Lest I forget
It’s about 90 minutes away from the inauguration. Eight years ago, I watched with good friends and cried tears of joy as the first black American president was sworn in. This year, I and many of my friends and colleagues are fighting depression and anxiety, insomnia and fear. We are plotting courses to fight for civil rights. We are traveling to march in protest. We are worried about tyranny, and the survival of the nation.
I hope that in another eight years, this will all seem like a brief, bad dream. I hope we won’t have to fight as hard as we’re gearing up to. I do hope so.
Also: Thank you, Mr. President, for eight years of no scandals, eight years of steady leadership. You didn’t do everything I wanted you to, but I was never afraid with you at the helm. Good luck, sir.