I’m beginning to breathe easier, permit myself (don’t be shocked) the occasional smile. No, the most important election of our life isn’t over yet, thirty-nine days remain till the die is cast. Optimism is still heresy. Any confidence is overconfidence with so much at stake. We must keep striving as if our lives depend on the result – because they do.

Yet not just the polls but my guts detect – just maybe – the tide has turned, catastrophe will be dodged. Satan and his sick-infants (misspelling intentional) are making mistakes – hourly it seems; the angelic forces (yours and mine) are doing and saying what we ought. Slumberous America seems to be awakening – finally! – to our mortal peril. We the people might live to fight another day.

I hesitate even to murmur optimism after such prolonged dread. Political prisoners distrust news of regime change. Jane, my house pessimist, can be counted on to remind me of all that can go wrong. Superstition proscribes premature relief. And yet, and yet, just maybe, we might be OK.

If so – still a fearful if – what comes next? Allow ourselves an hour, even a day, of cheer and then what?

Reprieve doesn’t mean remedy. Dodging a bullet is not the end of bullets. While our panic is still palpitant, let’s commit ourselves to forestalling its recurrence.

Something – face it – is fundamentally wrong with our American experiment. The proof is how close we’ll have come to making a fatal mistake. Nobody in their right mind believes Trump and his promises will usher the majority to a happier future. A few may fare better under a second Trump regime – the rich will get richer for a while – white males may find advancement easier, as women and immigrants are remanded to their cells – but any gains will be short-lived, soon succeeded by desolation. Consult history if you doubt it.

If Trump wins, the idea of democracy will have been defeated – again. I interpose a dash between the verb and adverb in the preceding sentence to recall the fragility of our political enterprise. Democracy is delicate and intricate; tyranny tempts with seeming simplicity. Easier to salute than solve; pleasant to shuck responsibility for our result. Everybody wants freedom – until we realize the responsibilities it entails. Self-government means we’ve all got work to do, more arduous than streaming videos or lolling in Margaritaville. I spent much of my adult life being bored by civic boards, but guess what? There’s no way to make communal decision-making as amusing as a sexy whodunnit. Tedium and frustration are the price of freedom.

Let’s assume – perhaps preposterously – Americans prefer self-governance to servitude and are willing to do the work. How do we reengineer America so our wings don’t fall off midflight?

Make our democracy small-d democratic – simple as that. To the extent possible, make every citizen equally potent and every vote count. Let me have a say in who’s President, even though I live in New York. Banish big money from politics (sorry, Elon). Enforce probity in public office (sorry, Clarence). Rekindle patriotism with education. Make malicious mendacity a crime.

Reform is easy on paper and hard in practice. Can we save ourselves? I have my doubts. Capitalism may have made us too greedy and lazy to collaborate for the benefit of all. WE must whack ME – a tall order. But if we care about freedom, if we believe the empowerment of the individual is the best way to preserve our species, we’ve got to try.

November Fifth may – I say, may – give us a chance to save ourselves. But it’s only a start.