America

The Painting on the Wall – VOTE

/ howardshapiro / 8 Comments

Version 2We came to Gerona to walk the old city and visit one of the most intact of the Jewish ghettos in Europe. But it is the painting on the wall outside of the bridge that leads to the enclosed city that welcomed me and highlighted my visit.

The ghetto dates from the 12th century and you can see narrow streets, the last Rabbi’s house, a few stones with indentations for mezuzot, a Jewish museum and bookstore but no Jews. That is much of the story of Jewish sites in Spain and Portugal. (Although we did meet the Chabad Rabbi of Gerona – a different blog, a different time).

In the 12th Century, Gerona housed one of the most important schools of Kabbalah in all of Europe and one of the most renowned Rabbis of Gerona was Nahmanides or the RAMBAN. He was an author, philosopher, kabbalist, scholar, activist. One slice of his life: Called in July of 1264 by King James (Not the Bible one) to debate with the apostate, Pablo Christiani whether Jesus was the messiah or not in what is called the “Disputation of Barcelona”, Nahmanides was awarded 300 gold Dinar by the King who proclaimed it the “best defense of an unjust cause”. King James had promised Nahmanides freedom of speech but the Dominicans disagreed and initiated legal proceedings against him for abuses against Christianity. Even though the King extricated him from the pending trial, Nahmanides left for Jerusalem a few years later. It was there that he wrote his famous letter to his son, which also brings me back to the painting on the wall.

The painting has everything to do with voting and the Catalonian referendum on independence from Spain. But for me, it was a call to arms and a call to speaking out and an echo bouncing off the centuries. I don’t know what Nahmanides knew about his son but his letter talks about humility, distancing yourself from anger, and greeting each person with kindness and respect. Its language is not my style but as I filled out my ballot this morning, his words reverberated in my pen. It was so easy to let my frustration and anger at the politics of deceit and deception color the broken lines I had to complete in order to indicate my choices. And I knew that this was not the way for change to happen.

I needed to vote and you need to vote and your friends and neighbors need to vote. But we also need to lower the rhetoric, speak softer, allow for differences, greet even the people we disagree with gently. Listen to how Nahmanides  ethical challenge begins: “Get into the habit of always speaking calmly to everyone. This will prevent you from anger ….” There is too much anger; there is too much rhetoric. We need to find a way to disagree effectively and it is hard – Nahmanides knew it was hard – he told his son to read the letter weekly.

One of the ways is to vote.

Written the first day of early voting, Florida October 22nd 2018.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blue Grass

/ howardshapiro / 3 Comments

bluegrass

We were at a blue grass concert the other night in an outdoor venue. It was one of those Western North Carolina evenings with thunderstorms popping up and dissipating as the night air began to cool everything down. The Steep Canyon Rangers were playing with a full orchestra behind them, great evening, great music.

The fireflies were out, hovering two rows in front of me. I first thought it was a floater. (An age related change in your eyes that causes shadows that glide in front of your vision.) I only have one. (So far, my Ophthalmologists tells me.) At first I saw it maneuvering in and out of my vision constantly. But like almost everything, you get used to it. (Except of course now as I think and write about it.)

They flashed independent of the music. They created sparks of light, softly and chaotically announcing there was more there than there was there. It was the evening after the Supreme Court announced that the administration’s travel ban on Muslims was constitutional. The banjo is quarreling with the violin. Their dueling creates a vibrant sense of contentious harmony. It is wondrous; it is beautiful. More fireflies find their way into my field of vision. I feel they are speaking a truth to me about my country and its future and I am concerned.

It isn’t that I disagree with every policy. It is that I hate the triumphalism and the language and the promises that all of this is going to solve all our problems. Keep them out; Build a Wall; Ship them back immediately – no recourse to judges or courts. We don’t have enough judges anyway: Where will we get them, from the barbershops?

Which brings me back to harmony. The mandolin and the bass each sing their own variations of the melody. But there is one song; there is one vision; there is one united presentation. And the differences between them are celebratory. You can feel the strength that is building as they each tell their own story and interpret the anthem in their own unique way. I don’t get that with this government. I don’t sense that from the way our leaders situate their personal beliefs and/or their political positions. It is as if everyone is playing his or her own song and no one is looking out for the band.

