Feeling like this all too much? You’re not alone

And there it was, the inevitable first assassination attempt of our current political landscape.

For the first time since John Hinkley shot President Ronald Reagan in 1981, an attempt was made on the life of a U.S. chief executive.

This past weekend, 20-year-old Thomas Matthew Crooks, at one time a registered Republican, fired several shots from a Butler, Pennsylvania, rooftop overlooking the site of former president Donald Trump’s campaign rally. Trump appeared to be nicked in the ear by one of Crooks’ bullets, while his other shots killed 50-year-old rallygoer Corey Comperatore and injured two others.

Crooks was killed by return fire from, presumably, the Secret Service, though that remains unclear at press time.

In the wake of the shooting, President Joe Biden has called for calm and unity, as Trump, defiant in the immediate aftermath of the attempt on his life, prepares to take center stage at the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee.

Anyone else feel overwhelmed by all this stuff?

Politics in America has become an exhausting, perpetual stress test in which there is no light cresting the horizon, no silver lining around the oppressive cloud, no obvious hope and no end in sight.

Assuming we all make it until Nov. 5, Trump will resume the presidency, which he’s promised to use as a dictatorship…but only for one day, or Biden — recently branded a babbling mental deficient by the national media after a subpar debate performance — will hang on to the Oval Office, and then try to hang on until the end of his term in 2028.

Bet you can’t wait.

Actually, bet you’re dreading the election and every day leading up to it.

Last week, we talked about how, as a weekly hyperlocal newspaper, it sometime feels almost trite to discuss this intersection or that block party in this space when the overarching trajectory of our national politics — and let’s just say our nation — is bending so inexorably toward chaos, with all of us pretty much hating each other as the country burns down around us.

That feeling could have hemorrhaged out of control after this weekend, but it’s only the pilot who can pull out of a tailspin.

You should be concerned about greater Riverdale’s intersections. You should be concerned about the City of Yes, and you should look forward to movies in Van Cortlandt Park and the KRVC ice cream social.

Those things matter. Because the only way we’re going to get through the next four and half months is together. And in doing so, we’re going to have to control what we can, enjoy what we can, and take care of the business of which we can take care.

There’s no other way.

Many are the forces — to the domestic political extremes and in countries halfway around the world — feeding into the maelstrom of hopeless, unending ugliness confronting us almost every one of these days. Social and digital media travels faster harder than it ever has, and it takes physical effort to keep it from beating its way into four of the seven orifices in our collective heads.

All the time.

No newspaper would ever advocate for ignorance of the news, and The Press is not about to be the first. But that doesn’t mean the continuing coverage of our latest national horror or embarrassment should be the de facto guiding force in our lives.

You have hobbies. You have enthusiasms. You have people you love. You have people who love you.

Whether it’s John Hinkley in 1981, Thomas Matthew Crooks this past Saturday, or the waste of space who trolls your Facebook post tomorrow for no reason, no one should have the power, and certainly not the right, to crush, or even dim, our hope for a better tomorrow.

Do the things you can do. Enjoy the things you enjoy. Let the ones you love know it. Reach out for help if you need it. This election, and this period of our shared history, is far from over. But we shouldn’t be so far away from each other, or ourselves, because of it.

Admittedly, to say we shall overcome feels a bit ambitious. For now, let’s say we shall take it as it comes.

On our terms.