DEMOCRATS
Political hangovers befall Kerry backers
Adair Lara, Chronicle Staff Writer
Sunday, November 7, 2004
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"Oh! Somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out.
When the mighty Kerry struck out on Tuesday, Bay Area voters in their Dump Bush T-shirts found themselves on a salt shore. Of the eight patients San Francisco psychotherapist Frances Verrinder saw Wednesday, seven were upset and frightened to the point of tears.
In another part of town, Joyce Renaker began "eating chocolate and speaking in obscenities."
"Where do we hang our hope? For years I've been hanging it on the election," she said. "I'm floundering, disoriented."
Vicki Cormack found her neighbor on her knees, weeping. Ron Armstrong of San Francisco is waiting for his upstairs tenant to come out of his depression so he can ask him for the rent check.
Berkeley writer Wendy Lichtman, knuckles sore from knocking on doors in Precinct 17 of Tempe, Ariz., threw out her roll of Kerry/Edwards stickers because she couldn't bear to look at it.
Others weren't ready to put away the artifacts of hope. For months Pat Kunstenaar, a Woodacre therapist and lifelong gardener, pinned Howard Dean buttons on nursing home patients while her tomato plants died. When she took her grandchildren out in the car, she stuffed Kerry bunting and signs on top of them. Now she refuses to take the 6-foot cardboard image of Kerry out of her Passat.
"He folds," she defended herself.
Whatever the voters do with their Kerry signs, they are heartsore. What now? Kerry voters seem to have responded to the defeat of their candidate in ways that can be summed up as fight or flight.
The fighters are taking anger management classes, starting Web sites with names like "Not a Mandate" and sending e-mails. Popular items include the text of Kerry's concession speech; a list of the names and ages of all American soldiers who died in Iraq, and rejiggered maps that attach the blue states to Canada.
Jackie Winspear of Sausalito has made a pact with herself to do at least one small thing each month to fight back. "Yesterday I rejoined NOW (National Organization for Women) and sent a donation to Planned Parenthood -- they will need all the help they can get." Others are joining campaigns such as Bring Them Home Now.
Joan Lester, a Berkeley author who worked the Democratic phone banks, said that as she lay sleepless at 3 a.m. on election night, she wondered how she would get through the next four years. She began planning a book: "How to Survive the Bush Years and Even Laugh." She has already talked to her agent and written 20 pages. She sounds quite cheerful.
Of those who chose flight, many meant it literally. Chris Simpkins of Oakland and his wife looked up Canada's immigration rules on the Internet and added up their assets to see if they had enough money to emigrate.
The unmarried could seek a satirical option: the spoof site www.marryanamerican.ca is trying to find them mates because "These lonely, afraid (did we mention really hot?) progressives will need a safe haven.''
The site offers discouraged liberals a chance to meet attractive Canadian tree huggers and cattle wranglers eager to give them a new home.
"I'm willing to help one of you escape from Bush-land," says Tanya from Toronto. She adds, "Being cute, wiry and dark-haired would be a plus!"
Beverly Held is moving to France. Louis Bryan of San Francisco is studying Dutch. Liz Williams of Alameda dug up her application for an Italian passport and is, she said, looking for business connections internationally.
Some who chose flight are already changing their minds, and not just because Canada is cold and New Zealand is lacking in street life.
A friend told Keith Thompson of Petaluma he's decided not to head north. "He said to me, 'sitting down and refusing to budge is one of our nation's greatest traditions. ... Remember Rosa Parks: first things first. Keep your seat.' "
Others sought solace in food. As William Thackeray said, "Despair is perfectly compatible with a good dinner."
Linda Sandsmark did something she hadn't done since her Girl Scout days. "I split a banana lengthwise, stuffed the opening with slices of a leftover Hershey's Halloween bite-size bar, and microwaved it. Cheered me up for a minute or two."
San Ramon's Brenda Watkins and her partner attempted suicide by dessert -- "Pumpkin cheesecake with bourbon caramel sauce, and pecan pie with homemade vanilla ice cream."
