For us, it usually begins with whiskey. You come to the door after the funeral, pondering combined thoughts of mortality and potential. You set your things down on the back bed and come forward to make your toast to the dead. He may have been a bastard, but he was our bastard. She may have been a gossip, but the secrets she told about the family only mirrored how much she loved and focused on us. This is a time for remembering the best, for laughing, crying, mourning and reforging.
It is no secret that I think we’ve shuffled off the mortal coil of the Democratic party, and others have made it plain that they see no death- or at least expect a resurrection in three days time. That’s fine. We’re all family and all welcome. This is a time for remembering and renewal.
So if you want to join the wake, or awaken new resolve for democracy, grab a glass and add your toast beneath the fold.
Tell us your earliest and best memories, explain where you think we are going, how you expect your lives will change. What do you hope for- and what do you fear?
Let this be a space where we think of something higher than retrenching. Remember pride? Remember hope? We all want that again, although we may differ on how to get there. It is my hope that by remembering the best we all come out with a renewed vision and energy to take us there.
