I’m writing this because I wanted to make sure that some day, when my grandchildren ask you about the first woman president (hopefully) and it turns out it was indeed Hillary Rodham Clinton, that you’ll be able to point them to this letter I wrote you decades before.
Unless, of course, they’ve invented hologram storyteller devices and I get to do that. If that’s a widespread thing before I kick the bucket, then definitely show them that and not this because this was written while you were watching your new Thomas the Train movie while I eyed the liquor cabinet and a bag of hammers and pondered which one I wanted the most.
Yesterday early voting started. It was day one. People thought the 58,000 plus of us in our county that showed up yesterday to vote were damned goofy, but if I was going to cast a historic vote, I was going to do it on the very first day. So make sure they know that their grandmother hauled her cookies to the closest polling place and stood in line for 25 minutes to vote, and then she ate a taco because it was a nod to some asinine comment someone made when they were advocating for Donald Trump.
Yeah, I know. History probably isn’t any kinder to Donald Trump now, when you’re reading this, than the present was while I was writing it. And he probably moved on to more chuckleheaded things (I’m trying not to cuss because you’ll be reading this to my grandchildren and I don’t know if I’m going to be the kind of grandmother that will need constant earmuffs reminders shouted out when she talks) after Election Day. I just hope they weren’t done in the White House.
Sidebar: If you’re reading this in a dystopian post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland bunker, please tell my three-eyed grandchildren that I tried to do my part. I did. It’s not Grandma’s fault that you eat MREs and can’t play outside anymore because Comrade Trump pissed off the entire world so badly that they simultaneously pointed their nukes at us and shot them all at once.
Side Sidebar: I began praying around September that you would start occasionally eating tacos if Trump won so that you would at least be able to tell your children how delicious tacos were when they were allowed in the U.S.
Anyway, now that the formalities are in place:
Dear Grandbabies Who Hopefully Live in a House and Not a Bunker:
Yes, I voted for Hillary Rodham Clinton. I am a child of Arkansas, where much of my life was directly benefited by HRC’s influence and passions. I have had occasion to meet her, to know many of the people who know her best, and the worst falsehoods told about her aren’t even half as amazing as the best truths.
She made sure I had insurance. She made sure my school didn’t suck and I could be smart enough to annoy the crap out of people. She was a shining example that you could raise a child and do important work and if you didn’t mind dealing with some completely ridiculous people in your life, you would be happy and successful.
(I best not talk about Bill. He was your favorite president as a baby and I don’t know why because babies don’t know beans about policy, and you were too young to understand about how he couldn’t keep it in his pants. But Bill isn’t running, and hopefully his wife just sends him off to do charity work with George W. and Jimmy Carter, who will not put up with that. You know he won’t. Don’t read this part to my precious grandbabies unless you’ve already explained about consent, which you should be talking about at an early age and if I find out you don’t, I will haunt you with a rape whistle for the rest of your life.)
I voted for sanity. There were third party candidates, and we have friends and family I love that voted for them. They voted for sanity, too. So many of us looked at Trump and went, “What the ever loving heck is the deal with this guy and how did anyone think this was a good idea?” And we voted accordingly.
Although I have talked a lot about what I hope didn’t happen if Trump won, I should also say this: I hope, as always, that whoever wins ultimately does the best things for the country. Our country has survived surprise attacks, wars, boy bands, Ernest movies, the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression (plus a few recessions). We can probably survive Trump. I just hope we don’t have to.
So yes, your grandma voted for Hillary Clinton, hoping that she would not just be the best and first female president, but also one of the best. And that’s really what a presidential election is about, at the end of the day: The hope that the next peaceful transition of power yields peace, prosperity, happiness and liberty for all. No matter who wins, know that your grandma did her part to hold the people that make the larger decisions for our country and state accountable.
And I hope some of that rubbed off on your Dad.