Lobsterman John Drouin is still working. Still hauling traps near the border, still hoping Canada doesn’t slam the door shut. He voted for Trump once. Not again.
“I’m not thrilled,” he said. “I get the message part. But not the execution.”
It’s a sentiment spreading across the region. The policies are too loud. The effects too quiet. But if you listen closely—in the clatter of empty shelves, the silence of canceled trips, the whispers of contracts not renewed—you’ll hear the truth.
These tariffs aren’t just numbers. They’re names. And they live here. In the farmlands and fisheries, the car lots and kitchens, the canneries and cabins of two small states with a big stake in being left alone to thrive.
Not punished to make a point. Not sacrificed for optics.
Just left to do what they’ve always done: work hard, live local, and feed the country one boat, one barn, one bottle at a time.
“We’re not looking for favors. We’re asking to stop being targeted.”
That’s not politics.
That’s survival.