Month: February 2025

“I will not give in to the lies. I will not give in to the fear” —-Jim Acosta

Last week Jim Acosta resigned from CNN. He did so after he was demoted to the midnight hour of programing because of his insistence on telling what he believed to be the truth about Donald Trump. He is but one of many journalists who have left publications and broadcasting in protest over attempts to muzzle their honest assessments of what is presently happening in the United States. Rather than being silenced they have chosen to publicly protest. 

It is always difficult to speak up when everyone else seems to be bowing to pressure. There is a video circulating on social media that shows a professor asking a student to leave his class for no apparent reason. As the stunned individual walks out the expressions on the faces of her classmates indicate shock and yet none of them find the courage to defend her. Once she is gone the professor admits that what he had done was unjust. He wonders why nobody spoke up in protest. He then explains that this is how freedoms die. 

I have always wondered why the German people did not mount a nationwide protest when it became apparent that Hitler was chipping away at their democracy. With little or no resistance at he managed to be a bonafide dictator of the nation in only fifty three days. I think of how different history might have been if enough citizens had joined in a united effort to unseat him before his power over them was ironclad. 

I suspect that most people don’t know how to react in such situations. Their instinct is to preserve themselves so that they will not become victims. They go silent, keeping their personal beliefs inside. They want to keep their jobs, insure that their children are safe, just go along no matter how difficult life becomes. 

Of course there will always be those who buy into the injustice. They rationalize reasons why some people deserve to be ousted from their midst. They see wholesale punishments of certain groups of people as a kind of necessary fairness. They agree with the demonization of people who are unlike they are. They make excuses for hate.

I have always wanted to believe that when faced with injustice I would take action rather than simply looking the other way. I worried that my personality might fail me in such circumstances because I am by nature a quiet and unassuming person. I have never felt comfortable raising my hand in classrooms. The tenor of my voice is soft and easy to ignore. There have been instances when I have melted so well into a crowd that I felt invisible and I liked being that way. 

I reached a watershed moment long ago in a college Spanish class. I was in my second year and the professor had awarded me with a prize for my fluency when I was his student in the first year classes. I looked forward to an enjoyable year of completing the language requirements of my chosen major. I assumed that my opinion of the professor and his of me would be congenial but then something happened that changed all of that. 

The professor was calling on students to answer questions in Spanish. It was an exercise that forced us to use the language conversationally. When it was my turn he smiled at my fluency and then turned to the young man sitting next to me. I had earlier overheard the my fellow student talking with his friend in Spanish so I assumed that he too would receive a smile of encouragement. Sadly that is not what happened, 

The professor chided the student for incorrect pronunciation and for use of words that sounded crude and uneducated. The young man sat stony faced as his friend taking in the painful harangue. His friend then became the next victim. After the student nervously responded to the question the professor furiously announced to all of us that he had no idea what language the two young men were speaking but that is certainly was not Spanish. When one of his victims finally had the temerity to insist that he had spoken Spanish with his parents for his entire life the professor snarled that it was high time for him and his friend to grow up and learn how to speak properly. 

The embarrassing moment ended with the two students hurriedly gathering their belongings and rushing out of the classroom with a pledge to drop the class rather than to accept being insulted. From somewhere deep inside of me a little voice told me that I also needed to protest. I too gathered my things and walked out to the stunned surprise of the professor. I immediately dropped the class even though I would not be eligible for a reimbursement of my tuition. Then I sent a letter to the professor outlining my concerns about how he had treated the two students. 

I have no idea whether or not my protest made any difference at all, but it told me that I did have the courage to stand up for what I believed to be right. I have boldly step up to protect those being unfairly persecuted ever since. Being a voice for those unable to defend themselves was at the heart of my career as a teacher and Dean of Faculty. I was never again afraid. 

