I watched Hillary’s concession speech with the cat on my lap and tears in my eyes. I came of age in Southern Colorado when Jack Kennedy was President, surrounded by my fellow “Latinos” who saw in him and the Democrats their best chance at inclusion in the state of things. How proudly some of my relatives went to work at Democratic headquarters. Even though he was an Irish Catholic, we thought he was one of us. Mexican families still have velour tapestries of Kennedy on their walls.
I feel like I did the day Bowie died. I can forget the looming dark fact for minutes at a time. Then something reminds me…
I have stayed with the Democrats through all of that. For all of their flaws, the Democrats gave us Medicare, BEOG college grants so that the likes of me could be educated, the Voting Rights Act, the Environmental Protection Agency, all down the line, in an attempt to even up the playing field in America. Their plans worked, too. Many poor kids who would at best have become smart criminals or the straw boss of their cotton picking gang under laissez faire capitalism went on to become doctors, lawyers, politicians, artists, or violinists like me. Now they want to undo even the pitiful health care plan that they dropped down from the table at us.
In attempting to prepare myself for this eventuality (just in case), I had decided the night before that I must revert to the strategy of denial and compartmentalization that allowed me to overcome my profound existential revulsion over Reagan and Bush.
As Trump would say, “SAD”.