Leaving Philly

The Convention is over, the festivities done, the grieving, the work, the "healing" begins. not for all; many of the young diehard Bernie delegates are sad, angry, convinced the election was rigged, stolen from them, that Bernie should have won. that he did win, if only the votes had been counted.

In my suitcase are a bunch of signs from the floor, stronger together, love trumps hate, but no Hillary signs, because at some point they stopped giving them out to our section of rowdy Berners.  Up above us, in his "box" sat Bernie, looking a little down. His wife, Jane maintained a happy face and on the third night, they stood up and waved to us as we shouted "we love you Bernie" and "Thank you Bernie."

We do love Bernie, he energized a huuuge group of youth who had given up on the "system" and many of whom had their worst fears confirmed. They don't count. their votes don't count. and they will go to the Green Party or off the grid altogether. Bernie has asked them, begged them to stay involved, work on down ticket races, keep the political revolution alive. 

I hope enough of them heed him to do just that. We have to elect Hillary Clinton in November. The alternative is too awful. Today we leave Philly. I'm not getting to the Museum as I wanted to see the Duchamps exhibit, which is one of my favorites in the world. But that means I have to come back.

But first there is a gathering at City Hall for delegates; I'll stop by then catch the shuttle to the airport. Back to the real world of campaigning for the fall races locally. Back to work.

Bernie addressed the crowd the first night