The heart is having its day. There will be no snarky humor in addressing the tragedy of Nov. 8, 2016.
The heart does this knowing it will be music to the ears of the mob who finally watched Hillary publicly fall on that awful day, the hopes of silly people like me churned to dust in all that colorless, choppy wake. Lock her up!
Finally the bully has knocked all the weak, pathetic feelings out of the liberal loser. Finally, they can hoot, and mostly holler. They can dance and stomp on my grave. So, yes, this is me and my heart, essentially crying “uncle” as the bully, knee in back, twists and turns the arm to the point of breaking, and screams, “That was NOT an awful day, you loser. It was a great day. Now say it — SAY IT WAS A GREAT DAY!!!”
About that day …
I admit to having a feeling of dread as I went to the polls on that chalky, fall morning. I can’t say why, exactly. Maybe it was knowing that when the sun turned and buried itself in the Pacific there was a slim chance we would find out something truly awful about our country. Maybe the dread I felt was some sort of cosmic response to the orange-hot release of rage in Trump Country as levers were yanked down and hard (with vigor!) for their hero.
I don’t know … But I’ve thought about that feeling a lot as the sun has gone up and down 42 times since The Awful Day …
Long after the sun had gone away and began to threaten its return the day next, Nov. 9, I sat in the quiet of my house. It’s eerie how still things can be at 4 a.m., no matter where you are in this beautiful world. Feelings will come over you. Things you knew were always out there will find you and talk to you in that darkness.
Somehow, America, which could threaten greatness and carry so many on its wings, had in fact done the most awful thing. Somehow America decided this was the day it would show the rest of the world just how sick it had become. So in the darkness, America found me and yelled at me in defense:. “Look, citizen, there have been warnings! Have you not watched this campaign of darkness and hate these past many months??? Do-not-pretend you didn’t see or hear them! They are many. They are angry. Do not think for a minute that had the outcome been different, this hate and illness would have abated. Shame on you!”
So when the silent lashing had become too much for my soul to bear, I stumbled to bed to lay beside my wife. She had somehow managed sleep. Flat on my back I looked up in the darkness. Tears rolled into my pillow. The wife, awakened by all the hurt in the room, grabbed my hand. We silently, desperately searched for answers. Why? How? She so sweet. So hurt.
I finally said to the darkness and my sweet wife (and understand, I type this begging you get my caution and attempt at introspection, because after all, what does a white man in this country really know?): “For the first time in my life I think I truly have a sense of what the women, people of color, and all minorities among us have felt for their entire lives. For the first time in my life, I truly feel helpless and scared.”
More tears and then we drifted into uneasy sleep.
After this string of quiet volatility passed, we awoke to the new world. The sun had returned to this world. There could still be many great days ahead. The bully will have his day, but for the first time in my life, my eyes, ears and heart were truly open.
-D. Earl Stephens