Stumped

You know that moment in the old TV Westerns when a gritty, exhausted man on a horse rides into town with grim news: “We’re on our own. The cavalry isn’t coming.” It’s when the town folk realize that no one else is going to save them. Suddenly, reality sinks in, and everything becomes crystal clear. They accept the hard truth: We must save ourselves.

It’s been a helluva couple of weeks, my fellow Americans. And I’m pretty certain the cavalry isn’t coming.

Frankly, I’m still in disbelief after the 2024 presidential election results. As one distraught friend said, they’ve been staring into space a lot trying to understand why decent people voted for that man. I don’t get it either.

How is it possible that once again the American people chose the worst person in the world over a smart, decent woman – for the second time in eight years? A woman with more character, integrity and work experience than the other guy could ever dream of.

Good grief. What a pitiful loss. A bloodbath. Seven swing states.

Upon my own self-reflection, I believe that I overestimated the importance of a candidate’s civility and decency to voters, some of them people I know and love. I let my emotions get the better of me. I mean, you don’t have to love someone to vote for them. I haven’t particularly liked a few flawed candidates that I ultimately supported because of their policies.

Surely, I respected them as well. Didn’t I?

It seems the worse he got, the more voters liked him. Those endless racist, sexist and misogynistic rants against Blacks, Latinos, women and others like me must have smelled like catnip to supporters.

Please don’t tell me he speaks for you. That’s downright shameful.

Nicolle Wallace of MSNBC’s “Deadline White House” said this after Election Night: “Never sanitize his victory with the shit he did to get there.”

Indeed. It was a perversion of politics. But this is what voters wanted. Decency be damned. And not just in the western world.

The day after he won, Afghanistan’s Taliban (the most extreme and radical of all Islamic terrorist organizations) offered its congratulations to the American people for “not handing leadership of their great country to a woman.”

Well, now. Isn’t that rich? Not something you’re likely to share with the grandchildren over milk and cookies.

Here’s what it comes down to: Most Americans – that’s the 75 million men and women who voted for him over her – may never be comfortable trusting a qualified woman to run this country. Notice I added “qualified” because the notion of voting for someone just because they’re a woman is insulting in 2024.

The fact that those of us with lady parts are a notch below convicted felons makes my head (and heart) hurt.

“America elected its first criminal president before electing its first female president,” comedian Desi Lydic said after the election on Comedy Central. “What a day for proud felonists.”

(Aside: Pretty sure “felonists” isn’t a word, but it should be.)

What has changed for me since Tuesday, November 5? I’m beyond navel gazing and slowly moving through the so-called five stages of grief: Denial. Depression. Anger. Bargaining. Looking forward to being on the road to acceptance. But don’t rush me, OK?

Time will tell.

Oh, and I quit watching TV news, except for local broadcasts to catch weather and sports updates about the Detroit Lions (9-1!). I’m off Facebook, reading fewer email news roundups and more books of fiction. Maybe I’ll take up knitting. (That was for my friend, Martha. Not a chance, cookie.)

I suppose these myriad emotions are required for my own self-preservation. You have to live your life, you know? Can’t be upset all of the time. Well, you could.

I mean, I’m half Italian and a lapsed Catholic. Growing up, guilt was a side dish in our household. (If you’re in the mood for cinematic retribution, then go see the movie “Conclave.” It may get you closer to the acceptance stage faster.)

In unrelated news, two large tree stumps were removed from our yard last week. I felt a rush watching workers use a special machine to yank them out of the ground in about the time it takes for me to finish my morning oatmeal.

If it were left up to me, I would have used a chainsaw or sledge hammer on those bad boys. Or maybe just burned the damn things down and watched them smolder like charred rump roasts.

And if either of those suckers grows back, I’m dumping potassium nitrate on them to speed up the rotting process.

I know, I know. Simmer down, sister. Don’t get so worked up over a couple of stumps.

Or a lost election. Same thing happens every four years. Winners and losers. Suck it up, buttercup. Wait for 2028.

But this time everything feels different. The protective guardrails are gone. There’s global chaos. Fear and ignorance reign supreme.

American historian Heather Cox Richardson, one of the smartest people on the planet, was recently asked if democracy is viable across 332 million Americans in the 21^st century.

“It’s not,” she replied. “We just demonstrated that on November 5.”

She added that the states are now in charge, and the future of the world’s oldest modern democracy is with states’ rights, meaning local and state governments will take the lead role on checking the federal government.

For example, in this election 10 states had reproductive rights on the ballot. Votes in seven of those states passed measures expanding or protecting abortion access – including Arizona and Missouri, where citizens effectively voted to overturn their state’s bans – despite not backing the Democratic ticket.

Sounds like an ass-backward way to get things done. Yet I do recall a time not so long ago when states’ rights were a hallmark of the GOP, when democracy was far preferable to an autocratic system.

Time will tell.

“While I concede this election, I do not concede the fight that fueled this campaign,” Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris said in her November 6 speech at Howard University in Washington.

Keep fighting, friends. Keep reminding yourself that half of this great country did the right thing. We are not alone. We will emerge from this, but likely not unscathed.

And I’m pretty sure we are the cavalry that’s going to save us.