The fireflies are still doing their thing. I’m a symbolic thinker. Are they going on or are they flickering off? And what about the lamp beside the golden door? Perilous times.

 

 

 

 

Shame

/ howardshapiro / 17 Comments

fence immigration

I wish I had a solution. I wish I could speak with authority about the subject. I wish I felt more confident about writing this blog on immigration and the current policies of the Administration. But I don’t (have a solution) and I’m not (confident).

This is what I know. Something is wrong – radically wrong, from the inside and the outside. Tearing children away from their parents as families cross our southern border asking for asylum is cruel and unusual punishment to me. I wonder what is happening on our northern borders? I don’t read of similar policies in airports on either coast. How much of this is an extension of selective immigration from what are perceived as national population pools that will benefit a narrow America First agenda fueled by politicians who quote the Bible?

I am at a loss to understand how this Administration lives with itself. Yes we need to have a coherent and comprehensive immigration policy. Yes we need to have border security. Yes we need to stop the flow of drug, human, and whatever else traffic into our country. AND Y ES we need to live up to basic human values of caring, of love, or compassion, of acceptance. There are lots of verses in the Bible. I’m not averse to quoting them myself. But lets be honest. You can probably find one that fits whatever political mood or flavor you are trying to promote. You can definitely find stories and verses that need a lot of contextualization and interpretation and taking them on face value raises more questions than answers. But in my mind the overarching sense the Bible imparts (both Hebrew and Christian) is caring for the downtrodden, compassion for the stranger, justice for the widow, love and kindness for the orphan, looking forward to a world redeemed, participating in the work of salvation, finding a place in your heart for those on the margins.

And I could go on. What is mind blowing to me is that instead of trying to solve this problem, the leadership we elected is playing a blame game. (At least today.) It’s the previous presidents’ fault. It’s the legislation enacted by the Democrats. It’s sad and it’s shameful. That’s what it is. Even his wife is embarrassed. Fix it. Separating families, children to the right, adults to the left isn’t making America great again. It’s making America complicit. It’s making America callous. It’s making America cruel. If you are like me you feel powerless. It is all too complicated. Sometimes you don’t have to consider all the intricacies of every situation. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut feelings: Shame.

But don’t stop there – call congress; connect with your representatives and senators; vote, vote vote.

 

 

White Gloves

/ howardshapiro / 15 Comments

Memorial Day 2018It is a good day to try to write. Morning has broken but the skies show no sign that there is sun lurking behind the cloud cover. The clay tiles of the roofs across the street are outlined against a grey that is of no particular color or interest. Everything is still on this Memorial Day 2018, except my memories.

Maybe the article in my “inbox” from The Forward propels them this morning. Reposted from Veterans Day two years ago, “Profiles Of Our Fallen” obits 37 Jewish men and women who died defending you and me over these past ten years. The image accompanying it is of hands gloved in white folding an American flag horizontally cuffed with the blue sleeves of a US Army dress uniform. I know those sleeves with the gold braid. They take me back to my responsibility as the Jewish Chaplain of Arlington National Cemetery when I served full time duty at Fort Belvoir in Virginia. That was the year before I was posted to Vietnam.

It was a strange and disturbing time. The beauty of a military funeral with its elaborate rites and rules played out against the rolling green and white of Arlington. So many stone markers standing at attention quietly witnessing the tragic sacrifice of what could have been and of what we will never know. I played my part, proudly. It was the least I could do for those who will never know another tomorrow. I played my part, religiously, not one hundred percent sure, event then, what the ancient words consummated. This I knew. If almost nothing could heal, at least these Hebrew formulas bound memory to eternity and offered a glimpse of a blue sky that seemingly goes on forever.

They weren’t all killed in action; they weren’t all too young to die. Some were career officers who died what we call a natural death. But too many were. Standing at an open grave you know many things. You know this could be you. You know this will be you. You know that for all we think we are, we are but dust and ashes, grass that grows and withers, a faded flower in the wind.

We owe so much to all of them. There is almost nothing we can give them to repay the debt, except perhaps: A life well lived, a life of caring; a life infused with giving; a life of service to the causes they died for. I ask one minute of your time today or tomorrow or whenever you read this. No matter what your challenges, you are blessed to be living in a country that still cherishes your right to choose how you will live your days. Think of them and remember.

In my head, the bugler is playing taps. They died for our freedom. It is that simple and that complicated. We owe them this country.

