the end of America

The following italicized remarks (and the title of this post) were spoken by the 45th President, at South Dakota’s 2020 Mount Rushmore Fireworks Celebration in Keystone, South Dakota on July 3rd, to 7,000 unmasked fans, with a dais of dignitaries, including his third wife. These remarks are peppered throughout this post to highlight many efforts (or rather his team of writers’ ideas and the Republican party dictating his campaign) and tactics to win re-election next November, while not discussing unemployment which is at a record high, or COVID 19 when infection cases are running right off the graft in the US. This man is on a course to bring the end of America, not a prosperous, generous, healthy, and united America, nor the one that would make my ancestors proud, but a place of fear and hate and worry for all of us who understand fact and science and reason. But I’ll let him tell you that.

 

Seventeen seventy-six represented the culmination of thousands of years of western civilization and the triumph not only of spirit, but of wisdom, philosophy, and reason.

And yet, as we meet here tonight, there is a growing danger that threatens every blessing our ancestors fought so hard for, struggled, they bled to secure.

Our nation is witnessing a merciless campaign to wipe out our history, defame our heroes, erase our values, and indoctrinate our children.

Patrick Campbell's Flag

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resistance

It was the early 1970’s. We were all angry. About the war and the draft, about gender inequity that stalled every woman’s career, about the gas lines due to the oil crisis in the middle east, about the crippling inflation, about having to wear ties or even bras. We grew our hair long, listened to album length tracks, questioned those in authority, forced a resignation from a corrupt President, and sat out in student strikes all across this great nation. Resistance happened from family’s living room to the illustrious Senate floor. My own father, who worked his way up from the floor boards of poverty faced a mob every night at dinner with his young adults who questioned his authority, his decisions, his motives, even his tomorrow. Thankfully for us under his care he came to value our resistance. Not easily. It meant he had to listen. Temper his own self. See the big picture. He too questioned. Sought truth. He read the newspapers, listened to other’s opinions, remembered history, and understood the value of debate. Where is that America? Where is the freedom of speech we wave about when we think it will benefit us?  Anger we have, but let the voices ring.

1971

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memories make the memoir

Church was like my foot. It was always there and my mother made sure we were properly scrubbed up for the event. Nothing prevented our going. Even when my father announced that until the Catholics returned to Latin he would not attend mass, we did. Even when the entire hour became an uncomfortable ritual of handshakes and peace kisses, we went.

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