When I was five years old, there was a cold morning in November when school was cancelled. I sat in my parents' living room, curled up in a laundry basket, and watched our grainy, black and white television as the country I was born in buried its President. I remember seeing his flag-draped coffin loaded onto a caisson pulled by beautiful white horses. Behind the wagon, a soldier led a riderless, caparisoned horse named "Black Jack", with empty boots reversed in the stirrups.
I don't know what I was thinking that day. It has long since been colored by my subsequent life experiences. I know I was sad, even heart-broken. Maybe I was frightened. The adults around me surely were and I must have noticed their fear. I do know that it was the first truly dark day of my life, the genesis of my awareness of the larger world around me.
There have been a number of other dark days in my life since then, both personal and political. I've survived the death of friends and family members, a husband, and a father. I've suffered the loss of jobs, cars, homes, and elections. I woke up to a world forever changed by the actions of a handful of men who sought to strike terror in the hearts of my countrymen by driving fuel-laden aircraft into the symbols of our freedom.
Today is not that day in 1963. It is not that terrible day in 2001. The American people have spoken. It might reasonably be argued that what they said was, "Derp!", but they have spoken nevertheless. And I, for one, am listening. Like it or not, there is a significant portion of my countrymen and women who have embraced the politics of fear and blame, and who truly believe the way forward is to tear a new hole in the fabric of our society to see what emerges.
I do not agree with them. I cannot agree with them. But, I have to accept their will, because to do otherwise is to give in to the fear and blame that I voted against. It is to believe that our forefathers were wrong, and that our system of governance cannot stand.
Right now, half of the country is either rejoicing or, at the very least, feeling cautious optimism. I will let them have their moment in the sun. The other half is terrified, angry, or in despair. They need their chance to grieve.
There is a theory in the recovery community that a person can't achieve lasting personal change until they've lost everything they value most. That may be true, and we may see this theory played out in the coming days. Make no mistake, there will be consequences for the actions we have taken, or failed to take, during this election. Some people will suffer. Some people will even die. And some will learn, perhaps the hard way. Some will grow stronger and more determined. They will rise up to meet the challenges of the new day.
I intend to be one of the people who will learn. I will grow. I will grow wiser, and stronger, and more resilient. I will lend my hand to the most vulnerable members of our country and do my utmost to protect them from the winds that now blow. I will listen, not just to those who agree with me, but also to those who don't. I may not ever agree with them, but I won't try to silence them.
Most of all, I will not give up. Not now, not tomorrow, not next year or in all the years I have left. I will continue to speak my truth with my very last breath. It's not over yet. Throw something, break something if you must, cry, and rail against fortune until you are spent. Then wash your face, roll up your sleeves, and stand up for what you believe in. Never give up. Never, ever give up.
I don't know what I was thinking that day. It has long since been colored by my subsequent life experiences. I know I was sad, even heart-broken. Maybe I was frightened. The adults around me surely were and I must have noticed their fear. I do know that it was the first truly dark day of my life, the genesis of my awareness of the larger world around me.
There have been a number of other dark days in my life since then, both personal and political. I've survived the death of friends and family members, a husband, and a father. I've suffered the loss of jobs, cars, homes, and elections. I woke up to a world forever changed by the actions of a handful of men who sought to strike terror in the hearts of my countrymen by driving fuel-laden aircraft into the symbols of our freedom.
Today is not that day in 1963. It is not that terrible day in 2001. The American people have spoken. It might reasonably be argued that what they said was, "Derp!", but they have spoken nevertheless. And I, for one, am listening. Like it or not, there is a significant portion of my countrymen and women who have embraced the politics of fear and blame, and who truly believe the way forward is to tear a new hole in the fabric of our society to see what emerges.
I do not agree with them. I cannot agree with them. But, I have to accept their will, because to do otherwise is to give in to the fear and blame that I voted against. It is to believe that our forefathers were wrong, and that our system of governance cannot stand.
Right now, half of the country is either rejoicing or, at the very least, feeling cautious optimism. I will let them have their moment in the sun. The other half is terrified, angry, or in despair. They need their chance to grieve.
There is a theory in the recovery community that a person can't achieve lasting personal change until they've lost everything they value most. That may be true, and we may see this theory played out in the coming days. Make no mistake, there will be consequences for the actions we have taken, or failed to take, during this election. Some people will suffer. Some people will even die. And some will learn, perhaps the hard way. Some will grow stronger and more determined. They will rise up to meet the challenges of the new day.
I intend to be one of the people who will learn. I will grow. I will grow wiser, and stronger, and more resilient. I will lend my hand to the most vulnerable members of our country and do my utmost to protect them from the winds that now blow. I will listen, not just to those who agree with me, but also to those who don't. I may not ever agree with them, but I won't try to silence them.
Most of all, I will not give up. Not now, not tomorrow, not next year or in all the years I have left. I will continue to speak my truth with my very last breath. It's not over yet. Throw something, break something if you must, cry, and rail against fortune until you are spent. Then wash your face, roll up your sleeves, and stand up for what you believe in. Never give up. Never, ever give up.
