Monday, November 5, 2018

Holding my breath....

Tomorrow is the day. The election happens tomorrow. I will cast my vote in the morning, taking two pieces of mail with my name and address typed on them--one from Medicare and one from the National Episcopal Church. Since I object to voter ID laws in other states, I will refuse to show my driver's licence tomorrow. It will be my way of protesting voter suppression. I may get grief, but I don't care. It is a pitiful protest, I know, given how much voter suppression there is, but I will feel better doing it.

And I will vote, as always, straight Democratic. I'm tempted to vote for Oz, the independent candidate for governor, since I agree with him more than either of the two main party candidates, but I fear a vote for Oz would make the Republican--a real Trump kind of guy--win. Many people in CT are upset with the current Democratic governor (not me) and there is a huge budget deficit that some folks think a Republican might fix and the Democrat is really Casper Milquetoast. But I couldn't bear my vote electing Stephonoski.

And then I'll go get my Zolair shots at Waterbury Hospital that have made me, a life-long sufferer of asthma and allergies, a healthy person. I haven't seen my allergist for a year and won't until January. I used to see him monthly, before Zolair.

And then, though someone who has had asthma since a child shouldn't, I will hold my breath.

I will hold my breath until the returns across the nation come in. I'll be up late tomorrow night..

If the 'Blue Wave' doesn't happen, I may start looking at property in Canada or Ireland.

Living under the President Who Will Not Be Named has maimed my soul.

Unless the balance shifts tomorrow, I will feel very afraid to be in a nation of immigrants who fear immigrants and separate them from their children and cast fear about them all around--like those homeless and noble folks still months away from our border.

I will be afraid of the hate toward all minorities and the disregard of climate change and the mil lieu  where 'lies' are better than 'facts' and where neo-Natzis include 'good people' and where tax cuts for the rich might be covered by reductions to Medicare and Social Security and where universal health care suggestions are considered blasphemy.

So, I'm holding my breath and praying that tomorrow will be more about hope than fear.

I pray that with all my wounded soul.

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some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.