How easy it is to sway the mindset of a MAGA or someone with no inclination to think.

Cast of characters: my sister, my cousin, my aunt, my aunt's ex-husband.

Narrative: (This happened in 2003.) I'm very close to a cousin, Frank. He was estranged from his father since his parents' divorce, but always hoped for reconciliation. One day, Frank asked if I would speak with his father, who had a legal matter. I had no relationship or contact with Uncle Jay whatsoever, but I agreed to speak with him on the phone. And we connected very well. We ended up with a very strong relationship whereby one of us would call the other on a Monday evening and excitedly discuss (what we thought) the end of democracy for at least one hour. (Ah, the good ole days with Shrub, Cheney, Newt, Hastert, Tom DeLay, etc.) I was in my mid-40s and he was turning 80. One night, Uncle Jay solemnly told me that his doctor told him he had less than six months to live. I cried and he yelled at me for being overly sentimental. And he died. I drove from NJ to IN just to attend his memorial. Of course, I told nobody in my family (save for Frank) as Uncle Jay was considered a heel by accounts told by my aunt. 12 hours each way.

Frank's brother (my other cousin, Colby) also was in attendance. He actually was nice to me as I sent one last e-mail to Uncle Jay, not expecting an answer. He was responsive and appreciated my grief. I still have his e-mail after the service where he told me how much he appreciated my coming to his father's memorial. (Put a pin in that.)

Fast Forward: 2003. Our mother was dying and it made the family particularly more dysfunctional. Her sister, Uncle Jay's ex, was arriving before the inevitable death. What I didn't expect was this: Our aunt told my sister two things that were wholly false: 1) That she came home from work when I was visiting her and found me rummaging through her underwear drawer, looking for money, and 2) Her son/Cousin Colby was disgusted by my appearance at her ex-husband's memorial.

And the point of this post: My sister believed her. No ambivalence. Believed her before she spoke to me. And my sister came to me with these accusations, almost hoping they were true, or at the least, to witness a bad performance at lying. Now, I could have just denied it, walked away without responding, yelled at her, etc. But I didn't. At this point, my head was swirling with a cocktail of the impending death of our mother, PTSD of the death of Uncle Jay, the betrayal of my sister. I cut my sister off short: I found and printed the afore-referenced e-mail from Colby thanking me for coming to his father's memorial. Hardly any disgust to be implied. I simply gave the print-out to my sister and told her that either I was right or our aunt was right, couldn't be both.

To my surprise, my sister accepted the e-mail and decided I was right. And was she mad at our aunt for telling her this BS. Not that I wanted to win . . . . I just wanted some peace while I sat alone with our mother, waiting for her to pass.

Epilogue: My sister is back with our aunt, conveniently forgetting what transpired right before our mother died. And I've divorced myself from both my sister and my aunt. Our aunt is in her 90s, more or less forsaken. Cousin Frank and I have a pact to let each other know when she's gone. Cold? Maybe.

Final point about my sister: In 2016, she told me that she was voting for Hillary; she didn't trust Trump. Six months later, she told me that she was voting for Trump; she didn't trust Hillary. What changed? A male friend gave her frequent and long soliloquies about Trump and my sister adopted his positions without understanding anything.

I'd call my sister a passive MAGA -- doesn't know and doesn't care about Trump. Just wants to be part of the club.