Grieve But Do Not Despair
By SEAN HANNON

Nov. 4, 2004

My dearest friends, family and colleagues,

I am just now emerging from the shock we are all reeling from. Yesterday was a day lost to walking like a catatonic, feeling my heart beating with anguished, muffled urgency. It was an out-of-body experience as I roamed through my town, going to the market, returning videos, and vaguely remembering the last time I felt anything like this. It was on 9/11/2001. 

It’s as though a third tower fell. And this time I was in it.

We’re grieving right now for the death of Reason and Enlightenment, and the vision of America that the founders conceived for us. We are grieving (and don’t let anyone tell you not to!) for something so precious and beloved that it is almost impossible to speak of its absence.

We must grieve because of who we are. But we must not despair.  Let me tell you why.

I spent the one of the most extraordinary, uplifting days of my life on November 2nd, when I and a friend drove to Pennsylvania to help get people to the polls. We went to Scranton, PA, a town we had never been to before, and connected with the Kerry campaign there. We were not alone. Many other people from out of state had come in to help as well. We drove all over the city, getting canvasers out to neighborhoods, delivering official certificates to enable poll watchers, and rushing umbrellas and rain smocks to those in need. We passed young people on every corner with Kerry signs. Row after row of houses, in this largely blue-collar industrial town with Irish Catholic families in abundance, had large flags on the door and Kerry-Edwards signs on their lawn. We were surrounded all day by solid, workingclass people who had overcome their crippling fear of terrorism to seek a new direction for their country. During the drive back to Connecticut, we heard the news that Pennsylvania had gone to Kerry. I will never forget the vision of America I had that long day. There is still something very much alive worth fighting for.

As I said, grieve for what is lost, be brutally realistic about the terrible dark days ahead, but please don’t despair. It isn’t over. Fear is the drug that disconnects the brain. And we all know who the principal pushers and druglords are. We know the mechanisms by which they work to keep their users hooked up 24/7. And we know better than to drink their Kool-Aid.

Yours always,

Sean