So after nineteen long months, the election is finally over. I am thankful for no more election ads, campaign signs or candidate surrogates on television. In the past 24 hours, I have listened to gracious speeches from our current President, President-elect and former Secretary of State pledging cooperation to maintain the peaceful transfer of power that is the cornerstone of our Republic.
As I write this, however, I realize that for some of us, the election will not be over anytime soon. Thousands of young people have taken to the streets to protest with many signs claiming the President-elect is “not their President.” I would say to them the same message I have said to folks who have expressed similar thoughts for the past eight years. “If the President is not your President, what country are you from?”
Are we going to stay a 50/50 country where half of the people openly root for the President to fail? Is the U.S. Constitution only words we recite?
I came upon Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If —” while reading some of coach John Wooden’s favorite poems. We would all do well to listen to its message: If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!