Gaylord is a member of the Living Room Conversations advisory board and executive director of HomeAhead.
A friend recently asked, “How do you do it? How do you deal with the vast political differences in your family.”
My family ranges from Trump-voting Republicans to far-left Democrats and most every position in between. How do we coexist? I’d be lying if I said it’s easy ... especially during election years and sensational news events. My politically varied family stays connected, even though the connection is sometimes tenuous, through celebration and tribulation.
When my house almost burned down in the Colorado Marshall fire almost one year ago, all of my family members reached out to offer comfort and support – whatever we needed. When one of my children suffered from a difficult illness, everyone was there, in my corner, offering love and support.
When there is a death, birth, celebration or hardship in the family we come together. We’re not always graceful in our interactions but we try. We have some simple rules about not talking about politics. Sometimes we gingerly cross that line, and sometimes we trample the line. And then we regroup and return to baseline, remembering and prioritizing our connection to one another.
At our core, we are simple beings who want love and belonging. When I am devastated by a loss I don’t care about politics – I want love and comfort. When there is something to celebrate, I want to celebrate with my family. In my world, where the rubber meets the road, there is no place for politics.
It is likely that I’ll never agree with some of my family members’ politics but I will love them and they will love me all the same.
Some of you will call me naive, irresponsible, maybe even “Pollyanna.” I’m okay with that because in my world, love wins – and so do I.
Argue, attack and avoid. What else is there?
My 18-year-old son recently told me about a conversation he had with a couple of college friends. They were discussing Covid-19, mask-wearing, and the politics involved in the pandemic. One friend expressed a very different view than the other two. Once the friend realized it was a 2-on-1 dynamic, he quickly shut down the conversation saying he didn’t want to argue.
My son asked me why it seems we have only a couple of options when disagreements arise, especially political disagreements. Why is it that the prevailing response is to argue and attack, or avoid the conversation altogether?
This launched a terrific conversation between me and my son about other options. Of course, my tenure with Living Room Conversations could not be ignored, as it is my belief that there are much better options. I encouraged my son to approach a second conversation with his friend in an LRC sort of way: with curiosity, kindness, respect and deep listening.
I reminded my son that this particular friendship has been a lifelong one, and that for him to invite his friend into a deeper discussion, the friend would need to feel safe that the friendship would not be jeopardized. I asked my son to consider this seriously, as it can test our ability to remain in friendship with one who espouses opinions that we find objectionable. Of course, the other side of the coin is that by having the conversation, my son could practice and begin to hone the skills to remain in a friendship with someone who sees things very differently.
My son decided to seek out another opportunity to have a second, deeper conversation with his friend. He reported back on his conversation. He found it interesting as he now has a better understanding of his friend’s perspective. More importantly, he exercised a muscle that is horribly atrophied in our conversations, communities and country – that of being civil and friendly in a conversation with someone who has a different perspective. I am proud of my son and I will encourage him to do more of this. It will make him a better-rounded, more intelligent, compassionate person. It will strengthen his friendships. It will allow him to begin to create and live in a world where he can coexist and even flourish, despite differences.
As for the health of the friendships after the risky conversation, they seem right on track. Recently, the three friends enjoyed a day of skiing in the Colorado mountains. Onward and upward, my son!
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.