 

 

Who’s In?

/ howardshapiro / 7 Comments

3 billboards

This is what greeted me on my phone from a New York Times feed yesterday morning. Deadly shootings in schools — that is, the killing of children in sanctuaries of learning — have become a distinctly American ritual, the rote responses as familiar as a kindergarten recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. It is the day after the day after the school massacre in Parkland, Florida and 17 funerals have already started.

Everyone I speak to is disheartened, sad, frustrated, angry that all our politicians do is offer platitudes. Is it ok with them that the new normal is that the American Flag flies at half-mast? I have posted and shared on Facebook cute and clever cartoons that Nicholas Cruz isn’t an immigrant, isn’t Muslim, signed petitions, sent money ….

But I haven’t done this:

https://www.cnn.com/2018/02/16/politics/three-billboards-rubio-trnd/index.html

Open the link. Even if you have to copy and paste it. I’m in. I have no idea how much a billboard cost – but imagine billboards all across America. Something’s got to shake up our elected officials. Something has to move the needle. I believe in the power of prayer to inspire us to live and act on our values. I believe in the power of prayer to help us console the bereaved. But prayer can become platitude. And our politicians pray for the victims. How about this? “Who rises from prayer a better person, their prayer is answered.”

Help our society become better. Remove easy access to automatic rifles. Tighten background checks. Do what has to be done to make our society safer, our schools sanctuaries of learning and not fear. Raise our flag to wave proudly across a nation that values life over guns.

So I mean it – Who’s in?

https://www.cnn.com/2018/02/16/politics/three-billboards-rubio-trnd/index.html

Or I’m open to a better idea – but doing nothing is not an option.

 

 

Starbursts and Super Bowls

/ howardshapiro / 3 Comments

IMG_6782I am sitting outside on this partly cloudy beautiful South Florida Sunday morning. It is February and the tree with green leaves and purple undersides is just beginning to initiate its annual firework display of flowers. I looked up its name on the Internet so that I can look intelligent to you. It is officially Clerodendrum Quadriloculare, described as dark and sultry.  For those of us who can’t quite pronounce or remember the Latin name, it is also called Shooting Star or Starburst. You can prune it so it is tree like with one trunk or let it grow like a bush and watch it spread. I let it do both. That is until my HOA decides it is intruding on their right of way cutting it back from their side of the fence. But that’s a different story.

It is also Super Bowl Sunday. I thought the skit on SNL last night was hysterical, pitting patriots (small “p”) of Boston against the Mid-Atlantic colonials of Philadelphia. It is Philly cheese steaks against New England clam chowder – tough choices for heart-healthy diet. Not that I am religious about it – I look for any excuse, any holiday, any occasion to eat a Hebrew National Pigs in Blankets.

Tonight will be no exception. I guess I am just not a purist. I guess I just don’t believe in strict and fierce absolutes. I guess I am willing to admit that I am not always right and I am not always consistent. And that’s ok. And if I don’t follow football rigorously the rest of the year but want to pretend to be a loyal Patriot’s fan today, I am entitled. Emerson said, “Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.”

And so I will sit in front of the TV tonight and route for my “home” team. I am participating in a national phenomenon hyped by the NFL and NBC. By the time some of you read this, we will know who the stars of the evening are: the commercials, the QBs, Timberlake or just us – all of us brought together, all of us setting aside our differences and tribalism, just enjoying this modern gladiator spectacle in living color.

But I don’t want to end without coming back to my starburst tree. It is a marker for me. It indicates a fundamental truth of nature. We are destined for growth. We are born to flower. Exploding stars of red and white petals set against a blue endless sky are in our genes. It gives me hope that someone in Washington will see this too. This nation is too good for games. This nation has too much potential to be held hostage to politics. I want to be proud of those who govern and lead me. And if it all is a game: Then play it with honest referees and stick to the rules. Make me proud you are in my backyard.

Vision, Mr. President

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

I woke up to white fog. We have no window coverings in the bedroom so the fog was immediate and the trees were covered with a luminous mist. I like to think we were sitting in a cloud. So I did my morning stuff (including a mug of coffee) and stepped outside still in my sleep clothes and said this is what that ad on Facebook was talking about when they were trying to sell me a $99 course (in three installments) on how to take effective and creative pictures with the camera on your phone. Think of the foreground and consider the lighting – the soft light of early morning is more forgiving than a bright sunny day.

