I went to see Hillary Clinton today in hopes of accepting her (expected) ringing endorsement of her competitor and being able to move on as gracefully as she managed to.
Not so much.
I made a friend there, as we were crammed like cattle against the third-floor balcony railing. She reminded me of Blythe Danner, so I’ll call her that.
The moment Hillary emerged onto the stage with Bill and Chelsea in tow, I started bawling. Absolutely, unbridled tears. I have so much faith in her; I feel like we could be in such good hands with her; I stand behind pretty much everything she believes in. And when Blythe mused about the possibilities, I felt nothing short of broken.
We clapped, we cried, we applauded her statements about barriers and biases about female candidates.
We cheered when she said, “There are no acceptable limits or acceptable prejudices in 21st century.”
We were overcome when she said, “To those who are disappointed that we couldn’t go all the way, it would break my heart if in falling short of my goal, I in any way discouraged you from pursuing yours.”
There are a thousand more things I want to say, but I’m trying to figure out how to go out tonight when all I want to do is keep crying. It’s a good cry, though. I don’t know that I have ever had my heart truly broken by a man, but this election may be my biggest heartbreak to date. I’ve got to let this all out somehow, sometime, and no time like the present.
Of course she gave her obligatory rah-rah lovefest toward Obama. Blythe wondered whether he would be at the rally (as some Hillary campaign volunteers said they heard he might come).
Blythe wondered if he’d make the V.P. nomination in front of this crowd and say it is she. I said he’d probably make it in front of his own supporters, and I assure you, NONE of them were in the National Building Museum. The cheers were about one decibel level above the boos when she gave him her endorsement.
And Blythe made a good point, that, “It would be SUCH a classy move on his part to give her the V.P. nomination in front of her supporters. That would show he really is committed to her ideals and the 18 million who support them.”
She was a dream, I tell you. It was so good to not have to defend every single statement I made. Or, it’s not even so much that I’ve had to defend my beliefs — I’ve instead had to deflect asinine comments from people who didn’t have an eighth of the passion for their candidate that I did for mine.
Blythe and I shook hands, wished each other good luck and parted ways. Both of us left with tears in our eyes. I personally cried in the bathroom for a good 10 minutes.
I walked into Urban Outfitters before going home, and there was a song playing that had the lyric “What were you doing in 1992?”
I personally was watching Hillary’s husband on a stage in the Market Square area of Pittsburgh, and I was getting totally jazzed at everything he said. Hillary and Chelsea were off to the right of the stage, just the way Chelsea and Bill were today.
My grandfather took me and my shiny new 18-year-old self and my shiny new voter registration card to vote for Bill in 1992. That day is burned in my memory — it was the first grown-up thing I ever did, and I am quite proud of it.
My grandfather would have voted for Hillary. He would have been proud of my passion — of hers, too.
So, I get all the kids being jazzed by Barack Obama, much like I was jazzed for Bill when I was 18. But all those then-18-year-olds like me count too. Hell, we’re at least donating to our candidate’s campaign with our own money.
I won’t say Barack ran a better campaign than Hillary. He just happened to run the one that got to the winning total first.
I’m not sold that voting for the “yes we can” candidate is something “yes I will” do. I may still write her in. It all depends on the VP nomination, and it sounds like he is looking at some boring old white men for the job. Yawn.
HIllary said we’ll always find her on the front lines, fighting for everything she believes in. I suppose that means she wouldn’t accept a Supreme Court nomination or anything else that might keep her from directly representing the people.
But I admit, I felt good knowing that she isn’t going anywhere. She’ll be OK. It’s just people like me who believed so vociferously in her who are going to need some time to let their hearts heal.
Blythe had said it best. Once Hillary was done speaking and the crowd was going apeshit, she said, “She is extraordinary, isn’t she?”
And I had to nod because I was too overcome with emotion to speak. “Extraordinary,” I had managed to eke out. “No other word for it.”