Battle Hymn of the Evangelical: Part 3

Last week was about all the ways politics terrified me as a boy. This week is about the moment it all changed.

My family was caravanning to Michigan for a reunion. At a gas station outside Wichita, I hopped out to stretch my legs in the dense July air. My grandparents offered to let me ride in their mini van, and I jumped on the chance to escape my brothers. Ten minutes later, I had the entire back seat to myself, chugging a soda with legs extended.

I was admiring a hawk circling the dusty fields when my grandpa switched on the radio. A shudder passed through my neck–Rush.

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