So I took some pictures, trying to remember and execute what the guy in the video said. I’m posting two. (I’ve never posted two in my blog before). They are kind of self explanatory – but a word or two. sunflowers fogThat’s a wildflower garden, well actually it’s where the vegetable garden was until this year when for a variety of reasons, we (the gardener and I) agreed to throw some seeds out there and let the zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes, squash and blue potatoes rest.) We added sunflowers cause they are Eileen’s favorite. It’s kind of wild looking and unkempt but every morning there are new colors and something else has taken center stage. The other is my favorite birdhouse that we bought at the Pickens Flea Market one summer. I love it hanging in that trio of trees, a silent sanctuary of sorts. I like to think it’s safe haven for those who need it.birdhouse

Peace, Fog, Clarity, Vision, Beauty, Haven, Heaven. What a weekend we had in our country; the torch lit marches on Friday night in Charlottesville by white supremacists carrying poison flags of hate; the Saturday demonstration ending in violence and death; the sad sad aftermath of a police helicopter crashing, burning, killing two officers charged with keeping peace and order; the racist chants; the anti-Semitic slogans; the failure of our President to speak with moral clarity or authority. It took three days for him to name this evil. The sun burned off my fog faster than his reaction. By the way, I’m not living in a cloud anymore.

I see him for who he is and if my perception is wrong and he is not a racist than stop pandering to those who are and be the voice of America that we can be proud of. Leaders lead – lead us to healing; remind us of the beauty of this land and its people of so many stripes, stars and colors. Lift our spirits and give us a vision of what a softer tomorrow can look like, one where the morning fog glistens in the rising sun, gently watering the ever changing beauty of this garden we all share. Be our sanctuary of reason and teach us to hope and not despair. Yes, be strong when strength is called for, but not mean, vindictive, venomous.

The morning mist and fog is good for a garden, not for my President:  Vision, Mr. President; Clarity, Mr. President; Honesty, Mr. President. Hope and Direction, Mr. President.

 

 

 

Winter Is Coming

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

img_5143

Winter is coming. I mean that literally. We spent Thanksgiving in the mountains of Western North Carolina and I had to use the defroster this morning to de-ice the windshield. As the days grow shorter, the leaves have returned to the earth. The sun is weaker; the night darker; the stars brighter and the trees declare there is strength in standing tall and firm against the shortened day.

Winter is coming. I mean that figuratively. It is the motto of the House of Stark in the Game of Thrones. The Lords of the North listen to the warnings that ride the whirling winds constantly vigilant of what might be coming. They know from darker days what can happen. How the laughter and the light can turn; how the life and love and liberty we presume to be inalienable can be snatched and taken. It is a time of watching, waiting, preparing, assessing: Are dark days coming?

Almost every email I receive from a variety of progressive, inclusive, liberal organizations I have supported in the past are warning me. They tell me that now more than ever, I need to donate to their cause. I hear their plea. The signs are less than positive and that is coming from this writer who the day after the election wrote give the President-elect a chance. The office just might make the man. And it might. It’s just that almost every appointment seems to confirm our fears. It’s just that we are correctly sensitive to images of white men raising their arms in prototypes of “Sig Heil” salutes. And I want my President whether I voted for him or not to condemn what that represents in the boldest, strongest, virulent form. It’s just that it hasn’t, yet – made the man.

Or I am not convinced. I don’t want to think it’s the end of the world, as we know it. After all lights are twinkling in the malls and shopping centers. Cars are being driven south in caravans a pilgrimage to the sun. We are doing everything we can to light up the dark. This waiting is hard.  It is not like other times.  Can’t just go through the day thinking the news will take care of itself. Had an email from a friend: If “they” set up a national registry for Muslims, we should all declare ourselves Muslim. I worry it is Vienna 1936.

It’s so easy to project the worst. We Jews do that well. Winter is coming. Time to get dressed for the cold.

 

Red Seeds of Anger

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

red-map

We played bridge the other night and one of the times when I was dummy, I found myself at the kitchen sink opening a pomegranate and wondering if that is the right verb. You cut an apple; you peel a banana; you slice a peach or a pear. At any rate; I was knee deep in pomegranate juice hoping I wouldn’t stain my shirt as I was pulling and pushing out the succulent seeds hidden and tucked into the off white membrane. There were so many seeds; Jewish tradition counts six hundred and thirteen, each one corresponding to a Mitzvah, each one urging us to bring harmony and goodness into this world.

