November 9, 2016. America awakened to a new day and a new president. It couldn’t happen, but it did. The improbably result sent shock waves throughout the world. The stock market took a tumble, every country in the world had watched along with us throughout the night, with varying opinions of whether this would be a good thing for us and for them.
Hillary supporters went dutifully door to door handing our literature and pleading her case. “America didn’t need to become great again; it never stopped being great.” If we simply worked together the good times would only become better.
She had the best sophisticated technology wonks could deliver, the best experts that money could buy. She had history on her side. She had more knowledge of what goes on in government than any other nominee in history. What did she miss?
He had his hair, fake tan and his ego. But he tapped into a demographic which had been passed over. The forgotten man, the disenfranchised, groups who no longer trusted America and the government. The black man who came into the office eight years ago in a blaze of hope, had not delivered the goods.
How could this bumptious bully with a terminal case of narcissism recognize that somewhere out in the vast hills and valleys of this disillusioned country a revolution of sorts was building?
It is impossible to predict what Trump’s impulse will be as president, because it will have to become in so many ways, everything he has not been; a healer, a truth teller, someone who studies the issues; and a healer who tells people what they need to hear, not what they want to hear.
As one immigrant observed: You Americans treat your country like a football. You toss it around secure in the knowledge that you deserve and will get a touchdown. America isn’t a football; it is a delicate Faberge egg; it could break.