Now I know that I have to join with courageous individuals like General Mark Milley, John McCain, Liz Cheney, Adam Kinzinger, Jennifer Rubin, Steve Schmidt, and Jim Acosta in standing up for truth even if it alters our lives. It is clear to me that Donald Trump is seeking vengeance on innocent people and doing his best to change our democracy forever with or without the Constitution. Being silent now would be dangerous for everyone so I will call things out as I witness them. I have little to lose as I do my best to be a person of honor.   

Donald Trump is tearing down my country so quickly that my head is spinning. My anxiety is off the charts, not for myself but for younger Americans. I have enjoyed a good life with educational opportunities and freedom to be myself and develop my own thoughts. What Trump is doing with the stroke of a Sharpie is chaotic and often unconstitutional. It is unlikely to end well for any of us regardless of our individual political leanings. 

So Trump seems intent on putting a freeze on multiple federal programs including free breakfast and lunch for children. He says that it won’t necessarily be a longterm change but will allow him to determine whether or not such a program is worth the investment of federal dollars. 

First of all those federal dollars come from the taxes that every citizen pays. Since only about a third of all eligible voters cast their votes for Trump he should consider asking the rest of us how we feel about everything he is doing. Looking specifically at the free breakfast/free lunch program I would have to cast my vote in favor of feeding our school children. In a country as wealthy as the United States it is a travesty that anyone would think that providing sustenance for the poor among us is a luxury that our nation cannot afford. 

Children learn and perform better when they are well fed. Many young people in the United States are living in poverty in spite of parental efforts to provide for them. I can’t begin to describe the number of students that I have taught whose parents worked two and three jobs just to pay rent and purchase groceries. In a time when the cost of food is skyrocketing it is likely that large numbers of young people arrive at school without nourishment. The free breakfast and lunch programs were a safety net for them that makes a difference in their ability to concentrate and learn. Hungry people do not generally do well at anything that requires them to use their body’s energy without the fuel that we all need. 

When i was in college I was a commuter student. I managed to hitch a ride to school each morning by paying a friend. I also had to cover my tuition and books. I worked at various jobs but none of them paid enough to insure that I would be able to stretch my funds as far as I needed to do. i had to be very careful in how I spent every nickel. The only place to cut corners was with food. I ate breakfast at home and at first skipped lunch at school each day. Doing so proved to be more difficult than I had imagined. Because my ride home did not come until ten hours after I had eaten I was constantly feeling lightheaded. I sometimes zoned out during class. I was punishing my body and soon realized that I could not continue to fast every single day. I eventually remedied the situation slightly by bringing a peanut butter sandwich in my book bag. It wasn’t the healthiest diet but it kept me from passing out.

I can’t imagine anything more intentionally cruel that cutting funding for the free lunch program. To add fuel to the hot topic Trump and some of his supporters have suggested that students should work after school to earn money for the food that they eat. Is this actually a suggestion that we should feel okay about? Would these same folks see nothing innately wrong about putting young children back on assembly lines? Should we lower the age at which youngsters can legally work? What is anyone thinking when they even hint at such things? What kind of jobs can young people procure that will produce enough income to pay for the food they need? What happens to time for studying and doing homework? Will poor children be deprived of participating in extra curricular activities because they have to work? 

Of course such questions would normally sound ridiculous but these are not normal times. I doubt seriously that even the MAGAs who voted for Donald Trump ever imagined that he would be looking for ways to save money by cutting multiple programs while giving bigger and bigger tax cuts for the richest among us. What kind of nation are we when we abandon the most vulnerable? 

Frankly I am exhausted and Trump has only been in office a little over two weeks. So much of what he is doing is totally unnecessary but he lies to make his plans sound reasonable. If we the people do not speak out now and do so loudly it won’t be long before we no longer recognize our country. Trump is undoing years of progress without taking the time to consider the many unintended consequences of his actions. He is tearing us apart while hoping to  line his own pockets and those of his band of oligarchs. I seriously do not understand why there is not way more concern being uttered all across the land. 

