Teddy
I’ll call him Teddy, not his actual name. He’s the voter I remember best from my days canvassing for the New Hampshire Democratic Party, and for me, Teddy exemplifies the tragedy of this election.
I met Teddy when I knocked on his front door in a small town in southern New Hampshire. He opened the door slowly and warily. When I told him I was visiting on behalf of New Hampshire Democrats, he expressed doubt: “ Two young men were here yesterday. How do I know you are who you say you are?” I told him that I could only assure him that I was indeed a volunteer for the New Hampshire Democrats.
Standing at his front door, with the screen between us, Teddy began talking. He was angry about Donald Trump, but what really stood out was his level of fear and despair.
“The way he he talks about women. It’s disgusting.”
“The things he’s said about the disabled, horrible.”
Teddy’s voice shook, but he continued to speak slowly. He told me Donald Trump was unqualified and unfit, reckless, a man without qualifications, who cheated workers.
I simply listened. He was already beside himself.
Teddy added that he was only glad that his mother had not lived to see this.
Finally, Teddy opened his screen door, shook my hand, and I said goodbye and departed.
Teddy was not alone, I met others over several days who shared his visceral anger and fear at what might happen to their country, but he stood out for me, because I wondered if he could stay well if Trump won.
Teddy is only one of tens of millions of Americans profoundly damaged and threatened by the outcome of his election.
The debates so far over what to do in response consist mainly of people spouting doctrine and asserting that whatever they already thought is the explanation. Yes, it will eventually be important to figure out how to do better with those things we do control, but the ego-driven arguments about who to blame are shameful. Instead of dedicating our passion to attacking each other, we need to think of what to do for Teddy and all the other Americans like him.