Month: October 2024

My husband and I purchased our first home in nineteen seventy five. I was twenty seven years old at the time and actually felt that we were a bit late in moving from an apartment that we rented to the joys of home ownership. We found a cute place that had been impeccably maintained by its original owners. It boasted three bedrooms and one bath with a nice den in addition to the kitchen, living room and dining room. We were over the moon to be able to close the deal for nineteen thousand dollars. 

It was a great neighborhood with the most wonderful people living there that anyone might ever imagine. We joyfully brought our two daughters who were five and two years old to the place where they would spend their childhoods. They had their own bedrooms and lots of other children with whom to play. We were over the moon with happiness and that joy would only grow over the years. 

Our yard was enormous so we had plenty of room for renovations from time to time. We added a large den and enlarged the two smallest rooms by moving walls and making one space that included another bathroom. We used the old den as a bedroom as well and found a way to move the washer and dryer from the garage to the inside. Best of all we gutted the kitchen and created a modern and beautiful space for cooking and gathering with guests that made our home seem perfect. 

I loved that old house so much that I might have stayed there till the end of my days but the general area had gone down and I worried that we might one day find ourselves among strangers as our neighbors saw the same things and moved away one by one. We were lucky to net a huge profit on the sale that allowed us to move quite easily to our present home. Such was the way of home buying for most of my generation. 

Things have changed dramatically for my grandchildren. Even in Texas, which is known for its affordable home prices, that little house that was once ours in now valued at close to three hundred thousand dollars even though the neighborhood did indeed take a fairly bad dip. Some streets and homes look fine but others are rundown and in need of massive repairs. For most young first time home buyers the market is not inviting anywhere in the United States. They are more often than not renting apartments until their thirties and usually need two incomes to even think of purchasing a house. 

In some places like Maine the shortage of homes is in a state of crisis. As senior citizens live longer and healthier lives they keep their houses for much longer. When they do sell, the price tags and far beyond what many young people are able to afford. The cost of housing has risen way faster than salaries. Some people even in their forties and fifties have never owned a home and most likely never will. 

It saddens me to think that the young people that I know will have a much longer wait before they will be able to purchase a nice home with good neighbors. Some may possibly never reach a moment to have a home of their own. Somehow that American dream is growing dimmer and dimmer for countless individuals. 

So many children will endure uncertain futures simply because they are segregated from the best schools and safest neighborhoods because their parents are unable to purchase homes in the more popular areas. Surely there is a way to rectify the situation if we get experts to consider alternatives. Perhaps the answer is in creating smaller starter homes on enough land to renovate later or maybe we create programs that improve schools and conditions in older neighborhoods that have gone into a slump. For starters we also need to watch for investors who buy up houses, turn them into rentals and do little to maintain upkeep but nonetheless raise rents constantly. 

There really is no place like home and I can’t help but think that there is an innate longing in people to have a place where they feel comfortable. It does not have to be a mansion with all the bells and whistles as long as the roof does not leak and the doors and windows are secure. 

We may also consider working together as families. There is no reason to think that only a nuclear family should live together in a house. Our ancestors understood the value of having many generations under one roof. Such arrangements worked out well for everyone as they shared the limited resources that they had. Maybe that will ultimately be a doable answer to the housing problem that we face. 

I think that Kamala Harris is right in making housing a priority if she becomes President. It’s long past due for somebody to at least attempt to do something. Jimmy Carter has been building home for the poor but right now not even the young middle class is able to find what they need. We should be helping them as well.  

Maybe none of my ideas will make a difference. I’d still like to think that we are at least willing to begin brainstorming ideas. Nothing gets done by ignoring the situation.

I just finished reading Fred Trump III’s book “All In The Family.” It is a touching story of one of the most famous families in the world written by a man who interacted with the main characters from the time he was born. The story initially focuses on his father, Fred Trump, Jr., the one time golden boy of the family who was supposed to fulfill the destiny of leading his family forward. Instead his life ended in tragedy while his younger brother reached the heights of power.

