It begins at the dinner table.

It often begins at the dinner table, in our living rooms, and among the people we love most. Too many families and friendships have been strained or even broken by the inability to sit with disagreement. A simple difference of opinion can now spark silence, shouting, or separation. Instead of hearing one another out, we retreat into corners, convinced that being “right” matters more than being together. When we treat loved ones as opponents, we rob ourselves of the richness that only comes when different perspectives collide with patience and respect.

From there, it spills into our communities. Neighbors who once shared cookouts, helped move furniture, or looked after each other’s kids now size one another up by bumper stickers and yard signs. Conversation has been replaced with caricature, and trust with suspicion. We’ve forgotten the value of wrestling through uncomfortable dialogue, of admitting when we might be wrong, or of pressing forward in disagreement without tearing down the person across the table. If we can’t manage that in our own towns, how can we hope to mend the fractures in our nation?

The recent assassination of Charlie Kirk stands as a chilling reminder of just how divided we’ve become. Whether you agreed with his message or not, he was still a human being—someone’s son, someone’s friend, someone who believed enough in dialogue to step on a stage and speak. His death didn’t lead to reflection but to a fresh cycle of anger, political maneuvering, and more division. We’ve turned tragedy into fuel for the fire. That should alarm us all, because the problem isn’t only in Washington or within “the other side”—it’s in us, in our refusal to have the hard but necessary conversations. And let’s be honest: no politician is going to fix that for us. A divided people are far easier to control.

But there’s hope if we start where it matters most. Healing doesn’t come from Capitol Hill; it comes from kitchen tables, from long walks with friends, from brave talks over coffee. It begins when we ask questions instead of lobbing accusations, when we pause before posting, when we choose to engage instead of withdraw. Each small act of humility and courage creates a chain of conversations that grow outward—first into neighborhoods, then communities, and eventually across the country. Only then do we rediscover what binds us together is greater than what pulls us apart. That is how growth—personal, communal, national—takes root again.

Stay Suddys My Friends

Sugga