The Slow Drift That’s Wearing America Down

As I get older, I’ve learned to step back and watch the way this country moves—not the loud headlines, not the political fights, but the steady drip of change that happens over decades. And what I see right now in America isn’t some big revolution or dramatic takeover. It’s quieter than that. It’s almost invisible if you’re not paying attention. But it’s there, drip-drip-drip… the slow erosion of the middle ground.

I’m not talking about left or right. I’m talking about the space between them—the space where most people actually live. The space where common sense used to be. That space is shrinking, and no one seems to notice because we’re all busy arguing with ghosts on social media.

You know, when I was younger, politics wasn’t a performance. People disagreed, sure, but there was still this feeling that we were all on the same road, just choosing different lanes. Somewhere along the line—honestly, I couldn’t tell you the exact year—we left that road and started building two entirely separate highways, going in opposite directions. And God help you if you try to merge from one to the other.

This didn’t happen overnight. The country slowly drifted. Markets took priority over communities. Individual success became more important than shared responsibility. Suddenly, programs that used to be seen as investments were treated as burdens. And little by little, what counted as “normal” or “moderate” shifted. Positions that were once fringe somehow became mainstream, just because the middle moved out from under them.

Then came the era of performance politics. The cable shows. The podcasts. The “rage for ratings.” The constant outrage machine online. It’s like everyone discovered that anger sells, and boy, does it sell.

I’m convinced half the country is tired, not because they’re old, but because they’re exhausted from being pulled in every direction. And the sad part? Most people don’t even know what they’re angry about anymore. They just know they’re supposed to be.

And social media? That was the accelerant on the fire. I’ve never seen anything change a nation faster. A meme gets more traction than a policy paper. A ten-second clip of someone yelling gets more coverage than actual legislation. You don’t even have to be informed to be influential anymore—you just have to be loud.

We learned that during COVID. Good grief, if you want to see how fragile shared truth is, just look back at those years. Facts became optional. Public health turned into a political badge. People weren’t just divided on what to do, they were divided on what was real. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve never seen anything like it.

And once perception overtakes reality, the door opens wide for prejudice, fear, and division. That’s the part that worries me the most. This steady erosion of the center has made normal people feel politically homeless. It’s created a vacuum where cynicism grows like weeds. Everything feels like a performance now, not a conversation. Everyone’s auditioning for their own little online show.

But here’s the thing—this country still has more thoughtful people than extreme ones. They’re just quieter. They’re the ones who still believe in fairness but also in responsibility. They care about their communities but also about their freedoms. They believe in helping others but don’t want government doing everything for everybody. They’re balanced. They’re reasonable. And they’re getting drowned out by the loudest 10%.

I’ve always said common sense is the real endangered species in America.

We don’t need to go back to the old days, but we do need to remember something we’ve lost: the value of the middle ground. Not as a compromise, but as a conviction. A belief that you can listen without surrendering, disagree without demonizing, and admit complexity without feeling weak. That used to be normal.

And maybe it can be again.

Maybe we just need more people willing to step out of the noise and say, “Enough. I want solutions, not slogans. I want conversation, not combat. I want truth, not trend.”

I’m old enough to remember a time when people didn’t spend their day rehearsing political lines for strangers on the internet. When politics didn’t seep into every corner of life. When the media didn’t need to shock you to get your attention. When outrage wasn’t the national sport. When neighbors talked, even when they didn’t agree.

The foundation is still there, but it’s worn. That drip of erosion has been working on it for decades. But worn doesn’t mean gone. Worn just means it needs reinforcement.

That reinforcement is the middle—the real middle, not the watered-down version that gets mocked by both sides. The middle where people actually listen. The middle where common sense still lives. The middle where we remember that this country was never supposed to run on fear and division.

I truly believe we can rebuild that.
But it has to start with quiet voices getting just a little louder.
Not angry. Not hostile.
Just steady.
Just sensible.
Just honest.

If we don’t reclaim that space, then the loudest fringes will keep defining who we are. And that’s not who America really is. America is the people in the middle—the ones who work, raise their families, pay their taxes, help their neighbors, chase their dreams, and want a decent life without all the noise.