11/9/16

Living in the bubble Part IV

So, last night happened. Or as my cousin Michael says, 9/11 has been followed by 11/9. Lots to unpack here as the Trump Train plowed over Democratic expectations, but two thoughts this morning that I’d like to pass on.

First, it’s classical psychology to talk about the stages of grief:

I’ve got them oddly mixed up today:  Denial and isolation last evening, depression and acceptance during a long, sleepless night, and now anger.  Acceptance because we’re a democracy. That’s how it functions. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. You pull up your panties and move on.

Ah, but anger.  Yep, anger.  I’m pissed.  I understand, in some way, how some folks felt when the rest of us elected a black man who offered hope.  Lots of folks in the country couldn’t figure out how that happened or how that hope related to them.  Their explanation was massive voter fraud, and a whole new era of more overt racism and white supremacy began. I don’t see any of the Democratic leaders saying anything like that.  What we Dems have to think about is that there are lots of Americans who felt their voices weren’t being heard and elected a man they think will work for them.  I wish them the best. Next time maybe we can offer something better.

Me?  Now, more than ever, I’m politically galvanized. I’m pumped.  I worked hard on this election in Nevada.  Because of thousands of people like me, we sent our electoral votes to Clinton and elected a Democratic woman to the Senate (the FIRST Latina Senator!). Of our four House seats, three will be Democrats.  Yesterday it was only one. And we took back both the Nevada state Senate and Assembly. We can do this.  Because this is also how a democracy works.

Second is an old vaudeville joke:  A priest, a rabbi and a minister were stranded on a desert island that was rapidly becoming covered by the incoming tide. The priest sank to his knees and prayed to the Virgin Mary to intercede with god. The minister clasped his hands together, looked towards heaven, and vowed to change his ways. When they were done, they turned to stare at their Jewish brother who was sitting in the water, concentrating on each new wave.

“What are you doing?” they asked.  “Learning how to breathe underwater,” he replied. 

Time to grow gills.