When the going gets tough, the tough cook. Dave McElroy of San Francisco raised thousands for Kerry by selling places at private dinner parties he gave for friends and family. That experience taught him the solace of making a contribution. He's now doing a dinner for an AIDS benefit.
Angelina Hart, who lives in Point Reyes, could not watch the election returns. Instead she cut open a pumpkin, steamed it, made a crust, and built a pie. When the pie was done she made the leftover filling into pumpkin tarts, then took out the ice cream maker and made pumpkin ice cream, which she brought to her husband, Graham Hewlett, in a bowl. He wasn't watching either. He was reading Herman Melville's "Moby Dick."
Books and movies were popular escapes. Concord law student Alex Simmons is rereading "The Sun Also Rises" by Ernest Hemingway "because it's about a guy who has his genitals cut off and that's how I feel."
Writer and performer Merle Kessler of San Francisco, who describes himself as "lapsing into diffidence punctuated by rage," is watching old Roy Rogers' shows. "Nelly belle, Bullet, Trigger!
"President Bush seems intent on thrusting the nation back into the '50s," he said. "If you can't fight 'em join 'em."
Some are trying hard to take the long view.
Penny Greenberg, who feels as if she does not belong in her own country anymore, offered, "My only consolation is that someday this planet will be a dead cinder in the universe and all the stupidity, greed, and intolerance and their sad, sad consequences will be lost to all memory."
Many find refuge in routine.
Meg Rosenfeld cleaned her house, did laundry, and caught up on long-overdue correspondence.
"Life has to go on and it might as well go on in a clean, comfortable manner!"
Marti Geiger of Sacramento can't worry about her own damp hell. She is too busy trying to set a brisk example for her dejected 18-year-old son, a first-time voter, who watched in disbelief as his side lost.
"The day after the elections, my job was still there, food was still on the table, and life resumed its normal course,'' she said. "I told him that he should rejoice in this country, the day after a defeat he could still go to his university classes, I could still toil away to pay for his tuition, and life would still go on.
"The sun rises and sets, no matter who is president."
Political hangovers befall Kerry backers
Adair Lara, Chronicle Staff Writer
Sunday, November 7, 2004
* Printable Version
* Email This Article
"Oh! Somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out.
When the mighty Kerry struck out on Tuesday, Bay Area voters in their Dump Bush T-shirts found themselves on a salt shore. Of the eight patients San Francisco psychotherapist Frances Verrinder saw Wednesday, seven were upset and frightened to the point of tears.
In another part of town, Joyce Renaker began "eating chocolate and speaking in obscenities."
"Where do we hang our hope? For years I've been hanging it on the election," she said. "I'm floundering, disoriented."
Vicki Cormack found her neighbor on her knees, weeping. Ron Armstrong of San Francisco is waiting for his upstairs tenant to come out of his depression so he can ask him for the rent check.
Berkeley writer Wendy Lichtman, knuckles sore from knocking on doors in Precinct 17 of Tempe, Ariz., threw out her roll of Kerry/Edwards stickers because she couldn't bear to look at it.
Others weren't ready to put away the artifacts of hope. For months Pat Kunstenaar, a Woodacre therapist and lifelong gardener, pinned Howard Dean buttons on nursing home patients while her tomato plants died. When she took her grandchildren out in the car, she stuffed Kerry bunting and signs on top of them. Now she refuses to take the 6-foot cardboard image of Kerry out of her Passat.
"He folds," she defended herself.
Whatever the voters do with their Kerry signs, they are heartsore. What now? Kerry voters seem to have responded to the defeat of their candidate in ways that can be summed up as fight or flight.
The fighters are taking anger management classes, starting Web sites with names like "Not a Mandate" and sending e-mails. Popular items include the text of Kerry's concession speech; a list of the names and ages of all American soldiers who died in Iraq, and rejiggered maps that attach the blue states to Canada.
Jackie Winspear of Sausalito has made a pact with herself to do at least one small thing each month to fight back. "Yesterday I rejoined NOW (National Organization for Women) and sent a donation to Planned Parenthood -- they will need all the help they can get." Others are joining campaigns such as Bring Them Home Now.
