"Kerry supporters left to deal with 'blues'
"By Malcolm Ritter, The Associated Press
"NEW YORK — It's a long way from the Manhattan office of psychoanalyst Sherman Pheiffer to the Cambridge, Mass., practice of psychologist Jaine Darwin. But both are in blue states that voted heavily for John Kerry, and on the day he conceded, they heard plenty of distress about the election.
"'My patients were incredulous, depressed, angry, very frightened,' Pheiffer said.
"Elizabeth Marshall, a volunteer at the Centre County Democrats headquarters in Pennsylvania, said people there showed 'bereavement, almost. People feel that something they had, which was hope for imminent change, has been taken from them.'
"The good news, mental health experts say, is that most Kerry supporters will get over their disappointment on their own. In fact, maybe sooner than they think."
Guess they were wrong about those Kerry supporters getting over it on their own:
"Corwyn (Cory) William Zimbleman
"Tucson, AZ (formerly of Champaign, IL)
"Age 53. Born April 18, 1952 ... died June 10, 2005. Throughout his life Cory was an extraordinary artist. His artistic talent and imagination would bring awe to all who viewed his work. His works grace an LP cover and numerous books; using Computer Aided Design (CAD) he designed home and business exteriors, interiors, and furniture for several architectural firms. His talent went beyond the fine arts as he added sculpturing, woodworking, metals, and other mediums to his repertoire. Having never gained the recognition he deserved in his own lifetime his family hopes to publish a book of his works. Another of his passions was herpetology. As a child he was always bringing home reptiles. His friends nicknamed him "Snake." He even built a turtle pond in his backyard. An avid atheist, he studied the bible and religion with more fervor than most Christians. He had strong political opinions and followed Amy Goodman's radio broadcast "Democracy Now." Alas the stolen election of 2000 and living with right-winged Americans finally brought him to his early demise. Stress from living in this unjust country brought about several heart attacks rendering him disabled. Cory, a great man, so very talented, compassionate and intelligent, dedicated to the arts and humanities and the environment, will be greatly missed by his wife, family, and friends. He is survived by his wife, (name deleted); his step-daughter, (name deleted) both of Tucson; his brother, (name deleted) of St. Louis, MO; his sisters, (name deleted) of San Jose, CA and (name deleted) of Ypsilanti, MI, and his turtles Heidie, Skinhead and Studley (names not deleted because I don't think the turtles will care all that much) and many other pets. A memorial service will be held ... Cremation has taken place."
Well, now I'm worried. I'm thinking the end might be near for me too! The frustration! The stress! Here all this time I've been thinking I'll just deal with it but maybe I've been wrong. Maybe I'm a heart attack just waiting to happen. I mean, you should hear what I have to put up with on a daily basis. It's a wonder I've made it this long.
First there's Seven Year Old Question Man (SYOQM), sitting right beside me even now, my inquisitor after I specifically told him I'd enjoy his company for a cup of coffee but he must be quiet. First he wants to know when my grandmother died.
"Uh, I can't exactly remember. Give me a second." Let's see. Baby was born so it was after 2000. How old was Baby when Granny died? Was it before or after we moved? It was in the fall, I remember?"
"Did she have a black house?"
What does he mean? Inside or out? Doesn't matter, neither was black. "No."
"What color was it?"
"White?brick? White brick." I'm running on sleep fumes and SYOQM is just gearing up.
"How old was my granny when your granny died?" he fires.
I look at him blankly. "Son, honey, I don't know. I can't remember what year my granny died so I can't tell you how old your granny was then." What he doesn't know is I have to figure (OH MY GOSH, as I'm writing this — because I type slower than the speed of speech — here's another question, "Mom, what's an event?" What the hell?). Anyway, what he doesn't understand is I have to figure dates anymore based on what I was doing around that time. Then ("Why in t-ball when they get him out in first base they let him stay there even though he's out and they let him run to second base? Why is that? Cause it's t-ball?" This one I answer, "Yes." One for Mom). Then to calculate how old SYOQM's granny was I'd have to subtract her birth year, taking into account whether she'd yet had her birthday of course, from the occurrence year. It gets so confusing. Stressful, yes?
But this is just the beginning.
Last week I saw a really cool bumper sticker. It said, "If they take away our guns, can we use chainsaws?'
I really liked that bumper sticker. If I used bumper stickers, I'd have to have one. I don't use bumper stickers but still I wonder, where'd that guy get that thing? What if I really wanted one and couldn't find it? Does that seem fair to you? Seems a bit "unjust," don'tcha think?
Speaking of cars, peripherally anyway, what about people who are in front of me on our difficult to pass rural roads and they're driving slower than I want to go? Conversely, there are those who follow me who are intent on driving faster than I want to. That's pretty inconsiderate behavior, might cause undue stress on a person. Puts a whole new spin on taking your life in your hands on the highways. Pow! Heart attack, right there behind the wheel.
Do you know my Internet service provider, Netflix and the electric and phone companies want to be paid every month? Come on, couldn't they cut me a little slack now and then, like maybe in the summer time when I spend 12 hours a week commuting to, sitting at and commuting home from the ballpark in the month of June. Seems there should be publicly funded transportation available for the players too, especially for those of us who live 25 minutes away, way back on dirt roads and deer trails so I could get some sleep. I shouldn't have to pay for it though. After all, Dan and I are raising and supporting three players being exploited by "the man" (I'm hip) for their entertainment value. You know, we could use a little help in that area too. I mean, why should we have to bear the responsibility all by ourselves. Where's my village?
You see where I'm coming from? Gosh, I hope I survive today to write again tomorrow.
If not, don't cremate me. I wouldn't want to be responsible for any airborne pollutants. Just bury me in a pine box and let me seep into the water supply.
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