When I sat down to eat my pizza at Antonio's yesterday, a man came on the radio and started to sing in a stuttering voice about changes. David Bowie was mocking me. The $50 that I contributed to John Kerry had not yielded him victory in my home state of Florida or nationally. He is just another in a long line of gentleman losers, just like me. It is fascinating - yesterday, even the trees on the Main Green seemed sullen, resigned to the last moments before the snow. Most of the leaves were gone.
I hadn't noticed until after John Kerry lost, but perhaps the writing was always on the wall. If I had allowed myself to admit this fact, I might have been able to prepare more appropriately for the plunge towards reality. Upon waking, my girlfriend called me from over at our rival institution in New Haven. I proceeded to pick a fight with her. My suitemates inform me that no one cares about the day-to-day happenings of Herald columnists, but I will share this anecdote with you as an example of what not to do now that the curtain has been drawn down on four years of righteous indignation.
My girlfriend felt that the best thing to do is to cling to some hope that the next four years will not be as bad as we flip-floppers have predicted. This angered me. I responded with a burst of misplaced outrage. I derided her friends for voting Bush, I derided my state, my countrymen, our president and his band of swine. I might have mentioned that everyone that voted for Bush should be "shot into the fiery heart of the sun."
Does this sound familiar? Perhaps you yourself have had this conversation with a close friend or bitter rival. Do you feel disgusted with yourself for wanting to stay optimistic or are you ashamed that you want the next four years to be a disaster as a means of affirming your clarity of vision?
I understand. I flirted with trying to be optimistic for a few hours during my travels down Thayer Street, but David Bowie killed any chance of that optimism surviving on any longer. A friend of mine sent me a text message right after that, inviting me to numb my pain with chemicals. I declined but did bring her a dozen donuts as my contribution to the numbing process. We talked for a while, watched the Real World and came to no firm conclusion as to why we lost. Perhaps this has been your response, a feeling of helpless stasis? Well, my friends, it is time to let that go.
I say this to you, Brown University, and to our coalition of the willing: stand firm. Now is not the time for turning on each other, nor is it the time to anesthetize our minds into oblivion. We are in store for some hard times. We must resolve ourselves not to a single battle, but to a protracted campaign.
This campaign will be forged here and now, in the shadow of the 2000 election, in the shadow of the 2004 election. We must resolve to carry on this fight not only during election time, but during the course of our lives. I am not only speaking to those who go out and protest, to those who damn the Man; I am speaking to those people who quietly cling to the liberal - yes, liberal - values that I and many others hold dear.
You could feel it on Thayer Street. The guy at Antontio's was wearing a shirt that said "Free Speech." Even the comic book shop denizens were cursing the fate of our country between rounds of Magic the Gathering. To paraphrase Ralph Ellison, look to the underground and it will speak to you.
When I left my friend's room, I decided I needed a treat. I went to the costume shop above the post office, and the proprietors kindly allowed me to buy a royal purple suit jacket. As I walked back to my dorm, I reached into the breast pocket and found a brand new cigar. That's got to count for something.
Daniel Hernandez '06 can't trace time.
