Two weeks after the U.S. Presidential election, I asked Denny, “How are you feeling after the results?”
She answered, “I worked the polls from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m., then we had to take everything down for three more hours. Only two of us were under the age of 50, so we had to do all the heavy lifting. I felt so exhausted.
As I drove home, I listened to the results on the radio, and Trump was winning. I felt devastated. I called a friend to meet me for tacos, and she did.”
I told Denny, “Yeah. I pulled into myself and was a zombie for days. Walking the dog, I shrank away from the dark windows of houses, thinking, “These people like him. They voted for him.” Fear for the future and depression dragged me down.”
Denny said, “One good thing happened at the polling center. A bunch of skeptical Trumpers came in looking wary. They said, ‘No matter who I vote for, it won’t count. You’ll change my vote’. Every single time, I looked them in the eye and said, ‘No, I won’t. Your vote counts.’ Each time, they calmed down. Affected by this, one woman touched my shoulder as she left and said, “Thank you for your kindness.”
I said, “Wow. So, you had an impact. Your warmth changed some people’s false beliefs.”
This story gave me a boost. Denny’s behavior made me re-examine my thoughts and feelings. With her compassion, she opened a sliver of light in the dark, thick wall of differences between political tribes in this country.
What about these differences?
What I value, you don’t value.
My priority is not your priority.
We all know there are lies, but there may be some truths on both sides. There is something you trust that speaks of a connection with someone you think understands you or is there to help protect you or your interests.
Trump told you we’d fake the results. He told you it was stolen last time. And you believed him until a calm poll worker looked you in the eye to reassure you that you matter, that your vote matters.
Facts are no longer a reliable base for a political conversation in the USA. We only follow the left-wing or right-wing news. And neither side will entertain the other view.
But sometimes, there is a crack in the volcanic cave that you inhabit, and the light comes in. It hurts your eyes when you’ve been in the dark, but the brightness hits your head and re-scrambles your brainwashed red or blue brain. A moment of humanity gives you pause. A reassuring look that your vote is safe. A knowing smile for what we have in common: that we all love our families. That we want them to thrive. That for all of us, our checkmarks on a voting ballot translate to things we value: security, love, meaningful work, and opportunities to grow our families, our businesses, and our wealth.
I’m only beginning to peek at the news again. I’m only beginning to let the reality of this election sink in. I’m only beginning to see the crack of light, to recover from the bitter taste in my mouth.
I look forward to tasting something sweet, like holidays with family, hoping the smell of cranberry sauce and the sound of a child calling my name will return some warmth to my bones.
What is left to hold onto?
A dog wags its tail, happy to see me.
A child looks into my eyes with love.
A sister makes me laugh.
A lover hugs me until my tension melts like butter.
And a friend I can call at midnight
Agrees to meet me for tacos
To cushion the blow.
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