I'm Here For the Joy

The view on our television, which explains the image of the lampshade at the bottom of the photo. You can watch the entire rally at this C-SPAN link.

I had just scooped dinner into large, shallow bowls when Sherrod called from the family room.

“Here they come!” he yelled, keeping his promise to let me know. I had heard the other speeches at the rally as I cooked, but some things you get only one chance to see for the first time and this was that moment. I wanted to be in that crowd, 430 miles away. I picked up the bowls and walked to the percussion of our dogs’ nails tap-tap-tapping behind me.

The sight of Vice President Kamala Harris and her newly selected running mate, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, walking together onstage unleashed something deep inside me and I started to cry. In my younger years, I would never have admitted that even to myself, let alone say it out loud. But I am 67 now and I know all the big and small ways in which life can go wrong. When I see joy coming straight for me, I’m going to greet it with open arms.

There will be lots of punditry and analysis dissecting every second of tonight’s rally in Philadelphia. I’ve been a part of that world for more than two decades and I understand why it exists. To pretend I’m above it all now is to be like one of those former smokers who feels the need to tell every smoker how they’re going to die. Have at it, fellow opinionators. Tonight, I’m just going to take in this moment, barely a month after everything seemed to be falling apart.

“The sooner you hit bottom,” Joseph Brodsky once wrote, “the faster you surface.” Hard to argue with him. No matter how you feel about President Joe Biden’s decision to step out of the race, might we all agree that tonight could not have happened without him?

Not everyone is feeling the love, of course. We are a deeply partisan and divided country. Some Americans prefer candidates who spew rage and revenge. Watching Harris and Walz flash their joyful, high-beam smiles as they talked of hope and justice in that thunderous arena made me grateful for my choices.

“Thank you for bringing back the joy,” Walz said to Harris after she introduced him to the cheering crowd. The nerve of that guy, daring to name it. He was acknowledging an essential truth in politics. We talk about issues and candidates’ strengths and flaws, but it’s what people feel that gets them to the polls. Despair treats you like an anonymous nobody. Joy calls you by name.

Last week, I was worrying about people I love and decided I needed an extra dose of hope right this very minute. So, I dragged the four-feet-tall Christmas tree out of our basement and set it up in the family room near the television. I wrapped white lights around it and then added a string of blue ones. I just ordered a blue tree skirt that sparkles like a night sky and a blue star for the top, too. I might be getting carried away.

The first time Sherrod saw the tree glowing in the corner, after a long day of campaigning, his eyebrows crawled into his hairline. “A Christmas tree in August?” he said. Then he shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things.”

“A tree of hope,” I said. “To get us to November.”

He smiled at that, and I declared a silent victory.

Ninety days until Election Day, friends. Let us trust joy when we see it, and keep our with hearts wide open.  

P.S. A year and one day after I wrote about our dog Franklin being sprayed by a skunk, he and Walter encountered another skunk. The score is now 2-0 for the fellow with the white stripe. Unlike last year, I had plenty of de-skunking supplies at the ready. Also, this time Sherrod was home, which every neighbor within a quarter-mile radius of our backyard knew because of his ten minutes of yelling, “Oh! My! God!” as he tried to chase the dogs back into the house.

And why did he think that was a good idea?

Walter and Franklin, after de-skunking.