America can soar, but only if we do it together

In the fall of 2000, as a college freshman, my friend Trebor extended an invitation to me that seemed preposterous at the time: Regardless of who won the presidential election, we should attend the inauguration together.

Sure, it was an intriguing idea — especially if Gov. George W. Bush were to win. After all, I was a lifelong Republican from Pennsylvania. My mother had once worked for the Pennsylvania Senate’s pro tempore, Robert Jubelirer. My father had served as a Republican borough councilman in Huntingdon. Growing up, I attended GOP corn soup rallies and Lincoln Day dinners in Franklin County. During high school in Chambersburg, I even volunteered on a campaign for a state representative candidate.

Was I really prepared to travel to Washington, D.C., to celebrate a victory for Vice President Al Gore? And could I do so with Trebor — a proud, outspoken Democrat from Louisiana and the first openly homosexual person I had ever known well?

After some thought, I agreed. But the weeks that followed tested both of us when the election of 2000 descended into chaos. From our college campus in Daytona Beach, we had a front-row seat to the 36 days of contentious recounts, hanging chads, and court battles that ultimately awarded Florida — and the presidency — to Bush by 537 votes.

I couldn’t have been happier with the outcome. Trebor, and half the nation, vehemently disagreed. Yet, a month later, under cold and drizzly skies, he stood next to me in D.C., watching Gov. Bush become President Bush.

Trebor wasn’t just fulfilling a promise he could have easily broken. He was fully present — engaged, smiling even. He understood that the story of America is bigger than any one person. Ensuring the continuance of our grand experiment in self-governance meant showing up, even when it was hard.

In the years that followed, Trebor and I lost touch. That is, except for every subsequent presidential Inauguration Day. Every four years, without fail, a text or a call would come, and we’d reminisce about our trip to D.C., and wonder how many others were bridging their differences to make similar journeys. Those conversations renewed my hope in America’s promise and reminded me that our nation can withstand the strain of tough elections.

But this year, no call will come. Trebor died in 2022. And yet, in this turbulent moment, America needs his example more than ever. As residents of the ultimate swing state — a place where Democrats hold a one-seat majority in our General Assembly and our U.S. Senate race was decided by around 16,000 votes — Pennsylvanians can lead the way.

In far too many corners of America, we’ve settled into silos, losing the desire to engage with those whose opinions differ from ours. Heated rhetoric demonizes our fellow Americans as fascists, dangers to democracy, or enemies of the state. Many leaders even encourage the dismantling of the very institutions and norms that protect us, from the Senate filibuster to the U.S. Supreme Court itself — all in the name of expediency. But expediency comes at a cost — not just for America but for us as individuals and neighbors.

As an airline captain, I can tell you that an airplane with only a left wing or a right wing will spiral out of control. But when those wings push against each other, the craft finds its balance and can soar to great heights across vast distances.

America can soar, too — if we’re truly willing to fly together.

This doesn’t mean we have to agree, let alone abandon our principles. Nor does it mean our systems are beyond reform. But it does mean we must respect our democratic processes, engage in good faith, and trust that our institutions are strong enough to withstand the friction of competing ideas.

The first step? Show up together.

Trebor did. He understood that unity doesn’t mean erasing our differences; it means accepting that our shared commitment to America’s ideals is greater than any one election.

Imagine what we could achieve in Pennsylvania — and across the country — if millions of us were to follow his lead.

Korry Franke is a Boeing 737 captain for a major U.S. airline, a consensus-building GOP committeeperson in Northampton County, and the author of “3 Feet to the Left: A New Captain’s Journey from Pursuit to Perspective.”