The juice was ruby red like the map of the United States on election night. By the way, you deseed a pomegranate; I just googled the instructions. It says to do it in a non-reactive bowl under water, minimizing the chance for permanent damage. That of course is my fear: that the seeds of anger and hatred that have been sown by the bitterness of the political campaign ending with a November surprise will stain our country. That the sweetness of the juice that surrounds these seeds will never realize their potential to do good and cleanse us with their anti-oxidant powers.

Am I being irrational; am I being an alarmist?  I feel I am allowing my disappointment to cloud my thinking but then again it is not all up to me. It is up to our President-Elect. Donald Trump will be our 45th. We have been in this business of electing presidents for over two hundred years. Some have been builders; some have been healers; some have inspired us; some have changed our very direction; some have been place holders; some have taught us to dream; some have shepherded us through times of terror and danger; some have disappointed; some have surprised. Time will tell.

You may call me naïve but until proven otherwise, I am choosing to have faith that the office will make the man. I apologize if that sounds a little condescending. He certainly understood the mood of so many in our country who were “done” with Washington. He certainly tapped into their disappointment, their anger and fear. He saw the unhappiness and unrest that the rest of us dismissed and ignored. So he is smart and savvy. He has proven that he has the ability to galvanize people in ways we never imagined. He has demonstrated that he understands America better than we do. Shame on us!

I am also choosing to hope that he will find a way to unite us. There is no place for triumphalism here. (OK – you can have your five minutes.) But what the election showed us is a fractured country. What the election showed us is a deep-seated anger. We need to heal. We need to come together. We need to mend. We need a government that governs and is of the people, for the people and by the people. That is our task and that is my prayer.

 

 

One No Trump

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

one no trump

There was a great article by Nicholas Kristof in the Sunday Times a week ago. It is called “A Confession of Liberal Intolerance”. He writes about us liberals, and talks about how willing we are to listen to all kinds of points of view, want to bring everyone to the table, no matter what their color, gender identity, national origin, faith, culture, unless they are conservatives, and especially conservative (read Evangelical) Christians.

It resonated with me in this political season. I mean we were so concerned with the rhetoric of the Republican Right and we along with practically everyone in the Media so underestimated Donald that we couldn’t believe that we would wind up with him as the “presumptive nominee”. I secretly believe that somehow the Republican Party will come to their senses and there will be a miracle in Cleveland. I have so far declined to sign my name to a “Rabbis Against Trump” movement saying to myself, it is too early, too soon, this too shall pass.

I also fantasize that Mr. Trump will stop the act and show us that he is more than a great showman and the best barker in the circus. He will become Presidential as they say and address the real issues facing this country without resorting to name calling and hitting people in their under bellies. I would like to be faced with ideas that challenge me even if I can’t agree. I think Kristof’s point that we learn from those who challenge our assumptions and beliefs is right on target. There is nothing wrong with an honest argument. I would like to know more about how we effectively control the immigration issues without a wall and who will pay for it. I am curious how his policies would grow the economy, raise the standard of living, put people back to work, make America great again, cut taxes and keep businesses from fleeing our shores.

I would like to be faced with one of the fundamental challenges the Rabbis faced when compiling the Talmud. What do you do when people disagree; when principles clash; when all parties believe that they are right and their reading of what is right for America is the one and only position to take seriously? You look at motives; you examine the core; you seek out basic truths. The Rabbis taught: “Kol Machloket…. Every argument for the sake of Heaven will in the end be of permanent value, but every disagreement not for the sake of Heaven will not endure.” They tell us it is ok to disagree; it is ok to have your principles challenged. We learn that way.

Eileen and I play bridge with friends – one of whom is way more bridge savvy than the rest of us.   She says that one no trump is the hardest contract to make. The cards are usually fairly evenly divided and no one has said very much so it is hard to even guess who has the strong cards and what is in each player’s hands.

Not a good way to pick a president.

I Am Not Usually Political

/ howardshapiro / 8 Comments

DemsRepubsI am not excited with our presidential political process yet. I should be; there certainly has been enough drama and the spectacle has unquestionably been anything but flat. But it’s been a show. The real issues that touch people’s lives and that impact our culture and society are back stage and haven’t broken through the fourth wall.

