Last Saturday, I was asked to consider dilemmas that were perplexing two of my friends. Once I thought about them, I realized that I faced a third and related one in my own work. In other words, if I could help them, I could also help myself. Unfortunately, for the first few hours, I was clueless and could see myself beginning a journey toward what I call being politically clinically depressed. And it was an unusually tough bind, because I’d given myself a mid-week deadline to respond to my friends’ requests.