When your candidate loses (an open letter to Jonathan N, who lost again).

My dear friend.

Where to begin? First, let’s accept reality:

You lost.

End of story. I know it’s difficult to hear. But you did. You lost. I don’t have all the numbers in yet, and if you want me to pursue a recount, I can do my best. But the result - and I say this cautiously - would likely be the same.

According to the information I currently possess, you are sitting at right around one vote. There is a margin of error, and I’ll update you once I have more info.

So once again, you will not be Charter Review Commissioner for our area.

I have written you in on the ballot for this position for the last eight years. I know the disappointment you are feeling is different than the other elections, and this might be in small part due to the fact that this is the first election I informed you that I had voted for you. Also, at no point have you been running for this position.

But I know that once I told you of my battle to seat you in the throne of total power as a Charter Review Commissioner, that it would quickly become an all consuming dream for you; a dream that just might be attainable.

I am optimistic in assuring you that next election, there is a resounding direction to go: up! My hope is to double your vote total.

I truly think you would make an incredible CRC, and I should probably spend some more time examining exactly what it is a Charter Review Commissioner does. The important thing is that you would have a title with the word “commissioner” in it, and I suspect the responsibilities differ little from that of, say, a police commissioner such as Jim Gordon (the one from Batman).

When a dream is but a dream, it can have the luxury to slowly disintegrate in the loneliness of your own mind.

But when a dream is brought to life by someone else (that would be me), and offered as a tantalizing potential reality, and when that morsel of a dream becomes an all-encompassing driving force in your life...

...then the crushing of that dream in a public manner can be...crushing.

As I write this, I am suddenly realizing that much of the public wouldn’t know you had lost, were I not posting this public letter. I have already written the words, however, and I’m not sure how I could not share them now, in the spirit of transparency, which, as an almost-public servant, you owe the public.

I know you didn’t choose to run. I know you didn’t even know you were running until a short while ago. As your friend, your supporter, and as the sole person who voted for you*, I have to tell you, quietly and firmly:

You lost.

If you had won, I would have told you, and that might have been a surprise too. A happy surprise, and of course you would have had to retire from your job and all other obligations and responsibilities in life. But this is not that. You did not win.

You lost.

You might be wondering if you will continue to have my support, and my answer is this:

Totally and unquestionably, depending on what you’re running for. I would suggest this again. We have momentum.

At this point, I am planning on writing you in again in 2024. But we will see. You might have to work harder for my vote now that you know you’re running.

I don’t know if anyone else is frustrated or anxious or angry about elections right now. But I certainly am, because I had high hopes for you, and I wanted to surprise you with them. And now I can only surprise you with a disappointment. A disappointment that I’m sure will not go away for you anytime soon.

May your disappointment not endure forever,

Your supporter,

Joseph Long

——

*plus or minus a statistical range of error