Too much to say, too little time

On Tuesday I thought I wanted to die I was so devastated by the election results.  The United States had elected a self-declared racist to its highest office.  I wondered if there were any reason to be alive in a world that, frankly, had totally come apart for me.  I went through all the scenarios of what would happen:  appointments of other racists to high office, Latinos and Muslims cowering in their homes and jobs waiting to be deported, chidden wailing as they saw their parents imprisoned.  And I'm not just talking about those who are illegal.  

What I imagined is already happening and Trump has not yet taken office.  The bigots are out there threatening anyone who doesn't look like them.  They wave signs in schools and on the streets, telling people to go back to where they came from, even if where they came from was in the hospital down the street.

So why am I still alive.  In some deep part of my being I have always been an optimist.  I have always believed that anyone I liked personally thought as I did and was always shocked when someone who appeared to be kind had hatred for others unlike them.  Well,  the optimist is still here and I have decided that I must work hard to insure that Donald Trump is our president for the shortest possible time, that the plurality of voters who wanted to see Hillary Clinton as our president are not going away, that we will win because we're the majority and because we're on the right side of history.

All those who feel as I do have much to do in the next few months and years.  On my next post, I will list what we can do to bring about real change.  But first get out those safety pins and pin one to your coat where everyone can see it.  It represents many things but most of all it tells others we believe in inclusion and that we won't accept the Trump agenda of racism and hatred.  

Tomorrow, more.  But now I have to get ready to visit a cataract surgeon.  Goodbye for now, but as Scarlett said, "tomorrow is another day."