January 20th
January 20th is usually an OK day.
It's often cold and snowy where I live, but I like snow. A few years back, it was so unseasonably warm it was possible to golf on January 20th, which I did. Mostly, it's a work day, a church day, or a holiday (sometimes, it is Martin Luther King Day). Once in a while, I escape to sunnier, warmer climes on January 20th, and that is a wonderful change of pace.
Every four years, the date has additional significance, as our republic witnesses a peaceful transition of power. Eight years ago, it was historic as the first person of color ever elected became our 44th president. 16 years ago, even amid my unhappiness about the Supreme Court-driven outcome of election that preceded it, I could still appreciate Inauguration Day for the stability it represented, its pomp and circumstance and ceremony, and the history and import of the advent of a new president and administration.
Mostly, January 20th is OK.
Not this year. I'm dreading the date as I never have before.
It's not that my party lost the election, or my disappointment that, yet again, we've proven that as a nation we're not progressive enough to elect a woman president, even one who is indisputably qualified. It's not sour grapes. It's not my personal dislike of or distaste for the president-elect. (I didn't like Bill Clinton very much, either.)
This time, it's different.
This time, our nation elected a man who has total disregard for others. He "rates" women based on their physical attractiveness to him. He openly mocks the disabled. He spews racist dog whistles and blames our nation's ills not on its leadership, but on its poorest, most desperate residents. His conceit, crassness, and classlessness are unprecedented in the modern era. His mendacity goes unchallenged by a befuddled, clueless Fourth Estate. We've elected a mix of P.T. Barnum, Al Capone, Narcissus, and Scrooge McDuck to the most powerful position in our nation.
Heaven help us.
What will I do on Inauguration Day? I've been invited to play and sing in a concert, one which will be full of positivity, hope, and joy. The next day, I think I'll join one of the many women's marches around the country protesting the ascension of the worst possible man to the presidency. And I will cling to hope. I will believe that the new president will somehow realize he lost the popular vote and really does not have a governing mandate. I will affirm the essential goodness of our elected representatives, knowing they will not take actions designed to unravel the fabric of our society.
There is one last bastion -- a final arrow in the quiver of democracy -- which may save our nation from a downward spiral the likes of which we haven't seen in our lifetimes, fueled by a combination of ignorance, certainty, incompetence, and greed.
It is the filibuster.
The filibuster has been weakened over the years, because it has been abused over the years (though never more so than during the last eight). But the filibuster can still stop any piece of legislation, and although it can't stop a president's nominees to anything else, it can stop a nominee to the Supreme Court.
For eight years, it has taken 60 votes to pass almost anything. And while I don't generally advocate political tit for tat, if Senate Democrats permit Donald Trump to nominate anyone even a gnat's whisker right of center to the Supreme Court, they will have failed our nation. If they permit a weakening or repeal of the Affordable Care Act to come to a vote, they will have failed us. If any piece of legislation passes that is not genuinely bipartisan, they will have failed us.
It will only take three Republican defections to derail legislation, and this year, moderate Republicans are almost as afraid as the rest of us.
There is hope. There is a chance to limit the influence of this election and contain the damage it causes. Our job is to communicate daily with our representatives and insist that they do the right thing. If our voice is a unified one, it will be heard.
It's often cold and snowy where I live, but I like snow. A few years back, it was so unseasonably warm it was possible to golf on January 20th, which I did. Mostly, it's a work day, a church day, or a holiday (sometimes, it is Martin Luther King Day). Once in a while, I escape to sunnier, warmer climes on January 20th, and that is a wonderful change of pace.
Every four years, the date has additional significance, as our republic witnesses a peaceful transition of power. Eight years ago, it was historic as the first person of color ever elected became our 44th president. 16 years ago, even amid my unhappiness about the Supreme Court-driven outcome of election that preceded it, I could still appreciate Inauguration Day for the stability it represented, its pomp and circumstance and ceremony, and the history and import of the advent of a new president and administration.
Mostly, January 20th is OK.
Not this year. I'm dreading the date as I never have before.
It's not that my party lost the election, or my disappointment that, yet again, we've proven that as a nation we're not progressive enough to elect a woman president, even one who is indisputably qualified. It's not sour grapes. It's not my personal dislike of or distaste for the president-elect. (I didn't like Bill Clinton very much, either.)
This time, it's different.
This time, our nation elected a man who has total disregard for others. He "rates" women based on their physical attractiveness to him. He openly mocks the disabled. He spews racist dog whistles and blames our nation's ills not on its leadership, but on its poorest, most desperate residents. His conceit, crassness, and classlessness are unprecedented in the modern era. His mendacity goes unchallenged by a befuddled, clueless Fourth Estate. We've elected a mix of P.T. Barnum, Al Capone, Narcissus, and Scrooge McDuck to the most powerful position in our nation.
Heaven help us.
What will I do on Inauguration Day? I've been invited to play and sing in a concert, one which will be full of positivity, hope, and joy. The next day, I think I'll join one of the many women's marches around the country protesting the ascension of the worst possible man to the presidency. And I will cling to hope. I will believe that the new president will somehow realize he lost the popular vote and really does not have a governing mandate. I will affirm the essential goodness of our elected representatives, knowing they will not take actions designed to unravel the fabric of our society.
There is one last bastion -- a final arrow in the quiver of democracy -- which may save our nation from a downward spiral the likes of which we haven't seen in our lifetimes, fueled by a combination of ignorance, certainty, incompetence, and greed.
It is the filibuster.
The filibuster has been weakened over the years, because it has been abused over the years (though never more so than during the last eight). But the filibuster can still stop any piece of legislation, and although it can't stop a president's nominees to anything else, it can stop a nominee to the Supreme Court.
For eight years, it has taken 60 votes to pass almost anything. And while I don't generally advocate political tit for tat, if Senate Democrats permit Donald Trump to nominate anyone even a gnat's whisker right of center to the Supreme Court, they will have failed our nation. If they permit a weakening or repeal of the Affordable Care Act to come to a vote, they will have failed us. If any piece of legislation passes that is not genuinely bipartisan, they will have failed us.
It will only take three Republican defections to derail legislation, and this year, moderate Republicans are almost as afraid as the rest of us.
There is hope. There is a chance to limit the influence of this election and contain the damage it causes. Our job is to communicate daily with our representatives and insist that they do the right thing. If our voice is a unified one, it will be heard.
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