Post Elections

Now that we know how it all played out I keep thinking of the growing urgency me and my canvassing partner had when knocking on 197 doors on Election Day. It seemed oddly familiar, almost like a dark fairy tale.

Knock... Knock... Knock...

- Yes?

- Have you voted today?

- Nah. I saw the polls had long lines.

- It is very important that you vote today, please make sure you go.

- She is going to win anyway.

- It is not that certain. She may lose Pennsylvania by 6 votes and you don't want to be one of them.

- No one I know is voting.

- Please go and vote.

- I'll see how I feel in 15 minutes.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

- You Hillary people?

- Yes. 

- Go away. I am not voting this time. I don't want to be responsible for anything of what any of them do when elected.

Knock knock knock.

- Don't you see my t-shirt? I am a Bernie supporter. Your candidate is a criminal.

- If Trump gets elected you can say goodbye to gay marriage and reproductive rights.

- I don't care.

- What if you can't get birth control pills anymore?

- I do not care! Get off my porch!

Knock knock knock!!

- Why are you people bothering me? 

- We just...

- You call me, you knock on my doors! I can't rest!

- This is the most important election of our times.

- I won't stand for this major invasion of my privacy! You are working against your candidate! Too many knocks! Too many calls! Leave me alone!



- Have you voted today?

- Oh darling, but I have been to prison.

- It doesn't matter. By Pennsylvania law you still have the right to vote.

- They turned me away today, said I cannot vote.

- It's wrong. Call this number, straighten it out. Please do it soon. Polls close in 45 minutes.

- I don't know if I'll have time, my mother is sick and I need to take care of her.

On the 156th knock I felt like that rooster who kept shouting alarm but a thick fog raised from the bog and drowned his calls and ability to see clearly.

On the bus, on our way back to New York, the news came that Hillary lost Pennsylvania. My first thought was: This is the end of my love affair with America. But a millisecond later I realized that no, this was not a love affair. This is a marriage, a commitment I am obliged to honor.

But it now seems like a marriage to a person who has Alzheimer's - do they still remember you and your precious love relationship? Can they respond to your pleas for affection?