I’m filing this the morning before the evening of the Great Debate. I suppose I could rush my thoughts into print to share over today’s coffee, like an endless parade of fellow pundits, but that would be to sacrifice reflection for reaction. Any instant response is necessarily a cliché; it takes time for experience to settle into the cerebellum and cure into a savor of one’s own. Wordsworth did not write about those daffodils when the sun was bright, but alone and sad,
on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
The debate between Vice-President Harris and former President Trump will be felt for generations in the history of mankind, as a stone thrown in a pond ripples irresistibly toward the shore. History often takes us by surprise but not this time. Most cognizant Americans and much of the world will be tuning into these ninety minutes either to root for their favorite or assess who’s the safest bet for mankind. America, still, by a long shot, is the most powerful nation on earth, and our President our mightiest person, and these two candidates for leader represent futures incomparably diverse. For me, as for you, I’m sure, it’s not a close call, but my aim this morning is not to drub again that tired drum, but to share the shudder of this momentous moment.
Seldom in a lifetime do we experience such life-or-death suspense. In making personal decisions – whom to marry, what career to embrace – we might feel awed by an immensity of responsibility. Consequential choices force us uncomfortably to define ourselves: we will be forever the person who took one or the other of the “two roads” that diverged in that “yellow wood” and we sense, without knowing the details, our choice must “make all the difference.”
My disagreement with so many of my compatriots about Trump may be the shock of my life, second in impact only to my father’s death when I was sixteen. Of course we all would be repulsed by such loathsome conduct, coupled with such arrogance and incompetence. If ever there was a no-brainer!
I was wrong and remain wrong – the polls as of this morning are “neck and neck”. Not just a few crazies, but half of America adduce from superabundant evidence a conclusion the opposite of – and incompatible with – mine. What was the matter with them – or with me? The essential premise of my being – and basis for my earthly efforts – is we’re all alike deep down, and that if we can locate our commonality we can form community and live in peace. I doubt that now. I fear humans, deep down, are hostile, vicious, immune to truth; we’d rather erase than embrace; and nothing will manage us but force.
This election pits those polarized visions: optimism versus pessimism, love versus hate, hope versus dread, us versus me. Two roads diverge – who do we want to be? Beneath the manufactured confusion of a campaign, this is our choice.
Seasick with suspense, exhilarated with excitement, cringing with panic, I balance on a bongo board between hope and dread. In my personal life, a few times I have felt this way – twice my psyche cracked under the strain – but never about a communal event. Yes, politics have mattered to me – passionately – ever since JFK was shot – but never this much.
It’s scary privilege to be present at such a climax. Tomorrow I’ll know better who I am.