EVERY Thanksgiving, after the relatives have left and the last shreds of turkey have been made into sandwiches and soup, millions of Americans participate in one last ritual of autumn, one that, despite the common holiday we have just shared, proves what a polarized nation we remain.

We rake leaves.

Or rather, half the nation rakes leaves; the other half blows. As I walked through town recently on a perfect fall day, a day so fine that piles of leaves were stacking up faster than children could jump into them, it struck me that the world can be divided into two types of people: rakers and blowers.

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