Their plans made me think about my own experience in the months preceding the 2004 US "election". Our immigration applications were already filed; we were leaving no matter what the outcome. I decided to do everything I could to help elect John Kerry.
I worked with America Coming Together, first as a phone-banker, then running a phone-bank crew. I also organized a voter-registration drive to Scranton, Pennsylvania.
On Election Day, I worked a 20-hour day, training and shepherding teams of volunteers through calls to New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, Ohio, New Mexico and Oregon.
I couldn't have done the work if I didn't believe we could win. I never could have summoned the necessary energy and enthusiasm unless I thought we could do it. I knew there was a likelihood of fraud - I was already well-versed in the many ways the election might be stolen - but I thought we could muster enough votes to override it. I clung to hope and hunkered down to work, just as so many good people in the US are doing right now.
The energy in the room was astounding. There were TVs on all over, and as the night went on, tension mounted, but there was so much hope.
When we finally cleared out the room and left at 11 p.m., people were gathering at various bars, but I was utterly exhausted and needed to be home. Lying on the couch, I felt nearly sick with exhaustion, my joints throbbing. Watching the returns was agonizing. At 2:30 a.m., nearing the 24-hour mark, I took a sleeping pill and went to bed.
This morning I saw the "breaking news" crawl on CNN and turned on the sound just in time to learn that Kerry was conceding. I ran into the bedroom. "Allan, wake up, wake up, Kerry is conceding. He's conceding!" and then I burst into tears. Watching the concession speech later in the day, I start to sob.
Kerry had promised that he wouldn't give up until every vote was counted and every question answered.
Then Kerry conceded before the votes were counted.
I think of that summer as the last time I had any hope for the US. I was leaving anyway. I knew I didn't want to live there anymore. Knew I didn't want my taxes supporting foreign invasions for oil while people died for lack of health care. But a little part of my heart still believed there was hope for the country of my birth.
Then Kerry conceded before the votes were counted, and that shred of hope died.
Now I am just hoping I am wrong.
I'm not wrong about Obama, not wrong about the Democrats. We know about them from a lifetime of experience. But the great mass of progressives aligned with this decidedly un-progressive candidate has me hoping I'm wrong about this so-called election. That's the unknown.
Allan says no matter what the outcome, no matter who is declared the winner, we won't know how the votes were cast. That is true. But if what I fear comes to pass, it's worse than that.
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Ongoing election-fraud thread here.
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Looking for these old links, I found this post. Summer of 2004. We were sweating over the playoffs, which would become the highlight of every Red Sox fan's life, and our Buster had been diagnosed with the glaucoma that would eventually kill him. That was before the inflammatory bowel disease that almost killed him the following summer. Only a handful of people knew we were moving to Canada.
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