There are some moments in life where you remember exactly where you were and what you were doing. For me, one of those times was when I was walking up Wabash Avenue in downtown Chicago toward Trump Tower. Tired, I had taken the day off from work. My phone rang, and it was my boss. Getting such a phone call on a day off is rarely a good thing. I sighed, inhaled and answered.
He dispensed with a greeting. “Is this the coup?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Comey!” he said. “Trump fired Comey! Is this Trump’s coup?”
I smiled. “No. Not even close. That comes later, much later.”
But Donald Trump had stolen my day of peace. I turned around and walked back home.
That evening, I wrote an essay about what the crisis and shattering of norms would mean for America’s ailing democracy. I concluded