The first message went out early on Christmas week from Denver: “Merry Christmas, I hope everything is going well.” A message came back from Grand Junction: “We’re all sick.” The next message: “COVID?” The follow up: “No, the doctor says we don’t have a fever.” Then: “Get well!” Next: “I’m in the hospital.” Then: “COVID?” Follow up: “Yes.” Then: “Are you vaxxed?” Back: “No, Allergic.” Next: “I’m hoping for you. Get better.” Then: “My doctor says I’m going to die today.” Final: “I love you.”

In today’s America, how do we read this communication between two long-time friends, one a blue person, the other a red person?

It starts out well. It’s a holiday greeting from one friend to the other. Then we find out that the Grand Junction family is “all sick.” The sickest is Denver’s friend who has multiple health problems.

Of course the follow up question is “COVID?” In the midst of the Delta and Omicron virus onslaughts, that’s the most likely question, isn’t it? A blue person wouldn’t ask “COLD?” Or “FLU?” Or “HEART?”

And then, as the blue person doesn’t expect, the answer returns “NO,” the doctor says the GJ family doesn’t have fever. Ultimately, however, the doctor’s answer is “YES, COVID.”

Then comes the statement the fully vaxxed and boosted blue person expects from GJ: “I’m in the hospital.” This is the cut line where Americans take their blue and red positions.

The blue person wonders how red people won’t vaccinate against a virulent virus that’s taken out more than 800,000 people. Vaxxing is fast and simple. Billions of people around the world would give anything to have three quick shots in the arm.

Red people are willing to accept the risk of catching a virus they believe is closer to a cold-maker than a person-killer. They don’t want government telling them what to do, even though, at this point, the government is begging more than telling. The family from GJ is on the front line of keeping America America.

What was the doctor’s emotion when he or she told the patient: “You’re going to die today.” Was the doctor drained of emotion, in “I told you so” mode, focused on the comfort and well-being of the sick one, and/or helping the patient get to the “goodbyes” in time?

Let’s face it, to non-medical people, “you’re going to die today” is a big statement. That bluntness will take most people aback.

What does the patient feel at that moment? Sick in the stomach? A serious “OOOPs?” “I’m an idiot?” “I’m dying for freedom?” “I’ve made my statement and I’m sticking to it!”

What does the friend feel about the doctor’s message: “Serves you right! You were an idiot! I told you so! I was worried it would turn out this way! I’m so sorry!”

When a doctor says “You’re going to die today,” is that the time to set aside skepticism, sarcasm, disbelief, cynicism, incredulity, mockery, scorn and disdain? Is it possible to reach across the divide in that last, final moment, and mean it? And if we can reach across the divide then, is it possible to slowly back away from the divide and arrive at some common ground sooner?

If it isn’t possible, what does that say about us? Are we doomed to endless mutual ridicule that turns into taunts into punches into gunfire? Are we going to allow little innocuous things, such as “Happy Holidays” vs. “Merry Christmas,” feed anger? Has it become impossible to accept provocative books and videos on library shelves and let children and their parents decide what to read or not to read, watch or not watch? Is every subject in school now a political contest? Has our collective adrenaline become so urgent that we can’t live and let live anymore?

It’s not too late to tell a person you don’t agree with “I love you” when the diagnosis of immediate death comes in. But it’s almost too late. Are we as a nation about to cross over to “too late?” Isn’t 2022 the time to put our dukes down?

Paula Noonan owns Colorado Capitol Watch, the state’s premier legislature tracking platform.