PAINT WILL STILL MAKE MAGICAL COLORS. BIRDS WILL FLY NEAR LAKE ERIE. BOB JAMES & ROBERT FREIGHTRAIN PARKER WILL STILL SING FOR THE BUFFALO BLUES.
My absentee ballot was cast days before the election as I would be flying back to Buffalo on Election Day. No lines to worry about or figuring out what time of day would be best. My schedule, like all of yours, is very busy. I got home by 1:30 p.m. and Nancy walked in after 5:00 p.m. I was tired from changing planes and she had more than a full day with elementary-age students.
We agreed not to put the TV on until around 9:00 p.m. We were hoping to avoid any more hype, stories, profiles and mostly those ever-reliable polls. In a strange, yet similar sort of way, it was like Super Bowl Sunday. We didn’t need a review of every Super Bowl going back to the Green Bay Packers – Joe Buck wasn’t even born yet so we got to avoid his superfluous yapping about nothing. We figured the reporters would be all warmed up on the competing stations and the fringe ones, too.
As if it was kick-off time, we turned the 60″ Vizio so we could see everything including the replay of a reporter calling a state before a competitor. You understand, don’t you? Their lives, then their jobs depend on who calls Ohio first and prays it holds up with no bent corners on the ballots found the next day. It’s 9:02 and the screen with all its red and blue TV station stages, whiteboards, touch screen technology and a very puzzled analyst tries to relay the numbers, after they have been double-checked and triple-checked, to a high rise table where totally baffled reporters look at each other hoping someone will s t r e t c h the conversation or go to commercial break. My wife and I look at each other as if to say, “are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Trump has a considerable lead. We sigh and say, “we’ve seen this before plus there’s always California and it’s only about 6 o’clock there, right?”
Suddenly, like unpredictable weather coming upon you without warning, it happens. Hurricane brewing in Florida, flash flooding in Ohio, black ice in Georgia, mudslides in Michigan and forest fires in Pennsylvania. Armageddon? You’d think so if you watch any of the TV stations. Trump’s numbers are becoming too hard to catch. No longer are reporters looking to call any state in fear of getting dirty looks right through the TV set from the Hillary Team or Donald Trump’s camp claiming the “rigging” is starting. Oh, what a night!
At 11:00 p.m., Nancy said, “nothing’s happening until morning on Good Morning America” – now without Billy Bush (no, not related to them). Then 2:00 p.m. comes and goes and Nancy’s still right, so I call the great state of exhaustion the winner and go to bed.
The next morning at 7:00 a.m., I find out the reporters, probably in unison, declared Donald J. Trump the next President of the United States. Deal with it America. You won’t lose your right to speak, propose new ideas, volunteer to help veterans, plant trees, support advancing women’s causes, help turn around the obesity epidemic, read the sports page to an old fella in a nursing home, run for political office, volunteer at your school, break the stigma of mental illness or start a company. The point is to move on and do something productive to improve the human experience. Isn’t that how we became a great country? God bless America, land that I love.
OK folks, who’s with me?
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