When I was very young—maybe six?—I went with my dad to help remodel our church. Or maybe I was with my mom who was doing something at church while the remodel was happening, I don’t remember, but for an hour or so I wandered around unsupervised pestering dudes drywalling and painting future Sunday school classrooms.

The new classrooms were in the basement, and I remember walking into the damp new room, concrete floored with a sliver of window set up high on the classroom wall, which if you were looking in from the outside was barely above the ground. Such is the way of basements.

A guy named Bob was mudding drywall. At first, I just sat in the room watching. He was an odd, quiet man, but he’d always been kind and patient with me. He had those glasses that automatically get dark in the sun, and I remember that the light streaming in from the high-up window turned his glasses half-dark.

At the time, my parents were really into selling Shaklee. I began explaining to Bob, as I had heard my mother and father do countless times, the merits of Shaklee’s cleaning solution. “You can wash anything with Basic H but there’s no poisony stuff in it,” I said. “You could drink it! I mean, you shouldn’t but you could.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Bob, slathering white putty where two pieces of sheetrock came together. “I use Amway L.O.C.”

“But Shaklee is better.” I felt he wasn’t getting it. “Shaklee is just more right.” In my mind, I could see the transparent container of blue-ish concentrated Basic H sitting in its familiar shelf in our laundry room, and I knew that my mom relied on it like a bottle of miracles to keep our house clean and germ-free. To keep me safe. “Why don’t you just try Basic H?”

“Don’t need to,” said Bob, concentrating on the wall. “I like what I got.”

“How do you know Shaklee isn’t better?” I persisted, my voice getting louder.

“My brother’s wife sells it to me,” said Bob, his back to me. “And she says it’s the best stuff goin’.”

“No!” I was starting to tremble a little. “You can’t know it’s best if you don’t know anything about Shaklee.”

Bob still hadn’t turned around. Blotches of sweat darkened the back of his brown cotton western shirt. My dad wore flannel shirts. “Maybe you ought to try Amway,” he said, using my own logic against me.

How could I know what things were best if I hadn’t tried them all? The question rolled around in my head while I silently watched Bob work. The way he smoothed the mud onto the wall and scraped away the excess reminded me of my mom frosting a cake. My mom, the one who cared for my every need. The smartest person I knew. Each morning she gave me my Shaklee vitamin C with my breakfast to keep me from getting sick.

Imagining the brown glass bottle filled me with a sense of safety and well-being. Mom would never steer me wrong. How could I ever doubt her? I felt reinvigorated. “My mom loves Shaklee!”

Bob stepped away from the wall and wiped a hanky across the side of his sweaty face. “She does, does she?” He swiveled his big darkened lenses toward me; I couldn’t see through them to his eyes. “Amway is the American Way.” he said softly. “It’s Christian.”

“Shaklee is for Christians, too,” I argued, heart beating rapidly as my throat tightened. “It’s for everybody!” Tears began to well, against my will, and all I could think about was how I was letting my mom down. “It’s really good,” I whispered.

“Why don’t you go find your mom,” said Bob gently.

I remember leaving, but that’s where the memory fades out. This particular incident sticks with me because I couldn’t understand at the time why I felt so shaken. Why had I gotten so angry?

Both Amway and Shaklee are multi-level marketing companies founded in the 1950s that sell things like vitamins and detergents. Many would say they’re barely above pyramid schemes, and both have had run-ins with the FTC.

Why would a child feel so loyal to a company? Why would I have felt so attacked when Bob voiced his loyalty to Amway?

Because nothing about the conversation was truly about either brand. We didn’t explore the quality of the products or company business practices. Our arguments weren’t rich in facts or even customer feedback, just a bit of personal anecdote and some loose references to God and country.

So what was the conversation with Bob about?

Loyalty. Identity. Belonging. Shaklee was our brand. My family’s brand.

This is where I feel we are as Americans in our political discourse. We aren’t talking about governing outcomes or public policies or how we get to where we want to go as a country. We aren’t talking about how modern democracy is working or not working for us. What will our country look like in ten years? Will our kids have a safe place to live, good jobs, and time to spend with their families? Will the US remain competitive in the global marketplace?

Instead, we’re spreading memes and trash talking on Facebook. We’re asking our friends and family if they are for us or against us.

Rather than reading content from reputable sources across the political spectrum, many people are sharing articles they haven’t even read but with headlines that fit their brand. Rather than having thoughtful, informed, and respectful conversations, they throw out the latest line from their favorite news channel to see whether you’ll agree or if you need to be reminded which side is God’s side.

Are you loyal to Shaklee or Amway? Maybe that’s not the question we should be asking.