We still have our freedom of speech although is seems as though anyone wanting to work for the federal government will have to pledge allegiance to Trump. Those who believe Trump’s ideas will make America Great Again are in for a huge shock. It’s time we all had the courage to speak out and stop the the runaway train before it crashes and burns. Our children and our freedoms depend on how we react.

Update: After an uproar from citizens and judges Trump rescinded his attempt to freeze many programs proving that we still have power if we use it. Do not be silent. Push back. Make yourself heard.

I vividly remember waking up on May 30, 1957. The sun was already shining brightly through the windows of my bedroom and I was excited about the family picnic that we were planning to attend on that day. As I oriented myself in those first few minutes of awakening I heard my mother talking on the phone. Her words were confusing and her voice sounded the way someone speaks when they are trying not to cry. She seemed to be providing information about someone which seemed rather strange at that time of day. Her use of the pronoun “he” and past tense verbs made me curious about her conversation. I lay quietly staring at the ceiling attempting to make sense of her conversation to no avail. 

I scampered past her and went to the kitchen planning to grab some cereal or make some toast for breakfast. I was stunned to find my Aunt Valeria puttering about as though she was attempting to stay busy but not having much success in doing so. I did not recall any other time that my aunt had come to our home so early in the morning so I became even more suspicious than I had been when I eavesdropped on my mother’s strange words. 

I wanted to be polite so I acted as though it was totally normal for my aunt to be present. I sat down at the kitchen table waiting for some kind of explanation from her. Instead she ignored me for a time while nervously seeming to be collecting her thoughts. She finally spoke to me with a solemn expression and a halting tempo as though she was on the verge of tears. 

“Sharron, God called your Daddy home last night!” was all that she said as she stood watching for my reaction. 

I was eight years old but I was bright enough to know what she meant. Nonetheless I found her comment to be so unbelievable that I challenged her with a silly remark, “God doesn’t call people on the phone. What are you talking about?”

My aunt’s face quivered as she explained much more clearly that my father had been killed in an automobile accident in the early morning hours. Then she quickly added, “I’m so sorry, honey! Your father is dead!”

Shock is a cruel emotion but I suppose that in some ways in protects us from the strong feelings that leak out slowly from the moment of learning about something that is unnatural and life changing. I simply sat frozen in my seat and said nothing more. I understood what she was telling me but I did not want to think about it at that moment. I felt a kind of fear growing inside my chest and I knew that if I began to cry I might never again be able to stop my tears. 

That whole day was a nightmare. Before long all of my aunts and uncles and my mother’s friends had congregated in our living room. They were very protective of my mother who was mostly prostrate in her bedroom. They did their best to watch over me and my brothers but in their belief that we could not possibly understand what was happening they mostly whispered to one another and encouraged us to play outside with our cousins and the neighborhood children. 

It would not be until late that evening that I ventured into my mother’s bedroom were she lay with red eyes and an expression so painful that it hurt to look at her. I climbed onto the bed and she hugged me. Without saying a word we both sobbed for what felt like hours. 

Our world had crashed around us. Our future was so uncertain. It would be months before any hint of normalcy came back to our family. Thankfully the people that we knew and loved rallied around us and did not leave. 

I later learned that newspaper accounts of my father’s wreck had made the front page of both local newspaper. It was a good story on a slow news day of a very young man who had left three children orphaned. The journalists posed many questions about how his accident had happened and suggested a number of possible reasons, none of which could be totally verified. The hints were hurtful to my mom. They insinuated that she and my father had engaged in a spat and that my father had left the house to quell his anger. The story also suggested that he may have been drinking and not totally in control of his faculties. As a result he drove straight into a ditch where many other wrecks had previously occurred because the road was not lit and it ended abruptly. 

Later a huge sign lit with bright blinking lights impossible to miss would be placed at the spot where my father descended into a dark tragedy. In later years cars would be built with seatbelts and air bags, all of which might have saved him on that night. While is was not doubt good to determine how the horrific wreck had happened somehow asking questions about it in the very moment that my mother was grieving seemed to only pour fuel on the flames of loss that she was enduring. 

