I woke on Friday, January 20, 2017, with a lingering head cold. Like many Americans, I feel like I woke up sick on Nov. 9, 2016, and haven’t recovered. Before that date, our country had spent many months fighting off a nasty infection, but, overnight, our defenses failed, and we picked up the worst bug we’ve ever had.
Our nation’s current illness is similar to the swine flu (pun intended). But the swine flu was better because it only keeps its victim down for a couple of weeks. By contrast, we’re all facing at least a four-year porcine period.
I shook off my head cold and went to work on Jan. 20, as many millions of our neighbors around the globe do every day. When I arrived at Asnuntuck Community College in Enfield, Connecticut, my work home for a quarter of a century, I marveled at how the building had changed during our recent construction phase.
The entire front of the building is being upgraded from traditional brick-and-mortar schoolhouse to a modern glass-and-steel facade. In particular, I noted a feature resembling a wing dramatically arching toward the sky high above the front entrance. It reminded me of something from “Star Wars.” Sometimes I imagine all this construction is actually a secret project to build a space ship. If so, Jan. 20 was a splendid day to explore the universe in search of a better world.
A big event took place in Washington, D.C., on Jan. 20. I chose to go to work instead. But I had time between classes and meetings to watch the live broadcast on television. I chose not to. He wants us to watch. I refuse to give him my attention on his terms. Instead, I read the transcript later. The most positive thing I can say is that it made my head hurt only slightly more as the day progressed.
President Obama finished his term by becoming the first sitting president to publish a scholarly article in Harvard Law Review. Meanwhile, the new occupant of the White House began his term by addressing the nation like a toddler who needs a nap.
My wife Betsy and I finished the day on a good note by listening to Jane Yolen (a local treasure) read from her wonderful new book of political poems, “Before the Vote After,” at White Square Books in Easthampton (another local treasure). Being in the presence of people who cultivated intelligence, creativity, and empathy, among other basic American values, helped us begin to move on from that historic downer of a day.
Saturday, Jan. 21, dawned clear and bright. I inhaled the crisp air as best my head cold would allow, and Betsy and I switched on the television to see millions – literally millions – of people worldwide marching to protest the guy who gave the previous day’s terrible speech.
We drove to town and walked down the hill from Smith College toward Pulaski Park just in time to see the bright lights of a police cruiser leading our own protest march a march that kept marching and marching, taking nearly half an hour to wind its way from beginning to end.
Betsy and I were thrilled to nestle among the 3,000 souls who added to the millions speaking out – shouting out – against the angry toddler. As we lifted our voices to join those around us, our faith in humanity was renewed. My head cold may not have cleared, but some of our sense of foreboding did.
Saturday, Jan. 21, showed me once again why I love my town and why I love my country. The protest signs we saw were smart, funny, and hopeful: “Love Trumps Hate.” “Queer Jews Against Islamaphobia.” “Hate Won’t Make Us Great.” “Kindness is a Family Value.” “Build Bridges for All Instead of a Wall.” “May We Find Our Humanity.” “Make America Think Again.” “Make America Kind Again.”
The most instructive sign displayed a single word: “Resist.”
Sometimes, when we resist illness, we get sicker before we get better. When I actually had the swine flu a few years ago, it turned into pneumonia, keeping me home from work longer than any other time in my life. In a similar way, the Electoral College victor seems determined to sicken our nation more each day.
But my January head cold has faded to February sniffles. We will heal our country with a long course of many different treatments to resist the current infection.
I’m not sure exactly what this resistance will look like, but I do know that protesting in all its forms – coming together in large groups, laboring alone, plodding on, calling and writing our representatives, practicing patience, critical thinking, and humor – will each play a part. We’ll resist even when we’re sick and tired. In fact, we’ll resist especially when we don’t feel like resisting. That’s the most important time.
In reality, my little community college isn’t a secret spaceship being constructed for our escape. Instead, it’s another way that we stay here, move forward, and work to make this planet a better, healthier place to live. That’s what I’ll strive for every day during at least the next four years.
Forget flying away on that spaceship. Let’s stay grounded here and march together.
John Sheirer, of Florence, is an author and teacher who writes a monthly column. Find him at JohnSheirer.com.