Dear Diary, the most incredible thing happened! Donald Trump was elected President of the United States. You cannot imagine how surreal that statement seems at this moment . . . which is, just for the record, 3:36 AM on Wednesday, November 9, 2016.
About a million more voters in our country believed that Mr. Trump is the right person for the job rather than Ms. Clinton. That means almost 56 million of my fellow citizens are sharing in some version of the angst and stunned disbelief that I'm experiencing.
I sincerely hope that in a few years I will read this and chuckle to myself that I was so concerned that the 45th president of our country might, at best, not "drain the swamp" but rather drive us collectively deeper into realms of swampiness we could never have imagined, or, at worst, manage to initiate a human race-ending armageddon. Haha . . . it's not funny; nor meant to be hyperbolic. I really, sincerely worry that Mr. Trump might blow us all up.
Oh, Mr. Trump, will you censor the press? Will you define disagreement and dissent as disrespect worthy of punishment? It seems impossible that this might come to pass, but then your election seemed impossible also. If I reread Eugenia Ginzburg's Journey Into the Whirlwind will it seem a cautionary tale of what may become of America? Please do not be another iteration of Stalin, or Hitler, or any other demagogue.
You've done so little to convince us (even many who voted for you) that you have the ability to do the job of president. Maybe all the things you said as a candidate were just showbiz riffs? Maybe you will throw off the charlatan's robe now and be revealed as an enlightened, intelligent, magnanimous leader. Please let that dream be the reality . . . and not this nightmare that I'm enduring while wide awake in the middle of this long and truly dark night.