I find myself thinking about the people who lost loved one in the horrific accident at the airport in Washington D.C. We will certainly want to know what caused the disaster so that we might fix the situation, but focusing on possibilities before comforting the relatives and friends of the victims seems to be ghoulishly cruel just as it was with my mother. 

There is a time and a place for all of the public talk. The people who understand such things are already looking into the possibilities. For now, however, our only thoughts should be about the loved ones whose world has broken apart as surely as that plane. Let us comfort them and help them in their hour of grief, not argue over who and what is to blame. In doing so we might turn to the example of President Ronald Reagan who so sensitively and compassionately held our nation together after the Challenger blew up only minutes after take off. His graciousness was magnificent and he understood that we would have time later to determine why things went so horribly wrong. He brought us all together and showed us how to behave in such moments. This is the hour of grief for so many. It is not the time to politicize what has happened. We all want to fix the problems but that can come later.

I am admittedly a student of liberal arts. While I have spent lifetime teaching mathematics, my true passion lies in continuing to learn about philosophy, literature, history, political science, rhetoric, music, art. I suppose that in the fanciful compartment of my brain I dreamed of myself as both a student and purveyor of the arts. I imagined becoming a writer of such great wisdom and talent that all the world would hang on to every word that I committed to paper. I considered the idea of reporting facts and truths as a journalist. I saw myself sitting on a stool, wrapped in a shawl introducing students to the glorious realm of the written world. Instead fate and a need to earn a living surprisingly turned me into a teacher of mathematics where I soon learned how to convey the lyrical beauty of numbers. 

Learning lies at the center of my personal universe. I want to explore the world through the words and experiences of others. I want to learn about ideas that might never have occurred to me. I actively seek to challenge my own thinking on a daily basis in a lifelong adventure of seeking truth. I don’t want a sugarcoated, condensed version of education leaning toward sameness. I prefer the adventure of hearing ideas that force me to question the status quo and travel down pathways that lead to new ways of seeing the world. Such adventures of the mind are glorious to me and it has been my good fortune to encounter teachers, professors and authors who continue to widen my horizons. 

I am always suspicious of the motivation of those who would instead urge me to narrow the thoughts of my mind to a singular way of thinking. Little progress has ever been made when people are denied the truth whether with regard to religion or history or politics. Burning and banning ideas simply because we do not agree with them is self limiting and dangerous. After much thought and study I may not agree with everything that I have learned but I understand that I am all the better person for expanding my knowledge and worldview. I am not ready to accept the illusion that it is dangerous to know more about topics that force me to question my own culture or ways of thinking. 

I was quite fortunate to encounter some outstanding teachers in my time before college. They introduced me to formalized debate, books discussing taboos, questions about my sacred beliefs. This journey into before unknown territory did not cause me to lose my religion or to turn against my heroes, but rather to see that there are indeed other good ways of doing things than those that I embraced mostly due to the time and place in which I have lived. I opened my eyes and accepted a lifelong willingness to study and consider and embrace the beautiful diversity of the world as it is.

I am a better person today because nobody stifled my thinking or took away my freedom to ask questions. True liberation for me has meant being able to openly learn about and discuss taboos. It meant debating the pros and cons of differing philosophies. Like Thomas Jefferson I have created a personal worldview from many years of studying the works of the greatest minds of history and the present time. My teachers and later my college professors gave me the ability to do research, to think critically, to draw conclusions, to keep my mind open to present my own points of view. It has been a gift without bounds that I treasure more than money and possessions.

In the current political atmosphere I worry when I see governments banning books, attempting to make a particular religion the centerpiece of education. I cringe when free speech is threatened by a demagogue who demands praise rather than honest rebuttal. I worry that honest investigations will be met with threats of revenge rather than being welcomed ways of shining a light on truth. We enter a dark time whenever we restrict learning and ideas and the ability to speak freely about our institutions and our leaders. History is filled with moments when despots kill ideas and often the people who purvey them as well. I don’t want that for myself or my country but I sense that the ability to openly convey personal beliefs is being threatened. 

