Unless/until they make Election Day a holiday, or move it to
the weekend, or otherwise do something sensible, I’d like to declare the First
Wednesday after the First Tuesday after the First Monday in November of
Election Years a National Day of Reflection.
In each election there is one winner and some losers,
usually. Whichever side one finds
oneself on, it is a good idea to take a look at what just happened and ponder
the great “why” of it all.
A few days ago such an election occurred, with an
astonishing outcome. Astonishing to some, anyway. After which many were plunged
into surprising and involuntary Days of Reflection. Some even proceeded to
reflect without the aid of The Pundits.
Several got Really Angry, and Signed Petitions, and some even Went to
Rallys to protest The Unthinkable.
Well, upon reflection, it was quite thinkable. It took a
couple of days to get here, but here’s a bit of perspective that Smug the
Pundit overlooked in the runup.
It comes down to respect, really. The folks whose lives and livelihoods were
passed by in the 21st Century seem to be adrift, and apparently have had enough
disrespect to vote about it.
The towns I drive through (when there isn’t an Interstate on
the way to where we’re going) have a forlorn shabbiness to them that seems to
be an indication of resignation, not neglect. I wonder what used to get made
there, what it was that generated the money that paid for these modest and
sturdy houses. Sometimes there’s a mill
building on the river, occasionally converted to cool boutique/studio/restaurant
spaces that will never provide enough reasonably well paying jobs to support the
folks who in earlier generations would have worked in the mill. This is not
news.
At the end of my Days of Reflection, I remembered a song
that hits our time fairly accurately, even though it was released 25 years ago.
People aren't saints
No people just are
They want to feel like they count
They want to ride in their own car
As deplorable as some positions held by some people might
be, it doesn’t help one’s cause to use the word as a label, no matter how apt
it might be or how it makes one’s smug self feel superior. Sometimes,
apparently, it pushes people away.
Then, to reinforce the prescience, its chorus goes like this:
Buy low sell high
You get rich and you still die
Money talks and people jump
Ask how high low-life Donald what's-his-name
And who cares
I don't want to know what his girlfriend doesn't wear
It's a shame that the people at work
want to hear about this kind of jerk
I don’t really know where I’m going to go with this, other
than to connect it to a comment I received on a Facebook post about the
#SafetyPin promise. (Which is the real
catalyst for this essay.)
- If you wear a hijab, I'll sit with you on the train.
- If you're trans, I'll go to the bathroom with you.
- If you're a person of color, I'll stand with you if the cops stop you.
- If you're a person with disabilities, I'll hand you my megaphone.
- If you're an immigrant, I'll help you find resources.
- If you're a survivor, I'll believe you.
- If you're a refugee, I'll make sure you're welcome.
- If you're a veteran, I'll take up your fight.
- If you're a LGBTQ, I won't let anybody tell you you're broken.
- If you're a woman, I'll make sure you get home ok.
- If you're tired, me too.
- If you need a hug, I've got an infinite supply.
- If you need me, I'll be with you. All I ask is that you be with me, too.