Fred the third weaves a tale as American as they come in describing the first Trump who came to the United States from Germany hoping to make his fortune in the wild west after avoiding his military duty in his home country. Instead of finding gold on the ground the first Fred Trump whom the author calls Fred Zero created wealth with hospitality and services that sometimes included looking the other way as gentlemen and women got together in his rooms for something other than conversation. 

After earning enough to start a family the first Trump brought back a wife from Germany and eventually settled in New York City where his Son Fred Trump, Sr. was born. There Fred Sr. met the love of his life. a pretty immigrant from Ireland who had grown up in dire circumstances and travelled to America in the hopes of a new and better beginning. She was a delightful girl and she and Fred Sr. quickly fell in love, married and started a family that would result in five beautiful children with Fred Jr. as the most likely to run and eventually inherit his father’s real estate business which had grown into a source of wealth for the family. 

Fred Jr. was a charismatic and likable fellow but it soon enough became apparent that he cared little for the business of creating and selling real estate. He loved to fish and fly planes and be with his many friends. He dreamed of becoming an airline pilot and along the way he met a lovely stewardess and fell in love. To his dismay the family disapproved of all of his lifestyle decisions. They let it be known that his middle class wife was beneath him and that his dream of being a pilot would only make him a taxi driver in the sky. Nonetheless, Fred Jr. married the woman that he loved and attempted to launch the career that he thought would make him happy. 

Fred Jr. buckled under the pressure and ridicule of the family and began to drink heavily. Just as he was about to earn his wings as a TWA pilot he reported to duty in a drunken state and immediately lost his job. From there he seemed to devolve into an off again on again state of sorrow peppered with lots of drinking. He had two children, Fred the third and Mary. According to his son he was a good father when the demons were not haunting him. He eventually agreed to work in the family business in spite of his feelings that the work was not enjoyable in any way. 

Fred Jr. tried and tried to do well but he and his father seemed to always be at odds. He found solace in alcohol again and again eventually driving away his wife who had once loved him deeply. He was a tortured man who ended up living in his parents’ attic where he became more and more ill. He died when he was just past forty years old leaving his son, Fred the third, to grieve for the father that he had always loved. 

Fred the third graduated from college, found a job of his own in real estate, married and began his own family. He clung to his grandparents and aunts and uncles because he saw them as his lifeline after his father had died. He enjoyed Sunday dinners with them and sharing milkshakes with his grandmother. He played golf with his uncles and believed that he was as loved as any member of the family. 

Fred the third and his wife a had two very healthy children, a daughter and a son. Then his wife became pregnant with a third baby. Before the boy was born Fred Sr, the grandfather, died. The family asked Fred the third to deliver the eulogy at the funeral. He poured his heart into crafting the words that he hoped would describe his love for his grandfather and for the rest of the family. He was so sincere in capturing the essence of Fred Sr. that there was not a dry eye in the church after he spoke. 

Shortly thereafter Fred the third’s second son was born. At first he appeared to be a big healthy child but soon enough signs of terrible problems began. The boy, William, would have severe neurological problems that caused seizures and developmental disorders. They would continue for all of his life, requiring home healthcare, treatments, medications and too many visits to the hospital to count. 

What Fred the third did not know when he spoke at his grandfather’s funderal was that his aunts and uncles under the influence of his Uncle Donald had conspired to have their father change his will. It had always been written that when Fred Sr. died his wife would receive one half of his wealth and the remaining would be divided evenly between his five children. In the event that one of his children had died, the share would go to his grandchildren from that branch of the family tree. 

Donald was dealing with massive debts from his failed businesses and his recent divorce from his first wife, Ivana. He was concerned about where he was going to find the money to protect his holdings. His first attempt was to add a codicil to his father’s will that would have made it impossible for anyone to take his share to pay his debts. Unfortunately for him Fred Sr. would not sign. The next move was to convince first his siblings and then his father that giving a one fifth share to Fred the third and his sister Mary would be a disaster because their mother would no doubt take charge of the funds and use them for her personal welfare. The others agreed and then with pressure Fred Sr who was in the early stages of dementia also agreed. Fred Jr’s share of the will was taken away from his children in one fell swoop. 

