One Week Later

Well.

A week ago I stared at my phone in the very early dawn, for much longer than usual, willing a different headline to appear before me. I had known before I went to bed on Tuesday that the outlook did not appear great. Perhaps in an attempt to will a decent night's sleep I told myself it was still early, polls on the West Coast had just closed.  

Alas.  Here we are.  My God, here. we. are.

Naturally, I am all the emotions - gutted, disappointed, appalled, worried, frustrated.  Perhaps it is telling that one emotion I am not is shocked. Unfortunately I never felt confident this orange-faced racist, fascist, convicted felon, narcissist (take your pick!) would disappear quietly into the night.   

This is not, never will be, a political blog.  There are people far more qualified than me who can pontificate and study and Monday morning quarterback the election, analyzing it and the outcome for the next four years.  I'll let them take on that job.  But I keep thinking about how half of the country went one way, the other half went another. And then I think about my own day-to-day existence at a very micro level. Yesterday, Indy and I went to Central Park first thing for our morning routine of off-leash play time and ball catching.  We encountered two rude people during our time there and two very nice and kind people.  Half and half. An even divide.  On Monday, I had to go to the doctor's for a minor surgery.  While waiting for the elevator to take me to the eighth floor, I had one woman shove me out of the way to get on (the same) elevator and then, another man, who witnessed her behavior, roll his eyes in solidarity and spoke to me after she got off, wishing me well and extending kindness.  Asshole: 1. Kindness: 1.  Even, Steven.

I'm not sure if I will make it through four years of just relying on this exercise to keep me sane, but I will admit it has helped in this last week.  For every jerk I encounter, I try and find a decent human, try and notice the good around me.  The kindness always appears quieter than the loud-mouthed assholes so you do really have to search sometimes.  But it is there.  They are there.  Good people are still out there, I believe that.  As the beloved Mr. Rogers reminded us many years ago: look for the helpers.  

So that's it.  That's the hope I will lean into right now, the thing that I will hold onto to keep me grounded. It is so small, such a microcosm, I know.  There will also be the need to act, to pay attention, to not be bulldozed.  I will (we will) get there. For now, I'll seek out the quiet kindnesses and the soft-spoken good.

Onward.