A Letter from Our President

At the end of this week, the United States will enter dark and uncertain times. Like millions of our fellow Americans, my 11-year-old son Truman and I are handling this time of governmental transition with a palpable sense of trepidation and foreboding.

We each have developed strategies to get through these days. Drawn to my favorite 60's folk music, I fill the house with its soothing sounds. We watch documentaries together, feeling inspired by the words and lives of our heroes. We make plans to attend the Women's March in Sacramento this Saturday. Truman can't wait to ride the train there. Knowing the power of gatherings of like-minded peaceful protests, I'm eager for him to discover this feeling too.

Still, Truman has been having trouble sleeping, and I'm at a loss as to how best to help him. Because I know he's worried enough on his own, I make a point not to discuss with my him my greatest concerns with the new administration and especially with the disastrous president-elect. Instead, I summon all of the positivity I can muster and focus on every encouraging aspect of our political lives that I can think of: we're Californians who are lucky to live in a state where our governor, senators, and representative reject the bigotry, discrimination, and lies we have heard spouted from PEOTUS. I remind him that nearly 3,000,000 more citizens voted as we did. We talk about the fight going forward and the ways we will continue to work to elect leaders who reflect our values.

Last night, as I tucked him into bed, my boy stunned me with this question: "Mommy, is there a place in Davis where we can hide out if there's an attack?" Instead of worrying about his math homework or something inconsequential and appropriate for a fifth grader, my kid was wondering if bomb shelters exist in our college town, and if his mom knows where they might be located. Truman fears that our president-elect's unstable actions could launch us into a global nuclear war. Unprepared and unequipped to field this surprise query, I attempted to allay his fears by telling him "you don't need to worry about that, honey — we're safe." But even I didn't find my response all that reassuring. His radar finely tuned to his mom's reactions, Truman didn't quite buy it either, asking, "ARE we safe? You're sure?" Sitting on the edge of his bed, I realized that he had entered a new developmental stage, the one where kids realize that their parents don't actually know everything, that they're wrong sometimes, or that sometimes they paint too hopeful a picture of the world.

And then today, just like that, hope and inspiration arrived in our mailbox in the form of a large envelope with Truman's name on it and the return address: The White House, Washington D.C. Truman had received a response to a letter he had written to President Obama the day after the election. Truman’s letter lamented the results, and reached out a hand of friendship, concern, and support to our 44th President of the United States. President Obama’s response was full of hope and encouragement, and the four included photos showed the smiling faces of some of his favorite famous people: President Obama, First Lady Michelle, and their daughters Sasha and Malia.

While Truman joins most Americans in bemoaning the recent course of events, he nevertheless has had his faith in humanity strengthened by this package sent from the White House. "The White House...I still can't believe it!" he said tonignt as I tucked him into bed. I’m sure many of his tween peers join him in his resolve to work to bring a role model back to the White House, someone to admire and, in 2024, to vote for to make sure that she or he can inspire us all with talk of hope and justice, just as his childhood hero Barack Obama did.
 
And tomorrow, we will head downtown to purchase some frames for his new photographs, and his letter, from our President of the United States.