The story continues through the death of Fred the thirds grandmother and his uncle’s rise to the highest office in the land. Fred the third loved his family and worked hard to regain their graces. It was more important to him to have them in his life than to let bad feelings fester over money. His focus was on family and most especially his disabled son. The final break for him came when his Uncle Donald told him that he should just let his son die and then move to Florida. In that moment Fred the third realized the depth of depravity that had festered in the Trump clan. For the first time he felt compelled to tell his side of the story. 

It is a good read. I cried many times when turning the pages. I wish Fred Trump III and his family all the best. I think that he is a kind man who lost his father all too soon and struggled to stay close to the family that meant so much to him. It is a shame that they did not seem to have the same kind of love and compassion for him. It is a saga of how the members of his family became the kind of people who had no compunction in cheating and ignoring two innocent young people who needed their love and support but instead were coldly ignored.

No man is an island, entire of itself. —John Dunne

Each of us is but a simple thread in the grand tapestry of humanity. Without the varying colors, stitches, diameter of the strings the creation is dull, simply a kind of utilitarian blanket. With the many differences we become a work of art, something stunning and precious. We need each other even when we falsely believe that we do not. 

Think of your families and the great variety in which common DNA has come together to change the colors of the eyes, the textures of the hair, the facial characteristics and fingerprints that are unique to each of us. Then consider the talents that we each bring to support the welfare of our familial group. If not for our differences we would be doomed to seeing each other as only mirrors of ourselves. Our lives would be so boring, so repetitive. 

Then consider the community in which you reside. It is obvious that we need everyone who is contributing to the efficient running of things. We require people of many talents. There is beauty in every shade of skin, every hue of the eyes. We instinctively know that variety is essential to our very survival.

Sometimes we become insular. Insisting that our city or state or nation does not need anything from outside its borders. Perhaps this made more sense in the days when travel and communication from one place to another was more difficult, but in today’s world such an idea is not just impossible, it is actually absurd. Much like the proverbial butterfly flapping its wings in Africa we are affected by happenings and issues from all over the world. A war in Ukraine threatens the safety of our allies which in turn threatens our own well being. Fighting in the Middle East has an impact on our lives even when we choose to ignore it. The cost of everything that we use is impacted by economies all over the world. We are no more an island than our nation is. Isolating ourselves does not erase the inevitable influences on our daily lives. 

My high school English teacher was a learned and well read man. He understood the need to make us more aware of the world outside of our neighborhood. He introduced us to literature, art, national magazines, a world of possibilities. Through our reading we saw the people from Africa as individuals so much like ourselves. We saw the same hopes and dreams and difficulties playing out in characters all over the world. He took us to see plays that were written over a thousand years ago by Greeks whose hearts beat for the same reasons that ours do today. We cried over the Trojan women who had lost their husbands and lovers in war as though we were learning about neighbors who had been killed. He told us that we we then and always should be citizens of the world. He understood the interlocking pieces of humanity that have always been essential to life. 

I know that the resources on our planet are limited. I understand that I must be aware of the needs of others before hoarding up stores for myself. I believe that if we do not share, if we are profligate and wasteful we will surely destroy this beautiful blue orb that we call our home. There is plenty enough to get by without being selfish or gluttonous. Thinking beyond our homes and into the community of humanity should not be considered something immoral. Instead we should always ask ourselves what more we can do for those who are struggling. 

