A good cry.

My apartment this morning is as quiet as a city apartment (on a low floor) ever gets.

My wife is out at an appointment.

My 25-year-old daughter who has moved home for a while is still asleep.

The cleaning woman is silently not dusting in my bedroom--thirty feet from the living room, where I write this.

Whiskey is tired, and silent by my side.

The window is slightly open and a too-cool breeze occasionally wafts through my apartment.

I am crying for our country.

I am crying for my daughters' future.

I am crying that we have arrived at this horrible riven place.

The truth is, the American Civil War never ended. 

The forces of intolerance, meanness and cynical disregard for the rights of man have scored a victory.

What can we do--my daughters ask me.

I have my thoughts on this.

We have to double down on being kind. We have to be nicer than we've ever been. We have to be good people. We have to believe that in the end being good makes the world better.

We have to love our families and friends. Support them how we can. Encourage them. When darkness and depression assert themselves, we have to help chase them away.

We have to be brave. We have to speak out against the abuses that are to follow. We have to stand up to the mobs of xenophobes, racists and know-nothings.

We have to find peaceful ways of insurrection and civil disobedience. Even if your favorite football team is playing a big game, don't watch Fox. Don't let the bad guys get rich off your eyeballs.

There will be more things we can do.

We can keep speaking out. Keep reading progressive liberal books and writers and newspapers if you can find one.

Keep truth alive.

Keep saying no.

Don't withdraw.

Fight how you can.

Stand up.