Photo © Michael Gold 2024 with permission
Education is our only political safety. Outside of this ark all is deluge.
-Horace Mann (1796-1859)
This is what I wrote early in the day yesterday:
Election Day, 2024, and I am sketching out a post-election blog post at 12:48 p.m. In other words, it's still early; we won't have a result for a few days the pundits tell us. I voted by mail-in ballot and feel relaxed today, though I am not sure why. Or, perhaps I do know why. Beyond what we have done to encourage those in our orbit to vote, the postcards we've written, the canvassing we've done, we are powerless to influence the outcome. For a few hours—or days—during this hiatus, suspended in a hammock of time, we can listen to music, enjoy the crisp autumn weather, enjoy our friends and family, and let go. We all need the rest.
Early this morning, I went for a workout and then to my local supermarket where I had yet another interesting encounter while standing on line. The woman behind me was eager to talk about the election. This is how she began: "I am so freaked out, my daughter is so freaked out, they are trying to take away our vote."
Where to begin? How to say all I needed to say as the line inched forward. How to maintain my cool and empathy for this hysterical uneducated—or undereducated—woman ? In that moment of confusion, I made a silent decision to carry a copy of the Constitution with me from now on. I could have pulled it up on my phone, but that would have been too distracting. I remained silent, but also attentive.
"I know I need to relax, right?" she said.
"Best to calm down," I began, "for your daughter's sake, if not for your own."
"I believe in the women's right to choose."
"Excellent. That is good for your daughter, and for all women," I said.
"But they are trying to steal our votes?"
The "they" in her sentence gave me pause. I took a breath and asked, "Who is they? Women have been able to vote since 1920. Are you familiar with the 19th Amendment?"
She was not. Indeed, she had conflated Roe v Wade and a woman's right to choose with a woman's right to vote.
Once outside in the lot, unloading the apples and cider for my drop-by election party tonight, I thought to myself: This is a blessing. Now we know how undereducated even our "liberal" population is. We have to get to work.
And this is what I wrote this morning:
November 6, 2024, waking to the result that Trump has smoked the Democrats, that the Republicans have taken the Senate, and may take the House. Disbelief, shock, sadness. Were we—the Democrats among us—misled or in denial? The sweep is difficult to compute. Our daughter calls for an early morning FT post mortem. Her dad is an historian, and she has incisive historical perspective: "It began with the backlash against Obama," she says. I manage to eke out one sentence: "I am glad we live in New York State."
Facebook has gone silent except for one friend who has set up a shrine and is sitting shiva for the United States. It does feel like a wake, but I can't relate to this response. A Black male friend writes: "Sadly all the dog whistles are turning into sirens." This does not explain the Black vote or the bonding between Black and White males. That has to be examined in the months to come.
Then there is the commiseration from friends overseas as though the result has nothing to do with them. Problem is, what happens here will affect the world, that's obvious: Ukraine, Israel, NATO, Gaza. All will be impacted as of January 20, 2025.
How is my day different? My life different? Is this now a fascist country? Important questions posed my my daughter.
"Off for a swim," I say as we end our FT call and go on with our lives, one day at a time.
In the pool, three ideas for stories surface as I count my laps, a meditation. This is solace. I imagine a conversation with myself: As I writer, it's my mandate to witness and document—if I am able—as I did with Covid in my Virus Without Borders blog posts. I will do something similar in the weeks and months ahead, taking detours into other subjects as they occur to me. And as an educator, I will devote myself to my students and to other educators struggling in the classroom. I will resist book bans, pressure from School Boards, and encourage the pursuit of knowledge, the completion of important projects, and through knowledge and achievement hope for a more educated and compassionate electorate. This is a radical project suffused with hope. It requires courage, activism and resistance to despair. I hope some of my readers will join me in similar endeavors.