Recently Michael asked me if I ever write about politics on my blog. I told him that I don’t often broach that subject even though I have been passionately political throughout my adult life. I have a group of friends that I have known for years, women I met when my kids were in grade school. We are well-informed about current events, and it is usually the first thing we talk about whenever we get together. We each have strong opinions that we listen to, sometimes argue against, and always respect. Many years ago, when I was listening to a heated argument regarding politics amongst several couples, one of the women turned to me and said, “Let’s talk about something else. I hate politics.” I have never understood that position. Everything from the water you drink, the interest rate on your mortgage, and your kids’ education is political. Why would you ever let someone else decide those things for you without weighing in?
My intent this morning was to write about the fabulous trip Michael and I just took to Ireland and that will happen. But yesterday as we were adjusting to getting back home after a hellish travel day, doing laundry, yardwork, and stocking the fridge, the news broke that President Biden was dropping out of the race and with it my heart dropped. Michael and I have disagreed about whether he should stay in the race or not and I was steadfastly behind him. His debate performance? Awful, but I thought he’d recover and serve again. That was not to be and as I later lay wide awake in bed due to jet lag and thinking about the fast-moving events hours before, I started to cry which has never been a habit of mine when it comes to politicians.
Whenever I saw Joe Biden, I saw his pain. I think that switch flips on when you have an out-of-order loss and never flips off. Since my own traumatic loss, I see it everywhere – the people in The Club. For me he represented such decency, such perseverance and fight when his world imploded twice, the grace to say that these losses of his would always hurt, and that staunch Catholicism of his that reminded me so much of my dad.
During our rough day of travel on Saturday when we still had a long way to go, Michael and I landed in Newark. Over a glass of wine, I thought how much I couldn’t wait to get a good night’s sleep and call my mom in the morning to tell her all about the trip. Then I remembered she was gone, and just like that I felt like I was plopped from a life with this woman who was funny and beautiful, who carried her faith with her wherever she went, and of course couldn’t wait to hear everything about your trip.
During those early morning tears of mine, I thought that this president of ours who is very familiar with having your back against the wall would have cried with me, handed me his handkerchief as I blew my snotty nose into the presidential seal, and then said, “C’mon, kid, put your game face back on, we’ve got a woman to elect.”
Oh…I cried too fir Joe…I am crying now over your losses, my losses America’s loss. I love Joe Biden. He is a good man. He was a good President. Now let’s dry our tears and put our big girl pants on because we cannot let a Rapist, Election Deniers, Cheating Narcisstic Sociopath back in our White House.
Oh me….i also cried for all the reasons you said…It has been 5 months since my son died and i also see and feel the pain of others…reading this i cried again ..for all of us….thank you for so beautifully expressing what so many of us feel…..now, one step going forward
💜💜💜💜💜
I agree. I was sold on Biden,but now I am energized behind Harris…
In agreement 100 on all counts ❗️
You never, never disappoint. Not ever. Beautifully written.
And we will! I was with you – Joe should stay in the race. Seeing the enthusiasm for Kamala, I’ve decided he made a decision for America and am optimistic we will be ok! Trump will look even more ludicrous beside this smart focused woman whose beautiful smile is a fantastic positive contrast to his childish smirk.
I, too, have been so conflicted about Joe Biden standing down. I remember what the press did to Vietnam War POW hero Navy Vice Admiral James Stockdale when he had a disastrous run as Ross Perot’s VP. I was distraught at Biden becoming a laughing stock again after the disastrous debate.
The world can be so cold.
I don’t know any family who didn’t struggle for a short time on Sunday, processing the news. On our group text, my six sisters and I were a study in Baby Boomer 101. The oldest, at 71, was initially incensed at the elder abuse she saw from his fellow Democrats. The middle, me, at 66, was sad but elated at the respectful choice he made in handing the reins to Kamala. And the youngest, at 61, said to work it all out of our systems before our family zoom at 5 because we had a lot to talk about, and some of it would also be about dogs, gardens, books and movies.