Petrified Opinions Poem by Robert Winthrop

When I was growing up, I had a lot of friends who were
Of opposite religions, and politics, for sure.
We'd often kid and tell bad jokes about the others' plan;
I favored FDR and Thomas Dewey was their man.
And though we disagreed and boasted when our man did well,
We still were friends, found common ground, and did not
often dwell
On how we differed on such things, but how we loved this land,
But now it seems these different views have gotten out of hand.
Old friends don't speak because their views on guns and God and hate
Have hardened into marble with no room for free debate.
The lies and jokes are venom filled, the battle lines are drawn,
And what once were our friendships have become the devil's pawn.
I realize that I've been wrong and much too quick to judge
So I must try to be more fair as through this life I trudge.
When I stand firm, I know that I must get it through my brain
The words of fellow townsman, the venerable Mark Twain:
'Loyalty to a petrified opinion never broke a chain nor freed a human soul.'