Back in the early 90s, I met a guy in AA who was living with a friend of mine. I found out I wasn’t an alcoholic, I had just been self-medicating my bi-polarness. He, on the other hand was an alcoholic. He was from California and had moved to NC in the late 80s. We easily became friends; finding that we could talk about anything and everything, no judgment, and total trust.
The relationship between him and my friend was not a good one; they were into head games and button pushing, and she constantly accused him of running around on her. I had already deduced that he was more like me, serially monogamous. If he was with someone, he was with them only and I think it really hurt him.
During that time I had a knee fracture and needed surgery. I had finally rid myself of HUH (Husbands from Hell) #3, so I was alone. This friend (we’ll call him “Eric”) just came up one day and informed me, didn’t ask, just flat told me that he would be at my house when my dad brought me home from the hospital to stay and take care of me for a few days. I lived in a two-story townhouse and the front steps were even worse, so I really couldn’t argue. He told me that he was really mad at his girlfriend since she hadn’t even offered to help me and was supposed to be my friend. I suspected that he was also messing with her and trying to make her jealous.
The attraction was always there; we talked about it but since we were both not “single”, didn’t do anything about it; we didn’t want to be the people we had used to be. They later broke up (I had nothing to do with it) and she left town. I hooked up with another egregious error, and Eric went back to California to see his parents.
Months went by, the error and I split, and Eric came back from California. And that was it. We were still best friends. And ready to admit there was a whole lot more to it.
I lived life as a raving liberal progressive. My parents were Democrats and always took me to vote with them. I loved learning about civics in school, but didn’t make it through college. My mental illness flowered and I got very good at totally fucking up my life.
The year I turned 18, the voting age was lowered to 18. And I haven’t missed an election since, large or small. I didn’t have any political friends or people to hang out with and didn’t know how to get to know them. I studied candidates before I voted, but I always voted.
Fast forward to a few years ago. I met some people from the county party, and ended up as a precinct chair when nobody else wanted it. I went from not-so-involved to totally immersed. In 2000 I had rolled a tractor-trailer down a 90 foot embankment and was left with a lot of permanent soft tissue injuries that give me pain daily, to this day. Both my knees are shot, and I have other medical conditions that preclude a lot of things I’d like to do. I travel a bit by wheelchair; I can stand and I can walk, but neither for very far or very long. There is so much I want to do but can’t, and it’s really frustrating, I’m one of those old hippies who looks at demonstrations now and thinks “didn’t we already do this???? And now we have to do it again? Shit.”
Eric never cared about politics, or voting, or any of it. In 2018 when I became a precinct chair, he always came to meetings with me to push me in my chair. He started getting a bit interested, and by about 2012 I had him voting,
Between 2020 and late 2021, the pandemic was raging and I was being very careful since I have COPD and am on O2. During that time, I also dropped 90 pounds (I’ve always had a weight problem). I could lose 30 more or so but it’s still a huge difference. Since then I’ve also been diagnosed with a heart condition. I stressed off all that weight (I don’t recommend it but I’ll take it). I grew more and more frustrated at all the things I couldn’t do — knocking doors is out, if I try to phone bank and talk too much I’ll get choked and start coughing, and texting-forget it. I used to have the most beautiful handwriting, but severe arthritis and other hand problems took care of that.
Until one day awhile back my loving husband (who is now fighting cancer) and I sat on the patio and I was expressing my frustration, wondering what I could do, the least little thing I could do to help save our democracy. He said, “I can write. I mean, the letters...” My mouth fell open and my eyes filled with tears. I said, “You would do that? If I could handle the envelopes legibly? You’d do that for me?” He smiled and said, “Of course I would”. I cried for awhile. I would never have asked but...and I’m so worried sick about HIS health.
And so, so far we have almost 700 letters for Vote Forward, and no signs of stopping yet. Then, a little while back, I walked into the living room, and he was watching the hearings. I was stunned. Even more stunned when one night I caught him watching Rachel. Then he was starting discussions about Rachel and Lawrence and the people they had on last night. I mean, this man was NEVER a political animal, but now? And we talk about everything that’s going on.
But for me, it still boils down to that one thing- that he was willing to do this for me as an act of love. Yes, we are sick, and stressed, and afraid. But we have each other and the hope that our democracy will survive. And we also have the knowledge that there’s nothing better than being in love with your best friend.