This is going to be a short diary.
I live in a red county in Texas. I won’t mention which one.
Tuesday night, after learning about the Vulgar Talking Yam, I spent the entire night tossing and turning.
Much of Wednesday, I spent mourning.
Yesterday, I realized that I can keep on crying if I want, but that wouldn’t actually change anything. So I decided to do something.
I drove down to the county Democratic Party office and signed up to volunteer. One thing I learned from the woman I spoke to: it’s a red enough county that they knew most races were lost causes. But for the first time in recent memory, they had candidates get into the 40s in the vote total. It’s just a matter of getting from the 40s into the 50s.
There’s a volunteer information/training session on Saturday. I’m going to be there. I don’t know yet what I’m going to be doing, but I’ll be there on Saturday, and then next week, and the week after that, and the week after that. . . .
Once you’re done grieving for what we might lose (as another diarist noted, Van Jones said it’s OK), you should do the same thing.