Hillary Clinton, you sure don't make it easy.
Since 2005, I've written $7,100 worth of checks to the person I considered most qualified to be the junior senator from New York and, later, president of the United States. In February, I was elected a Clinton delegate in the neighborhood-level caucuses, and looked forward to trying to be appointed a delegate to the Democratic National Convention.
It would have been my second Democratic Convention. In 1992, as the volunteer press secretary to the Wisconsin delegation, I led a march of happy cheeseheads up Fifth Avenue in Manhattan to the National Republican Women's Club. We stood and chanted slogans at a Republican "truth squad" that had set up camp there. It was great, goofy fun, and the Daily News thought so, too.
I remember well the feeling on the last day of that convention, which nominated your husband and Al Gore. "I think we're actually going to win this election," I told my old friend, who as head of the state delegation had invited me to New York. "I don't know if I'm ready to be on the winning side!"
Oh, what times those were! And given what success your husband produced, and your impressive record in New York, it wasn't exactly hard for me to support you. My sister-in-law, a grocery clerk whom I brought to a fundraiser here in Seattle and who sat and chatted with you, is still in your corner. She'll be crushed when she reads this column.
Sen. Clinton, I can no longer count myself in your ranks. I've decided that, barring some stunning revelation, Barack Obama has earned the Democratic nomination, fair and square. More importantly, I've decided that your campaign's tactics have crossed a line that should never be crossed. I no longer want to be associated with your effort to become the Democratic nominee.