I'm writing this on Tuesday, many hours before the polls close here in Connecticut.
I would have voted for a rancid tuna-fish salad sandwich left out in the sun for a week before ever casting a ballot for that Orange Abomination heading up the GOP ticket, so I was delighted to be able to vote for Kamala Harris and am 'nauseously optimistic' that Kam and the Coach will prevail but we live in an age of uncertainty and it could be quite some time until all the ballots, absentee, early voting, spoiled ballots, and the like are all tabulated.
I can wait. I have the rest of my life for us to get it right. But, regardless of the final outcome, here's something I do know about myself, and by extension (how arrogant, I know) about all of us, and I'm not happy with this discovery.
I am now less accepting and tolerant of those with a perspective differing from mine than at any point in my life so far here on the ant farm. I want to blame Donald Trump for the hardening of my heart but I am lying to myself. He is and was never the problem with America; he is and was the symptom of the problem.
I very much dislike the person I have become and, thus, by the same extension I deployed earlier, I'm not especially fond of you either. We need to replace the hate with healing and I have no idea how to even begin to do that. But we need to try.
-bill kenny
