Every day, I take a peek at Facebook’s “Memories” function that takes you back to whatever you posted one or three or ten years ago today. Each time, I brace myself for whatever wild ride down memory lane will ensue: smiling photos with an ex on a sunny vacation, embarrassing old statuses quoting indie band lyrics, bafflingly opaque and melodramatic teenage references to . . . what, it’s often unclear, except Feelings.

I know I’m not the only one who does this. I also know I’m not the only one on the American left whose recent memories have been dominated by my involvement in the Bernie Sanders campaign.

A few weeks ago, “On This Day” presented some selfies from last year of me canvassing in the frigid tundra of Clinton, Iowa — my fingers numb, my toes gingerly trudging over a thick layer of ice coating the whole town — and a pose with several close Democratic Socialists of America comrades next to a snowman holding a Bernie sign. Then it was a remembrance of the Chicago bus driver who stopped the bus in the middle of a busy street to pick me up, despite my being stranded halfway between bus stops, because he saw my Sanders 2020 hat. “I had to stop for Bernie!” he proclaimed as soon as I boarded.