Be the adult in room no matter who wins

Buffy posted on Facebook that she had voted, and I hit the “like” button. Buffy and I have known each other since Oct. 3, 1994, when we swore to uphold the Constitution of California.

Buffy does not know how I vote, because we still have a secret ballot in this country, but she has a good idea. And that’s not the way she thinks that a law enforcement officer should vote.

I don’t know how Buffy votes, because we still have a secret ballot in this country, but I have a good idea. She did, after all, post a picture of herself at a Trump rally.

So it’s likely that Buffy and I cancel out each other’s vote. And we still like each other. That’s how it should work.

Crazy Mike said, “All three of my children voted this year.” Didn’t say how.

I replied, “Thank you for raising ’em right.” And we settled back to a discussion of how many caraway seeds to put into soda bread. That’s how it should work.

Crazy Mike and I have known each other since Nov. 4, 1998, the day that I got assigned to midnight watch in the San Bruno jail. Twenty years later, we don’t post about global warming on each other’s Facebook page. We don’t tweet that the other one is stupid on immigration. On the days we disagree, we talk human to human. No, most of the time Mike posts pictures of how far he ran that day, and what old shoes he found along the way. I try to be enthusiastic about his perspiration, but he knows I’m only faking it.

Don’t mix business with politics. Nurse Vivian never told Dr. Rizzuto whom she voted for.

Winston Churchill once said, “The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.” Thus Crazy Mike and I have worked together for 20 years without me knowing which personality he has voted for. But I do know that he likes horseradish in his mustard and he hates the word Frisco.

The election is over, and now can we get back to work? Better yet, can we get back to compassion? Don’t celebrate that your candidate won. Don’t mourn that your candidate lost. Celebrate that this is a democracy, and even if you don’t like the senator or mayor or president you got, you can change that in a few years. If you work for it.

“You have to remember one thing about the will of the people: it wasn’t that long ago we were swept away by the Macarena.” — Jon Stewart

I write this column a few days before the election, so I do not know if the readers of this column will wake up to a blue wave or a red wave. I know only this, that when I wake up on Wednesday morning, I am the adult in the room.

And I am telling you to go back to the kitchen table. Invite a neighbor over for a cup of coffee. Talk about issues. Not people. Not parties. Not personalities.

And it’s at that kitchen table that you find out what really matters. Aunt Sunny can’t come to Thanksgiving dinner because she’s on dialysis, and that’s why we care about health care. Aidan, God bless him, is doing a science project on the effects of poaching on endangered species. Because we talk about it over macaroni and cheese, the Fisher-Paulsons care about whether it is a good idea to cage a chicken.

The outer, outer, outer, outer Excelsior is not a blue state. Not a red state. Some days, it’s a red, white and blue state. But most days it’s rainbow country. One more quote. Abraham Lincoln: “I am a firm believer in the people. If given the truth, they can meet any national crisis. The great point is to bring them the real facts, and beer.”

With that in mind, my favorite night of this season was Friday, Oct. 26. Aidan’s teacher, Ms. I., and her boyfriend, Mr. I., met Brian and me at Win Garden for pot stickers, pepper beef, garlic string beans and the ballot. Using only our chopsticks for emphasis, the five of us worked out every single proposition. The only issue we agreed completely on was that we hated daylightsaving time (which explains why it is so dark out this week!) When we hit an impasse, we ordered a glass of wine, and toasted the republic.

Believe it or not, my fortune cookie read, “Your wisdom shall bear fruit.”

Aidan learned that democracy was supposed to be a circus, not a blood sport. So maybe when I grow up, I can be just like Crazy Mike, and say, on the Wednesday morning after, “Both of my boys voted yesterday.”

Crazy Mike and I have worked together for 20 years without me knowing which personality he has voted for.