During the pandemic we Americans were given the gift of vaccinations at no cost. Most of us did not stop to think about nations with medical deserts where refrigeration for the vaccines were unavailable but a kind doctor from my city did. Dr. Peter Hotez worried about the sick and dying in faraway places and set to work with a colleague creating an old school Covid vaccine that could be taken to the remotest areas without need of refrigeration. When he found the right formula he gave it away without cost. He made no money on the deal. It was absolutely free. For his efforts some lauded him, even nominating him for the Nobel Peace prize. Sadly others harassed and threatened him, accusing him of vile intentions. A man who should have been universally honored now has to walk with a security guard to insure that nobody will be able to follow through with the violence that they want to inflict on him. 

We would all do well to heed the poetic advice of John Dunne. None of us are or should be islands. We belong to the entirety of humankind. It is up to us to embrace our fellow humans and work together against the evil forces of want, hunger, war, and violence. If enough of us begin to fully understand our responsibility to each other the world inches closer and closer to a unified and beautiful place. 

One of my ancestors was Captain Thomas Smith of Virginia. He served in the Continental Army during the American Revolution. He fought bravely for the American cause that would become the United States of America. Not quite one hundred years later one of his descendants, Lt. John William Seth Smith, would go to battle with the Union Army to save the nation that was conceived by our Founding Fathers and first led by George Washington. 

Even though the writers of the Constitution would not “remember the ladies” as Abigail Adams had implored her husband, John, women would ultimately gain the right to vote in the first decades of the twentieth century. I feel an obligation to register my voice with every election. My vote is a precious and hard won gift that I do not ever take for granted. Today I will go to the polls with great joy in my heart. As I vote for those who will represent me on a local and national level I will be thinking of my ancestors and the sacrifices they made to make it possible for me to have a voice in how to continue the promises of those who dreamed of this nation. 

There have been many watershed moments in the history of the United States. I learned about them as a child and young adult in school and college. I do not take my responsibility to vote for the greater good of our country and its people lightly. I have studied the issues and the candidates in great detail. I believe that this moment is yet another important turning point in which “we the people” have the opportunity to protect the United States as surely as Thomas Smith and John William Seth Smith did in the long ago. 

We are at a fork in the road of our democracy. We have an important choice to make. We can think only of our personal needs and wishes or we can consider the greater question of who is more likely to further the progress of our great nation. We have become a diverse group of citizens in which those who were once slaves have as much right to vote as any white male has ever had. I am both a daughter of the American Revolution and the child of an immigrant family from Eastern Europe. Our country has been enriched by people from Europe, Africa, Asia, South America and the Middle East. The immigrants have not been invaders but creative contributors to our ever more dynamic democracy. Each of us plays an important role in keep the United States of America vibrant and true to the ideals that launched one of the most audacious experiments in the history of the world. 

Today I plan to join my fellow citizens in voting. I have made my choices. I believe with all of my heart that my ballot will be as important today as the contributions of my ancestors once were. We have a choice between those who love this country and its people and those who would have us believe that a man who continues to incite divisions among us is a patriot rather than a traitor to all that is sacred. I will celebrate as I choose Kamala Harris, a woman of Black and Indian cultures. How better to demonstrate the glory of our great nation? I will spurn Donald Trump who seems only intent on enriching and protecting himself and his personal needs. It is what I am being called to do by the people who sacrificed so much before me. I will vote for the future of the nation and for the future of my children and grandchildren. I will vote for those less fortunate that I am and for those newly arrived in our country who no doubt want nothing more than my own ancestors desired. I will vote to save the United States of America from ideas that degrade it.

Today is a great day. I am excited and in awe of being able to register my voice, hoping that it will be amplified my millions of other Americans who understand the fork in the road that we must choose. I feel patriotism filling my heart with joy. The United States of America is not a hell hole as Donald Trump describes it. It is a great place to be and I am honored to do my part to keep it that way.  I am a daughter of the American Revolution and I feel so proud to be part of the great democratic republic which has grown and changed to include more and more of us over time. We are a beacon of liberty shining for the world to see.

I am by nature a polite person. I respect others and tend more toward diplomacy than brute force. I like to be optimistic and I certainly have never been the type who would rant that the sky is falling, but right now things are very different. The current environment is demanding my attention. As a person trained to protect people from harm I find myself needing to speak difficult truths as a warning that dangers that are imminent. 

