Opinion: President Donald Trump came to Kansas and enraptured an audience with bunkum. I fear for us.

Fans cheer as President Donald Trump takes the stage at an Oct. 19, 2026, rally at the Heartland Credit Union Arena in Park City, Kansas. (Photo by Sherman Smith/Kansas Reflector)

With midwestern naivete, I thought I could attend the rally in Park City on Oct. 19, hear President Donald Trump speak and determine for myself the validity of the “news.”

Was Trump a doddering, senile shell? Was his MAGA base cheering barely controlled bloodhounds on the hunt for immigrants? Were the radical left lunatics bent upon disrupting a sitting president?

First, I didn’t get in, due to the aforementioned naivete. I thought I could just download my ticket, follow the timeline, stroll into the Heartland Credit Union Arena a couple of hours before Trump spoke, chat with the attendees and have the answers. I did not plan on people camping out at the site the night before, or the devotion of those willing to arrive many hours early.

However, the trip and the parking lot provided ample food for thought.

Blue skies and dramatic clouds filled the landscape through the Flint Hills during the two-hour drive to Wichita. On my flawed timeline, I believed I had plenty of time to try one of the barbecue restaurants involved in a hot Facebook debate.

Station 8 was closed, so I settled on Bite Me BBQ, located in Wichita’s Old Town. Walking in, the aroma of decades of woodsmoke seeped from the walls. Promising. A chalkboard offered the Monday special: all the fish tacos one could eat. Not so promising.

My brisket dinner convinced me that, yes, America is great and it is immaterial whether Republicans or Democrats or immigrants or billionaires or unions or the Supreme Court is responsible. Food had already entered our political debate this fall with the U.S. Senate race in Texas veering off into who is a vegetarian or vegan. In Kansas, Adam Hamilton was accused of preaching against beef consumption.

No one from either party could caucus against that brisket.

Bite Me was about half full this Monday. Workmen in safety vests dined and joked about their jobs. Reluctant to leave, I decided to question the young customer service manager who stopped at our table.

Business was pretty good, she said, but they were watching expenses. On a personal level, she felt her life was going well. Her husband had made smart decisions years ago. He had bought a small house when he was only 21 and it was almost paid off, she explained. They plan to parley their equity into a larger place as their family grows.

Midwestern manners precluded me from asking how she would vote in the midterm, but she noted she may not cast a ballot at all due her son’s needs and her work schedule.

By 2 p.m. I headed toward Park City, four hours before the scheduled time. Turning into the facility, there was a line of cars but it only took 10 minutes to arrive at the designated casino parking lot. Inching along in the line, a steady stream of attendees walked along a sidewalk toward the venue

Surprisingly, I saw only two red hats. Many did wear red Kansas City Chiefs shirts. Red is red. The was calm, orderly and focused on reaching the arena.

My parked car faced a line of standing people waiting for the shuttle busses. Sitting in the car, sun-basked and drowsy, the prospect of standing for hours lost appeal. The line did not move, although small groups sometimes leave the line and return to their cars.

One refugee told me the arena was full. They wouldn’t let any more people in, but I could stand outside and watch the rally on a screen,

A man parked beside me rolled down his window and said: “It’s not worth it. Download the Rumble app and watch live.” I did.

What I saw was enlightening and disturbing. Wholesome-looking families cheered and waved flags as the president of the United States rambled and lied. He called Derek Schmidt “Eric” and people cheered.

Protesters heckled, and the devout crowd tried to drown them out, chanting “USA.”

Trump said, of the hecklers: “I can tell by the voice they get paid.”

People cheered. He used the word hate frequently. People cheered.

I don’t know much about business, but I was jarred by Trump’s explanation of Roger Marshall’s reasons for suing his patients for back payments. Trump claimed it was the law. I asked my physician friends if this was a law. They laughed and simply said no.

And I cannot even bring myself to discuss his claims that public schools transition children to different sexes without parental knowledge. As I watched the cheering, red-clad crowd, all I could think was: What is wrong with these people?

What made the “it’s the law” segment so much more terrifying rested in the delivery. Trump spoke sincerely, forcefully, eloquently, with conviction. Had I not known the words were false, I would have believed.

My mind abruptly shifted to a the public radio show “Car Talk,” featuring “Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers.” Hosts Tom and Ray Magliozzi would respond to particularly stupid ideas with laughter and the refrain: “Unencumbered by the thought process.” They saying was funny when all that hung in the balance was a 1974 Dodge Dart’s transmission, but less so when when one values morals, freedom and democracy.

I quit watching. I left the parking lot, heading to get coffee. Questions raced through my mind. What was happening to our democracy? Free press? Ethics? The truth?

What to do? I closed my eyes for a moment and could see the sea of red. How could they not see?

I thought of Little Red Riding Hood, dressed in red and questioning the identity and motives of that terrible wolf. According to the spreading power of AI, the tale is about 2,000 years old, so the problem of identifying evil is not new. Little Red Riding Hood’s fate has changed over the centuries. Sometimes she dies, sometimes she is rescued.

What will our fate be?

Marsha Hayes is a retired rural mail carrier, retired community college English teacher and award-winning equine journalist. Through its opinion section, the Kansas Reflector works to amplify the voices of people who are affected by public policies or excluded from public debate. Find information, including how to submit your own commentary, here.