This is a much shorter letter than the one I wrote to Hillary Clinton because I primarily just have one thing to say:
Man, you better write that tell-all.
I’m serious. After the dust has settled and you’re a few terms removed from the White House, tell us how you really feel about America. I’m willing to wait. I won’t forget this moment and I will read it whenever you feel enough time has elapsed for you to be able to really put your truth on paper.
Our democracy is based on a peaceful transfer of power, so I know you’re hurting right now with the thought of handing the keys to the Oval Office over to Donald Trump. He has been waiting for this moment since you roasted him at the White House Correspondents Dinner. He wants to take the keys to the country from the hands of the man who humiliated him in a room full of powerful people, and he’s now going to do it with that smug look on his face. Please don’t punch him. I know you want to! I want to see you do it! But you can’t.
You’re the first Black President and possibly the last Democrat in the White House for a long time. You can’t actually refuse to hand over the keys. You can’t put them in a box and Fed-Ex them to Donald so you don’t have to see or touch him. You physically have to peacefully transfer power, it’s going to take everything in your spirit to do it, and I just need you to hold on to that fire and disgust and put it on paper.
Go ahead and write the book now and then release it in 2036 or whenever. This country never appreciated you. You had the most obstructionist Congress we’ve ever had in this country. You were insulted and degraded throughout your Presidency. The economy rebounded, healthcare was passed, the gays got married, the air was getting cleaner, and our reputation was repaired around the world, and you were still treated like the help. Now the one guy who had the biggest part in treating you in a way that no one has ever treated a white President is the guy you have to give the keys to.
We miss you already. No one will ever be this cool, this calm, or this collected at the helm of a country determined to cause its own destruction. I know you like the idea of America much more than you like the current realization. You have to be just as disgusted with half the country as the rest of us are. I can hear it in your voice and see it in your face these past few months.
Write. A Book.
(And as soon as you finish, let Samuel L. Jackson make an audio recording of it just in case he’s retired or dead by the time the country is ready for it to be published.)