When I was a teenager I overheard my Grandmother saying very straight-faced, after being complemented on her 50th Wedding Anniversary, “Well they weren’t all good years.” I was slightly shocked to hear her admit that, especially in the midst of her celebration, but most everyone around who was married for any length of time nodded in agreement. In the ensuing years, I have come to realized that life often brings harsh challenges, sometimes a whole avalanche of them, and these can alter even the best of relationships. My spouse & I have weathered many such hardships, most certainly there have been periods when we weren’t sure we would survive. When COVID sheltered us this worry intensified because all I heard about via every social media outlet was the spiking divorce rate due to the lockdown. I started to obsess it would happen to us, but eventually I had to stop reading the negative news, focus on my present day, let go of the fear and the hype, and believe in what we have built together over the decades.
Red in the white
With the strain and slant of black
These winter days push us to our limits and demand blood
The life the surge of all that we have of all we want of all period
Red splashes across this midsection of our February
Thank you. Those two small words can’t convey my gratitude but I offer them anyway. Your service to the people of this country is public record, and is nothing but lengthy and mighty. From the earliest you sought to better the lives of those less-fortunate than you. In general, I am in awe of those who seek careers under such scrutiny, but to do so when your honorable years as Secretary of State were boiled down to misinformation, your impressive years as US Senator dismissed like hot air, even your noteworthy years as First Lady glossed over to nothingness was painful to witness never mind what it must have done to your psyche. The least we could do was dismantle the hate talk and misinformation spouted by your opponent and remember the truth. Many of us did. Many of us still do.
We will not forget Hillary. Your sacrifice. Your professionalism. How you went high when your opponent asked you to go so very low. You may not have broken that glass ceiling, but you made women, and men, believe it was within reach, for ourselves, our daughters, for our sisters and granddaughters. Let anyone dismiss us as a pussy to grab, and we will indeed show ourselves to be more formidable than passive. Let anyone tell us that global climate change is a hoax and we will haul our science to the Senate floor and demand facts be checked. Let any of our elected officials think that it will be business as usual in Washington, and we will flood them with calls and letters and tweets and emails and our own bodies until they get our meaning. We will break the back of the NRA. We will continue to demand equality on every front. We will not return to the butchery of back-alley abortions or begging for health care for our elderly. You may think you have lost, but you will find an eager army ready to champion your every ideal. For we will continue the work you started Hillary, and we will not tire, until our collective, beautiful, inclusive, responsive and innovative vision becomes reality.
As we returned this week to our libraries, schools, town offices, shops, our daycare facilities, our places of industry, we only did as we imagined you would do: we held our heads high. For truly, what was defeated on November 8th?
I have loved the same woman for a quarter of a century, and together, like millions of Americans, we attempt to face each dawn with strength and vigor. There is no defeat possible that will keep us down. Long before our government allowed us the right, we wed. There is no defeat possible that will untangle that love. Together we raised caring sons and a resilient daughter. There is no defeat that will diminish their moral compass. Together we have built a community that rises when occasion calls, be it celebratory or tragic; and likewise, no defeat will diminish those bonds.
The millenniums voted, overwhelmingly, blue. As their day is cresting the horizon, the older, whiter, and frightened red will fade, as anger often does, to confusion and regret. But in the meantime Hillary, go to the beach with your grandchildren. Order something fruity, in a coconut, with an umbrella. Let the sunshine warm your tired soul. Know we love you, for all your decades of service, for the dreams you dared to voice which we wholeheartedly believe, and the vision of an united world that some tomorrow will bring. Thank you Hillary. You’re still our hero.
Nine Cent Girl