The Election Trail of Tears

This election has worn me out. I’m so tired of crying. Seriously. More often than not they are tears of hope, love and excitement. I cried behind my huge sunglasses while waiting in line at my West Hollywood polling place this morning, moved by the turnout of my neighbors both young and old. I couldn’t help but feel so incredibly lucky to be participating in such a historic election. And the tears they did flow. I cry with pride when I hear updates from my dear friend Padma who’s been in Camp Obama these last few weeks, knocking on doors in Nevada, blogging for the Huffington Post and overall fighting the good fight. I couldn’t stop crying the day I found out my 51 year-old uncle registered to vote in Colorado. My mom called me from inside Mile High stadium in Denver back in June while Barack delivered his speech accepting the Democratic nomination. I couldn’t hear a thing, but I cried. My dad volunteered as a driver for the DNC and I cried quietly as he told me stories of the overwhelmingly positive energy and sheer numbers of those at the convention. I cried after hanging up with my mom yesterday, she’d called to let me know that my brother had voted for Barack. She was crying lots of happy tears as she told me – guess I know where I get it from.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say some tears of fear snuck their way in there. Fear and frustration and anger. There was a kid waving a “Yes on 8” sign on my way in to work this morning and I yelled “BOOOO” at him. My voice was full of such anger and derision, that I almost didn’t recognize it. Then I cried in embarrassment, because you can't fight hate with hate (even though yelling at that little homophobic a-hole felt awesome). Watching Sarah Palin at the Republican National Convention confused me so much that I couldn’t find words much less tears. But once the crazies started coming out of the woodwork to support her, I cried in sadness that there is half of this country that I don’t understand at all and with whom I’m sure I will never agree on anything. And then the tears of sadness turned to those of horror, knowing that the vote of a narrow-minded, homophobic, racist out there counts just as much as mine. And that just makes me want to drive to a trucker bar on the California/ Nevada border and pick a fist-fight with the biggest guy I can find. I’d probably cry in pain if I managed to survive that.

I cried when I saw the documentary Young @ Heart a couple weeks ago. It had nothing to do with the election but it made me cry so hard that my eyes were swollen for two days. But still, my tear ducts weren’t done.

I cry when I think about the future. The near future of a few hours from now - I imagine the networks calling the election for Barack and I crumple into a ball of relief. And the far off future when my kids will ask me what it was really like during the Bush Administration and what it felt like to have Barack come on the scene. And I will tell them of the time way back in 2004 while driving home from work I listened to the Democratic National Convention on NPR and there was this guy whose name I didn’t get but who delivered a speech full of such hope and beauty that I found myself moved to tears. And that man was Barack Obama and how I felt like I discovered a band before anybody else had heard of them. So I cry thinking about a future in which I’m telling a story about a time I cried in my past. Do you see how crazy this is becoming?

I cried the entire time I wrote this post and I think my assistant is scared.

I’m going to try and keep myself hydrated,

Gretch

*my views do not necessarily reflect those of the other Big Hollywood Big Time Big Shots. We don't talk about politics which is probably why we've remained friends all these years.