As I write this, the question remains unanswered. Who will be inaugurated on Jan. 20?
While I don’t know the answer, what I do know is that this election season has overflowed with ugliness. Friendships have unraveled and family ties have loosened. “My way or the highway” was the slogan of voters.
I’m guilty. I knew whom I would select before he knew he had been chosen by his party. My vote was anyone but Trump.
I stuck to my guns. I tried to show some younger voters the errors of their way. I spoke my piece. I wrote on social media. Then I voted.
No matter the winner, I did all that I felt I could do. I’m satisfied. Now, it’s time to return to life. Whether others wish to mend fences remains to be seen.
I’ve read hundreds of articles and thousands of posts. I’ve seen people called names that shouldn’t be used in polite company. I’ve read about stolen election signs and piles of flaming dog doo. I’ve seen TV reports of scary folks with guns and plots to kidnap officials. I’ve read of punches and slaps among strangers with opposing political views.
Can we come back from all that ugliness? I don’t know.
Somehow we have forgotten that we are all Americans. We look at each other as blue or red, black or white, gay or straight, urban or rural. Mix all that with a dozen or so differing religious philosophies, and suddenly we’re in a country where no one trusts anyone who isn’t a mold of themselves.
I said earlier that I’m ready to return to life. But what is that now? We have to add the pandemic into our mix of why we distrust one another.
A lot of people, especially those of my age, remain terribly afraid. I think rightly so. We’re still avoiding crowds and stores and restaurants.
But others are less wary. They want to open the doors to everything and hope for the best. They want kids in school and crowds at football games.
And so the divide widens.
The pandemic has kept a lot of people at home, where they watch TV and rail at “them,” meaning anyone who looks different, sounds different, acts differently, thinks differently or worships differently.
We have planted the seeds of hate. Election season was fertilizer. The pandemic provided the rain. The seeds have grown. Now we must decide whether to harvest the hate or plow it under.
This is our country. Its success depends on all of us working together. If we don’t, if we harvest the hate, the divide will grow into an enormous chasm.
The election is over. Somebody won. Somebody lost. Now let’s get over it and move onward together.
NANCY ESHELMAN: columnist1@verizon.net
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November 06, 2020 at 05:20PM
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In this election cycle, we’ve forgotten that we’re all Americans | Nancy Eshelman - pennlive.com
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