Once Upon a Time in America

B.C., before Covid, before 9/11, There was an "American Dream"narrative many believed. That dream followed Americans from childhood all the way through adulthood then well into the "Golden Years." We lived on a consistent message that these United States of America held a certain promise that was guaranteed by the words written into the U.S. Constitution before we were born. Before now, we took that promise for granted and literally, assuming it would stand the test of time for all time, or at the very least, for our own lifetime!

In 2016, on a frigid, snowy Sunday morning in an historic, New England church where many sermons and hymns had been heard before, a retired minister stood up unapologetically to say that although it had not been his practice to speak politically from the pulpit, this day he knew he had to. He was about to send up a warning flare like the night the Titanic did so. In vain.

In the 1960's, his mother had been an activist. She had spoken up and worked against those who tried to oppress all others who belonged to the "protected" classes* under the Constitution. She had taught her son to speak up and that brought him to where he was standing on this day before a small congregation in one of the poorest, most depressed cities in the State of Massachusetts. He told us that when his mother passed away, he discovered a full dossier of her activism assembled by the FBI. He, too, as a young man had been documented for his affiliations with his mother! That didn't stop either one of them from speaking up, out, and outloud about the injustices many Americans suffered on a daily basis.

Their words and actions, along with many others, were instrumental in making it possible for everyone to vote, regardles; making it possible for women to receive safe, legal reproductive health care in their own community; making it possible to find asylum from brutal dictators elsewhere; making it possible to become an educated citizen through local schools; making it possible to breathe clean air and drink safe water; making it possible to attend synagogue or mosque or church without fear. This was the short list of possibilities that the minister juxtaposed against the long list of Presidential candidates that Spring in 2016. Then, this retired minister living out his Golden Years, spoke like a prophet that morning:

"We thought we had addressed and resolved many of the wrongs. We were the ones who were wrong! All the hatred, all the prejudice, all the evil, had just gone into a Pandora's Box. Now, in 2016, someone has the key and is about to open it in the next four years."

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By 2024, those prophetic words were written into our American story. We American citizens were faced with this truth that it soon might be too late to speak freely, to write freely, to read freely, and to vote freely, which is becoming as precarious as in dictatorships that so many flee against all odds.

In 2025 , NO KINGS! became a rallying cry when an estimated 7 million people across the U.S. decided it was time to do something. Political scientist tell us that a critical mass is required to stop a regime from carrying on. We must reach 11 million people to successfully stop the government bent on stopping us.

Ten years after that minister's warning the truth has come to bear down on us in ways we could never have imagined.

In 2026: The future is now! Our collective hands and voices are needed to say loudly and clearly that we do not want to live in a country without hope for a better life for everyone---A country without possibilities. We want to live in a country where once upon a time the promise of an American Dream might still come true.

In the end, Pandora did open that box unleashing all that was evil on an innocent world. But, the preacher told us not to forget that inside the box, there was also Hope!

Hope is the key that opens and protects what we hold dear and dare to dream.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxb2F0l5INI

*PROTECTED CLASSES:  race, color, religion, sex (including pregnancy, sexual orientation, or gender identity), national origin, age (40 or older), disability and genetic information (including family medical history). www.eeoc.gov

Speak your mind: (202) 224-3121

The U.S. Capitol Switchboard will connect you 24/7 to the office of any and all Senators and Representatives. Most often, you will hear a recorded message asking your name, zip code, etc. Then you have the floor, so to speak!

This is an easy, painless, effective (sort of) way to speak your mind whenever the issues cause you concern. Sometimes, you will be mysteriously added to an email list from the office you called. I'll bet that email starts with a thank-you for calling, then goes on to tell you everything he/she has done for you, the voter, lately!

Not everyone wants to carry a sign with an ever-growing group of other citizens, who by the way will be out in force on March 29. If you are one who cannot or does not want to stand in solidarity physically, using your cell phone as a tool is better than nothing. And, if you choose to carry signs in solidarity, don't put down the phone. Call, and call again, during the march, after the march, and any time the Spirit moves you to speak your mind.

202-224-3121 Put it in your speed dial for future reference. You know we are going to need it!

Regarding Traditions

View from lanai by Henry

The annual pilgrimage to St. Augustine, Florida from Dublin, New Hampshire now complete, leaves me wondering whether another will come.

Tradition is the word Henry has adopted as I have adopted him as a grandson. His annual departure from home, then the return home, grounds him in a place that is not home.

A special place holds stories while a place within holds dreams. Being grounded within is a whole 'nother story - not bound by place nor time like the essence of tradition itself.

On the cusp of becoming nineteen, dreams dance in the mind even as feet stand on the homeland. Dreams, at some magical moment, grow wings to lift off from safe ground that has made all the difference when it counted most. Sometimes lifting off takes time - but like family, friends, and local community- time is on his side. When the time to fly is right, the urge to go will come. In the meantime, traditions continue to hold steady until no longer needed.

Breaks with tradition come without notice -- his midnight swim in the pool announced after-the-fact --my pronouncement that after age eighteen those root beer floats (a long-standing tradition with each grandchild) have run their course.

"Next year, I will buy you a root beer float", said Henry. That is no small thing! A cherished tradition was claimed in that expressed sentiment. Tradition is, after all, sentimental when smells and sounds and sights can be tasted and heard and seen with eyes closed from anywhere.

My Memere offered her version of root beer floats on every visit to her home--a smaller pilgrimage across town-- but nevertheless to another world that in my mind remained unchanged over her lifetime. Her tradition was in that first crunch of sweet corncakes topped with peppermint "old fashioned" candy like the last sip through a straw of root beer with traditional vanilla ice cream.

It had been a long time between bites when I found the treat again last summer in my grandmother's homeland, Quebec, Canada. I am the age she was when she passed away (!) but time -- like tradition-- exists between reality--yummy treats--and memories that linger like there is no tomorrow.

Serving up tradition is as sentimental as it is grounding. Stories baked in tradition often begin with the words: I'll never forget . . .

I'll never forget those root beer floats with my grandkids!