A political convention is supposed to pull your heart strings a bit, introduce the candidates, and talk about the party.
However, rarely does a political convention bring one to tears.
This past week’s Democratic National Convention was quite the tear jerker. It wasn’t just because of the young man who is working to cope with stuttering. It wasn’t just the little girl writing how her family has been split up due to deportation. It wasn’t just the young lady in the wheelchair needing medical services she can only get in the U.S. It wasn’t just Joe Biden’s granddaughters telling stories of their grandfather. It wasn’t just seeing the diversity and beauty of our nation shown during the Roll Call. It wasn’t just the moving speeches by Michelle Obama, Barack Obama, or families who have lost family members to COVID-19.
It wasn’t just one thing, it was everything.
It was seeing the good that is still out there. It was feeling the pain of the lose of loved ones. It was observing the fight we have in store to be able to vote.
It was feeling hope again. It was hearing what people are doing to help end the nightmare we are living. It was watching how being a civil servant, a politician, is about being of service to the people who elected them. It was knowing Joe Biden will be the president of us all, not just those who vote for him. It was seeing people actually being civil, nice, and uplifting. It was watching the humility of people. It was about seeing people putting country over party, whom value, honor, and respect our laws and institutions.
Let me say that again, it was about seeing people putting country over party, whom value, honor, and respect our laws and institutions.
It was about feeling hope again. That maybe, just maybe, we will survive the chaos. That it is possible, even probable, our nation will survive, and will push back in a big way, the march towards authoritarian rule.
It was also how frank and candid the speakers were of the danger we are in, that the fight will be tough, that we cannot give up or slow down, that we must take the action of voting whether it be absentee, mail-in, early, or same day voting.
It was also how each day, and often throughout the broadcast, many people kept telling us to plan our vote. How we must vote. How we have to win by a very large margin so there can be no doubt who has won.
Many tears were shed because I didn’t feel alone in the fight. It felt good to know there are millions of us ready to fight the good fight, get into some good trouble, and take to the ballot box to stop trumpism in its tracks.
We have a little over 70 days until November 3. We have even fewer days until the first votes can be cast in early voting states. We need to take the joy, the happiness, the frustration, and the anger we have felt this past week, over the direction our country has taken, while watching the Convention, to the ballot box.
We must vote. We must vote blue. We must vote blue from the Presidency all the way down the ballot to the local dog catcher. We must vote.
If we all show up, we will win. If, we show up, we, will, win!
Personal Reflections of a Middle-Aged Man 