Not that they haven’t tried. I think there have been six Republican and five Democratic debates so far. The sponsoring network tries to make the run up and the follow up compelling, but somehow I don’t feel connected. And I’m not being partisan here – this sense I have crosses both party lines.

I have tried to figure out why. It is no secret to most people who know me that I was energized eight years ago, excited in “the change we can believe in”. It is just none of the candidates work for me. Conceptually, I would love to see a woman president. With some embarrassment I say, I would love to see a Jewish president, no matter how unobservant. With a little bit of trepidation, I timidly say I would love to see a young and bright candidate whose family are recent immigrants. But nothing is motivating me, until this morning.

Front page of the New York Times, next to a picture of two feet of snow in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, there is this headline. “Bloomberg Is Considering 3rd Party Bid.” My heart soared. I read the article through carefully. Is there really a chance that a knight in shining armor can come and save this our beloved country? Is there really someone who can galvanize all those people like me who are sick of politics the way it is being played out and don’t want to vote for any of the current runners? Is there hope?

Here comes the caveat and my need to back peddle a little bit and make sure I am being clear here.  These words are not an endorsement of Michael Bloomberg. They are a testimony to the need for someone in this political process to understand me and people like me: life-time democrat who believes in an agenda firmly rooted in America’s promise in the potential and right of every individual to live up to their highest potential no matter where they were born, how much pigment they have in their skin, what their religion, what their faith. To know that I am looking for a president who can unite this country with a practical vision that encompasses a plan to address a crumbling infrastructure which for me means bridges and roads but not just physical ones: bridges between races, roads that promise pathways to the American dream for the poor and underprivileged, beltways that force politicians to face the real problems of gun violence and terror both home grown and imported. I want a president who can bring us together and make me believe in the American political process again.

Am I expecting too much? Am I an inveterate and impossibly naïve dreamer? Am I looking for the messiah? You tell me.

 

Freedom from Want

/ howardshapiro / 8 Comments

UnknownIt is the day before Thanksgiving and I am gearing up for my food prep schedule. Went over the menu last night and it passed muster with one of our more discerning guests. The next issue is the timing of the feast between football games – although I think we got that covered with apps and all that stuff.

I love Thanksgiving. It is everyone’s holiday. You don’t have to go back to the saga of the Pilgrims and Native Americans. You don’t have to buy into the Norman Rockwell painting of an idealized gathering with an impeccable bird and “perfect” all American family.  We are more diversified than that and maybe always were. I love that no one seems to be complaining in his picture. Everyone is happy and in my mind no one is standing in a line or camping out in the parking lot of some mall in order to get the best Black Friday deals some of which now begin on Thanksgiving itself.

Some corporate team probably made the decision that jumping the gun to open Thursday night would bring in more money. I feel badly for the people, who have to stock the shelves, work the cash register and say, “Welcome to Walmart” (or whatever the store).   I liked it better when Thanksgiving was a commercial free zone and we could concentrate on giving thanks for what we have not what we want. In my language, we are losing the sense of the sacred. Or maybe the sacred can no longer last a whole day. And we can moan and bewail the state of our society or we can go with what is and celebrate without judgment.

This is what I mean by the sacred: when I feel connected to something outside of myself – my spouse, family, friend, a tree, a bush, a flowing stream, a child learning how to crawl, the smile of a stranger passing by, the night sky, the universe within, God. When my heart announces itself with a sense of warmth, affection, love. When I know it beats not just for my survival but so that I can do good and make that proverbial difference, no matter how little, how big.

So I am thankful today and try to be everyday. But the truth is it is easy to forget and just get up in the morning, brush your teeth, figure out what’s for breakfast, check your calendar and you are off and running. Thanksgiving focuses me and I try to appreciate the blessings of family, of food, of love. It focuses me and I give thanks for this wonderful and flawed country we call home. I think especially how many challenges we have before us in this dangerous world we are trying to share. I think of the Thanksgiving metaphor and how as Americans we need to pull together to face this newly darkened tomorrow.  We have done so in the past and I pray we can find a way to gather around the same table and bless each other again.

The Rockwell painting above is called: “Freedom from Want”. May we all be so blessed.