During the fall of 2016 my brother Willy and I took a road trip, driving from Portland, Oregon, about three hours east. Our destination was Union for the annual Eastern Oregon Livestock Show. It's the kind of America you see in 50s movies, filled with, 4-H kids and Future Farmers of America, assembled in their blue corduroy jackets with the brilliant yellow patches on the back. They raise their hogs and sheep all year, and if they're lucky they win a ribbon. Then they auction them off to the highest bidder, sometimes a mom, dad or uncle, sometimes a stranger. There are horse races, a rodeo, a carnival with rides, and a parade, where the Veterans of Foreign Wars, church groups, fire trucks and the local propane company throw candy from flatbed trucks and out of car windows, while fiending kids scramble around the street to pick it up, stuffing their pockets and mouths with their hard earned bounty.
It's peaceful and wholesome and 100% homogeneous. Racism is not evident Union, but there is only one race. It's white. I felt like I was undercover - white male who is pro-Black, pro-Brown, pro-Gay, pro-Trans, values I can only suspect aren't shared by the general population in this part of the country. The only hint was a slogan on the Mormon parade float - "Rule #1: be American."
That said, it was an incredible place to take pictures, and people were welcoming and generous. And I was with Willy which was the best part of all.