Joan Lester, a Berkeley author who worked the Democratic phone banks, said that as she lay sleepless at 3 a.m. on election night, she wondered how she would get through the next four years. She began planning a book: "How to Survive the Bush Years and Even Laugh." She has already talked to her agent and written 20 pages. She sounds quite cheerful.
Of those who chose flight, many meant it literally. Chris Simpkins of Oakland and his wife looked up Canada's immigration rules on the Internet and added up their assets to see if they had enough money to emigrate.
The unmarried could seek a satirical option: the spoof site www.marryanamerican.ca is trying to find them mates because "These lonely, afraid (did we mention really hot?) progressives will need a safe haven.''
The site offers discouraged liberals a chance to meet attractive Canadian tree huggers and cattle wranglers eager to give them a new home.
"I'm willing to help one of you escape from Bush-land," says Tanya from Toronto. She adds, "Being cute, wiry and dark-haired would be a plus!"
Beverly Held is moving to France. Louis Bryan of San Francisco is studying Dutch. Liz Williams of Alameda dug up her application for an Italian passport and is, she said, looking for business connections internationally.
Some who chose flight are already changing their minds, and not just because Canada is cold and New Zealand is lacking in street life.
A friend told Keith Thompson of Petaluma he's decided not to head north. "He said to me, 'sitting down and refusing to budge is one of our nation's greatest traditions. ... Remember Rosa Parks: first things first. Keep your seat.' "
Others sought solace in food. As William Thackeray said, "Despair is perfectly compatible with a good dinner."
Linda Sandsmark did something she hadn't done since her Girl Scout days. "I split a banana lengthwise, stuffed the opening with slices of a leftover Hershey's Halloween bite-size bar, and microwaved it. Cheered me up for a minute or two."
San Ramon's Brenda Watkins and her partner attempted suicide by dessert -- "Pumpkin cheesecake with bourbon caramel sauce, and pecan pie with homemade vanilla ice cream."
When the going gets tough, the tough cook. Dave McElroy of San Francisco raised thousands for Kerry by selling places at private dinner parties he gave for friends and family. That experience taught him the solace of making a contribution. He's now doing a dinner for an AIDS benefit.
Angelina Hart, who lives in Point Reyes, could not watch the election returns. Instead she cut open a pumpkin, steamed it, made a crust, and built a pie. When the pie was done she made the leftover filling into pumpkin tarts, then took out the ice cream maker and made pumpkin ice cream, which she brought to her husband, Graham Hewlett, in a bowl. He wasn't watching either. He was reading Herman Melville's "Moby Dick."
Books and movies were popular escapes. Concord law student Alex Simmons is rereading "The Sun Also Rises" by Ernest Hemingway "because it's about a guy who has his genitals cut off and that's how I feel."
Writer and performer Merle Kessler of San Francisco, who describes himself as "lapsing into diffidence punctuated by rage," is watching old Roy Rogers' shows. "Nelly belle, Bullet, Trigger!
"President Bush seems intent on thrusting the nation back into the '50s," he said. "If you can't fight 'em join 'em."
Some are trying hard to take the long view.
Penny Greenberg, who feels as if she does not belong in her own country anymore, offered, "My only consolation is that someday this planet will be a dead cinder in the universe and all the stupidity, greed, and intolerance and their sad, sad consequences will be lost to all memory."
Many find refuge in routine.
Meg Rosenfeld cleaned her house, did laundry, and caught up on long-overdue correspondence.
"Life has to go on and it might as well go on in a clean, comfortable manner!"
Marti Geiger of Sacramento can't worry about her own damp hell. She is too busy trying to set a brisk example for her dejected 18-year-old son, a first-time voter, who watched in disbelief as his side lost.
"The day after the elections, my job was still there, food was still on the table, and life resumed its normal course,'' she said. "I told him that he should rejoice in this country, the day after a defeat he could still go to his university classes, I could still toil away to pay for his tuition, and life would still go on.
"The sun rises and sets, no matter who is president."