I have been wary of Donald J. Trump from the moment he rode down a golden elevator and announced that he was running for President of the United States. My single parent mother had taught me how to develop my radar when it came to being in the presence of dangerous people. She was a street wise child who was the youngest of eight children. From an early age she had to navigate prejudices and want. She brilliantly learned the tricks of the trade and managed to live a wonderful life in spite of challenges that might have conquered others. Along the way she plied me with her wisdom, love, generosity and ability to spot a bad situation or person immediately. 

Somehow she instinctively knew that there are times in life when evil enters and we must all recognize it when we see it. I have kept myself safe without guns or fortresses simply by being aware of what is happening in my surroundings. I have rarely been surprised and it was no different with Donald Trump. I was that he had wrapped himself in a false cloak of patriotism that was based on dividing us as a nation, telling us falsehoods about each other, manipulating our laws to exclude huge swaths of the citizenry, debasing women and people with disabilities. flattering racist tendencies. I saw exactly what kind of person he was and reviled it even as he did his best to gaslight us into thinking that he was the true American patriot and that those who disagreed with him were the losers and communists. 

I felt vindicated when it became apparent Trump was unable to pull us together as a nation during the worldwide Covid pandemic. His many weaknesses of character and leadership became patently clear and as I had hoped he was defeated in his run for a second term. I thought that surely we were done with him and might return to an American system build on mutual respect and the kind of ideas that pulls people together rather than apart. Almost immediately my dreams were dashed on January 6, 2020, when he incited his followers to storm Congress and stop the verification of the vote. Surely this was the work of a deranged traitor only intent on increasing power for himself. Once again I clearly saw his danger and believed that all Americans had finally witnessed it as well. 

Imagine my dismay that Donald Trump is once again a candidate for the presidency and that according to polls the race is too close to call at this moment. Now I have begun to feel an urgency that I have never before experienced other than the time I had to dart into the street in front of a car that was speeding straight for the tiny toddler of a friend. Without pausing for a second I did what had to be done. I scared everyone with my bold move, but the child was saved. 

Now I feel the same need to not mince words. Donald J. Trump is a convicted criminal who attempted to overturn a fair election. He is a danger to the very foundations of of democracy and yet so many seem to be bizarrely unaware that he is moving swiftly toward the annihilation of all that we have held dear in our nation just as surely as that car was heading toward the little child. If we do not use our common sense and love of country to stop this travesty then all of us, not just those who despise Trump as much as I do will become victims of an unnecessary tragedy. 

The United States is not the hell hole that Trump claims it to be. Our economy is slowly but surely adjusting itself from the worldwide upheaval of Covid and inflation. The immigrants in our country are not the extreme danger that Trump describes them as being. We need to come back together and pass the immigration bill that Trump asked Republicans not to pass so that he would might use immigrants as a campaign tool. Nothing that Trump advocates is healthy or good for our country. Everything that he espouses is designed to keep him out of jail for his crimes. He is a bad person, a terrible citizen, a horrid choice for running the nation. I see this more clearly than ever and I have to be blunt in saying that God did not send him to heal us. He is as anti-Christian in the way he lives his life as anyone that I have ever witnessed. 

If I can change even one vote that might have been cast in favor of Donald J. Trump I will have served my country well. I want to preserve the world of the great men who conceived our nation and believed that we would protect and improve it. I believe with all of my heart that Donald J. Trump is the evil that men like James Madison, Benjamin Franklin and George Washington feared might come along to tear it all down. We have the power to see the danger and set things right. We will be fine if we keep Donald Trump from ever returning to the White House again. I fear our destiny if we are blinded by his incoherent whining and lies. Be a hero when you vote. Send a message that you love the United States of America and will not stand for watching it reduced to a mockery of itself. Vote against Donald Trump and all who blindly support him. Save the United States of America.