sit in his chair in my living room and talk politics. The wingback’s been in the family for three generations and what he was sitting in when he died of a heart attack while watching the Today show more than 20 years ago in Pennsylvania.

I’m ready for a talk with a life-long proud member of the GOP. V. Paul loved being a Republican and gave me an “I Like Ike” pin when I was little. I sure did like my dad so I wore the pin although it didn’t turn me into a Republican.

I wonder if my dad and Ike know that Susan Eisenhower, the late president’s Republican granddaughter campaigned for Obama. She worried that the political environment was being taken over by angry, noisy extremists. That was over a year ago, in a relatively civilized time before town meetings, Washington marches and presidential addresses turned into a hate-it, hate-him blood sport.

(Speaking of mood swings, I can’t believe it was only this spring I wrote about Americans becoming less rancorous. Boy, did my inner Pollyanna speak too soon.)

But back to V. Paul. I’d liked to ask my dad why he thinks other rational, smart and compassionate Republicans like himself would allow gun-toting fear-mongers to take over their party and foul its legacy. I know there are radicals on both sides but where’s the conservative balance?

Are there no Republicans who cringe when they see this craziness being committed in their name?

I think back to last October when John McCain stood up to the screamers in Minnesota to reassure a woman that Obama was a decent family man and there was no reason to fear him. It reminded me why even some Democrats once thought McCain might make a good president. But the crowd booed McCain. They didn’t want to hear any respectful words about Obama, and that seemed to end it for any high profile Republican daring to set a gracious example.

Too bad. It’s a fine American tradition to disagree. My dad and I used to argue each other’s ideas at the dinner table until he’d finally declare a halt, saying “We’re upsetting your mother.”

I don’t want to demonize Republicans. I don’t want to stereotype them as the No Party. But I don’t get why they give a pass to the rowdy, rude and sometimes racist crowd who seem bent on scaring America.

I don’t believe that all Republicans are out to punish the poor and immigrants and think anyone who needs government help is a deadbeat. But why are there no leaders telling their people to keep it civil and if they want respect to leave the damn guns at home?

My dad and I would certainly disagree over the government taking on health care for all. One of his first jobs was selling insurance in Pittsburgh. The first time I ever heard the term “socialized medicine” was from him. As for Afghanistan and Iraq, it would be the same arguments we had over Vietnam.

But V. Paul argued in a rational, educated way. He didn’t care for coarse vulgar people.
He’d think anyone shouting “you lie” to the president of the United States was pretty much a jackass.

My dad believed that America was the greatest country and the Republican party truly grand but I’d love to know, from his vantage point, if he still thinks that.

Sit down, Dad. We need some help down here.

On a soggy weekend in between rain storms four of us grabbed an umbrella table at a restaurant and haggled over optimism. Three of the four declared ourselves hopeful. The other, a lifelong eyebrow-raiser, asked, “Do you think he can really solve everything?”

Well, not everything, we chimed in. But yes, some things. And what a relief to have someone so very smart and confident, surrounded by brainy people with new, maybe even workable ideas on how to do business and government.

Well, she said, she guessed she was in the minority.

On that weekend close to 70 percent of Americans were reported as approving of President Obama, which put our table pretty much in line with the national ratio. Our admitted skeptic did vote for him and surely would not have wanted the other guy, she said. But how can we all be so sure?

Well, we’re not. Nobody’s sure of anything. In terms of tomorrow, we don’t know what to expect with the economy or another world flu outbreak. But in spite of each new calamity – “good morning Mr. President, today we have pirates” – there does seem to be a new sense of hope and even greater agreement among Americans.

Disagreement is not a bad thing.

It’s not that we don’t hold onto our differences, some deep and insurmountable. But it doesn’t feel as rancorous. My stomach doesn’t clench like it did during the last few years, when I resisted bringing up certain subjects in undeclared living rooms.

We all pretty much agree on evidence global warming, not only by looking out the window at our own freaky weather. We also seem to agree that our fairy tale spending days are over and have stopped blindly trusting Wall Street and Big Banking. At the same time, we’re getting better at trusting each other. More Americans now agree with gay marriage, which, on this, makes Iowa more progressive than California.

On some issues we still remain a tender lot. When I mentioned abortion rights to a colleague I hadn’t seen in years, she warned me off, saying, “We can’t go there.”

Lee, a friend back east, and I were talking about how there are some differences that you may be able to gloss over with an old pal or brother-in-law but not if you’re picking out new best friends. She was at party and met a woman she thought could be new-friend potential. They hit it off, discussing travel and other subjects, but when Lee, who has spent her life in social work, expressed hope for Obama’s social programs, the other woman suddenly turned cold. And that was it. Bad match. Impossible political chasm. End of conversation.

Certainly there are many issues which will continue to separate us. Taxes versus spending. Immigrant reform. The importance of unions. Using government money to teach kids to paint pictures and play the trumpet. What to do about guns. Whether and how to develop the north end of town.

And disagreement is not a bad thing. Yet, it has felt so ugly and pointless during the last years of “my way or the highway” thinking at the top. Now we’ve got a President saying it’s helpful to have differences but we don’t have to get nasty about it.

Back to the conversation under the umbrella. My friend the skeptic finally conceded that she would have to wait and see. She had one parting shot, however.

“Do you really believe he’s a true dog person?” she asked.
Doesn’t matter, we said in chorus. The kids are in charge of the dog.