Last Stand for Democracy

A letter to an ex.

Photograph: Brendan McDermid/AP

Dear Ellen,

I realize we haven’t spoken in something like 36 years, so, hello! I hope you’ve had a great life so far. Anyway, I’ll just cut to the chase. We’re looking at the potential end of democracy as we know it in something like nine months, and I made a commitment to myself that I would do everything conceivable and legal within my power to prevent such a tragedy. And one thing that hasn’t changed after all these years is I tend to do things that are totally unexpected, which might upset certain people. But I really do mean well.

A couple of weeks ago I came up with a plan called Last Stand for Democracy, or LSD for short. The idea is that everyone who cares about preserving America as we know it makes a list of everyone they know in any of the swing states and makes a personal appeal to each of them. I see that you live in Florida. First, my sympathies. However, the oddities of your adopted state and our personal history aside, you are today perhaps more important to me than ever.

Including Pennsylvania, Arizona, Nevada, Georgia, Virginia, and North Carolina, this is my 37^th heartfelt letter, text, or phone call so far. I will admit that I’m getting near the end of my list and I was more than a little wary about writing this one  I know things with us didn’t end well, and I could have done a better job smoothing everything out. But the bottom line is I care enough about America to put all that behind me, and I hope you do, too.

I remember what a big environmentalist you were, and I suspect that hasn’t changed. For a Reaganite, you were quite a naturalist. As you probably know, in a second term Donald Trump will not only eliminate hundreds of longstanding, critical environmental regulations protecting our waterways and the air we breathe, he will gut the EPA itself. Kind of like you gutted me by sleeping with Dave. It would have hurt no matter who it was with—coming as it did the very same day I borrowed the money to put the deposit on a ring—but your doing this particular deed with someone I considered my best friend really blindsided me. To take the bureaucratic analogy a step further, if I was the Environmental Protection Agency that day I would have been watching you set fire to the Federal Triangle and throw dioxin on the flames.

Anyway, you were always a big on national defense and global stability, and it goes without saying if Trump is for some ungodly reason allowed back in the Oval Office, NATO will cease to exist and Putin will proceed to take over not only Ukraine but much of Central Europe as well. Which is really a lot like the time at Thanksgiving 1987 your whole family verbally attacked me for supporting the decriminalization of marijuana. I needed you to stick up for me for like ten seconds and you sat there eating your linguini and smirking. I had no way of knowing about your cousin getting high and getting into that head-on collision, and if I did I guarantee you I wouldn’t have started the whole discussion in the first place. But the point is we had a deal beforehand and you just left me hanging. Sound familiar?

But we digress. This election is about basic human rights. As in reproductive rights. And as you certainly are aware, Donald Trump and the Republicans handed the Supreme Court to a bunch of rightwing sadists who have effectively eliminated a woman’s dominion over her own body. And although you wound up carrying Dave’s illegitimate baby to term (and we’re all very glad you did!), I think it was important to you at the time—as a libertarian-leaning member of the center-right—to know you had options. Even though it was just a little odd that not long after we had discussed holding off on having a child for at least ten years to establish our careers you not only went and had Dave’s baby without hesitation but also sent baby shower invitations to every last one of our mutual friends.

And by the way, how is Dave Jr. doing? All grown up I’m sure. My guess is he’s going through it a bit these days because I happened to see his name on the list of people charged by DOJ for storming the Capitol on January 6. It must be rough for him being a “political hostage.” Well, I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I remember that time back in the day Dave Sr. was hard up for cash and ready to steal that catalytic converter, and someone (three guesses) hailing from a slightly less toxic gene pool talked him out of it.

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But that’s all water under the bridge. This election is about freedom. The kind of freedom I gave you. I never asked you questions. Never interrogated you about where you were the other night or really anything else for that matter, and look at how you rewarded me. What I’m getting at is under a second Trump term (and third, and fourth . . . ) we will likely live in a surveillance state and experience the kind of suffocation you experienced with that dude you were with right before me, what’s-his-face. He actually had you tailed once if I remember correctly. He was practically a stalker, like some of the MAGA goons who threaten poll workers. And I thought that after him I would be more or less a breath of fresh air, but apparently not!

I would rather, however, look forward and focus on our common fate as Americans. The only way we can all have a future worth living for is if we maintain and enhance our voting rights. The very basis of our social compact is one-person-one vote. Point of reference—when we were together it seemed I was outvoted all the time. By you and your friends, you and your mother, you and your shrink, and sometimes just by you having a meltdown and screaming at me. Is that the kind of country we want to live in for the next ten, twenty, thirty years? I had trouble pulling it off for six months. Looking back I don’t even know how I did it.

I’m glad we had this little talk. We need your vote. Especially in that backward swamp of a state you live in. Jesus, every resident of the Sunshine State should have to cough up a hundred bucks for foisting the creepy likes of Ron DeSantis on the American scene. And I’m elated we can rise above our small, insignificant differences from the distant past to join together and save our nation while it can still be saved. Although we couldn’t be saved—and to be honest, from time to time I still miss that “thing” you used to do—now is the time for all good men, and women, to come to the aid of their country or something like that. It goes without saying I consider you “persuadable.”  You were certainly persuadable when Dave took you to his parents’ summer bungalow back in ’87.

Now don’t get mad, but I have one more little favor to ask. Remember Jeff? He had a crush on you in eighth grade, but who didn’t? Anyway, Jeff lives in Nevada now with his common law wife after a very messy divorce. I think he owns a little gun shop out there and belongs to one of those megachurches. He’s on my list, but if I had to guess he’s still a little pissed at me for denting his ’83 Camaro. I think my reaching out to him might do more harm than good. So could you reach out for me? I know you have a way with words and a way with a few other things. Okay, thanks. Maybe when this nightmare is all over and the old gang has saved the day at the polls we can all get together and attend a Taylor Swift concert.

My best,

Rich

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Stop Encouraging Republicans To Secede