benandsteve.com

*At Least On That We Can All Agree . How it is made? We will table for another day.”

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026
November 04, 2026

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Good morning, folks.

Everyone gather round and pull up a chair, pour yourself a cup, and let’s give the world a few minutes to settle down. Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, Now they look like they are here to stay. Oh I believe in yesterday.

Suddenly! Folks, the voting is over. The counting and the talking may take a little longer. The talking, I suspect, could outlive several of us.

But this morning, the coffee still expected me to make it.

Otis still has his priorities. Breakfast remains a matter of considerable importance. And somewhere in this house is something I put away so carefully that neither Steve nor I will ever find it again.

There is something reassuring about an ordinary morning.

After weeks of being told everything we ought to fear, resent, or be furious about, I believe we could use one.

I found myself remembering an old eight-track tape my brother used to have. John Wayne was on it, talking over music in that unmistakable voice of his. You didn’t need to see him. You knew who was speaking.

As I remember the story, he comes upon an old man living out in the desert. The sun is beating down, the place looks worn, and life there appears to offer considerably more hardship than comfort.

He asks why the old man doesn’t sell the place and move somewhere easier.

The answer has stayed with me all these years.

Mis Raíces Están Aquí

The old man’s roots were buried there.

When I was younger, I might have thought a moving truck could solve that problem.

These days, I understand him a little better.

A person can look at a place and see dry ground, an old house, and a fence that needs fixing. The person living there might see where his children played. Where somebody he loved planted flowers. Where he worked for years to make a life.

You can put a price on the property. The rest is harder to figure.

I have lived in Arizona for many years now, but there are pieces of Oklahoma that have never loosened their hold on me. Family. Old roads. Horse sales with Dad that lasted long after I thought we ought to have gone home.

Some of those places have changed. Some of the people are gone. Still, I can visit them in my mind without stopping for gas.

Those are roots, too.

And I think about what roots do beneath ground that looks bare. They hold on. With some care, a little rain, and time, they can send up something green again.

Of course, anybody who has worked the land knows you generally have to do more than stand there wishing for a crop.

There is watering to do. Weeds to pull. Something always needs tending.

The same is true around home.

We can call somebody we have been meaning to check on. Ask how they are doing and stay on the telephone long enough to hear the answer. Put something good in the oven. Start deciding who needs a place at the Thanksgiving table.

There are folks facing real worries this morning. I wouldn’t pretend a cup of coffee will settle them. But I can offer a chair and listen for a while.

Soon enough, we will be arguing about how early is too early to put up Christmas lights. Somebody will discover the turkey is still frozen. Steve may have to explain why a perfectly good Christmas decoration needs replacing.

I expect to have questions. But who doesn’t. Have a great day. And don’t worry. If we are lucky, we may have another election someday. Or, maybe we won’t.

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