I truly hope that our teachers and professors, journalists and authors, political figures and pundits will not be confined to a generic way of speaking, writing, behaving. We should cherish and protect our freedoms of speech and press against any forces that attempt to silence protests or differing ideas. Demanding uniformity never leads to a more democratic society nor does it help our young to find themselves. The study of ideas without restrictions leads to a more enlightened world. That should always be our goal. 

My voice is small in the grand scheme of things. I doubt that my influence will create waves but I do worry that in the current environment someone may one day attempt to silence me. I hope that does not ever come to pass.  

I’ve written about my cousins before. They have always been just a phone call away. They came when my brothers were being baptized. They came when my father died. I saw them every Friday night at my grandmother’s house when we were just kids. They came to my wedding and I went to theirs. Over the years we’ve celebrated together and cried in difficult times. As we grew older it seemed as though I mostly saw them at funerals but I have always known that I can depend on them no matter how long it has been since I have seen them. 

I suppose that I think of Canada in much the same way. They have always been just across a long border with the United States. When I was a child visiting their country was as simple as driving through a friendly checkpoint. Later I would go camping in Montana with my husband and children. There I met Canadians enjoying our national parks and introducing us to their generosity and quaint ways of speaking the same language as ours. When I took two of my grandsons to Victoria BC for a high tea at the Empress Hotel the Canadians were still as friendly and welcoming as they have always been. One of my grandsons even declared that he thought he might like to go live there one day. 

Just as with my cousins I have not always thought about Canada but I have always felt a kinship with the people there. I suppose I took for granted that my country and theirs would always be friends. When terrorists flew into the World Trade Center in New York City Canada stood staunchly by our side just as they have for so long. When fires created a hellscape in Los Angeles our Canadian friends came to help fight the flames that were destroying the city. Our two countries may not always agree on every single issue but the same can be said of me and my beloved cousins. Our relationship with Canada seemed to be beyond any petty squabble that might arise. At least that was the case until Donald Trump came along and stirred things up by insinuating that we should annex Canada to the United States as though he has the authority to take over a free nation on a whim. Then came Trump’s threat of tariffs unless he gets his way. 

I am appalled that Trump has the audacity to endanger the wonderful relationship that the United States and Canada have enjoyed for decades. His lies about a porous border can only be believed by someone who has never cared much about factual evidence. There is neither an abundance of fentanyl nor illegal immigrants crossing into the United States from our neighboring country to the north. Trump is using a hyperbolic exaggeration to justify his threats and as an American citizen I resent that he is creating a wedge between our countries that need not be there. It reeks of the kind of audacity that led Russia to invade Ukraine. With all of the real crises we face it has to be the most senseless idea to burn the bridges of our mutual goodwill. 

I hope that by the time this blog makes its debut the fences will be mended and Trump’s threats will be gone. Nonetheless I know that even if none of his blustering becomes real he has created unnecessary tension for both of our nations. It reminds me of a jealous high school girl who darts from one person to another whispering lies and riling up emotions among friends for her own pleasure. It is not presidential or even the kind of behavior I would expect from an adult. 

Sadly I suspect that the trust and respect that Canada has had for our nation for so long won’t be the same. Canadians are only too aware that Trump was chosen by a majority to lead our nation. They know that there are Americans in the United States who like his style and his ideas. They now must wonder what the people here think of them. I suspect that if and when we visit each other there will be a kind of wariness that was not there before. They will be wondering if they can trust us anymore. Once ugliness rears its head it becomes quite difficult to get feelings back to what they may have once been. The trust between us is broken

I am angry and grieving that this has come to pass. I want the Canadian people to know that I have the highest regard for them. They are wonderful people living in a beautiful country. They are the best neighbors anyone might wish to have. I am so sorry that this has happened and I will do my best to make my displeasure known and hopefully set things right again. I doubt that being diplomatic with our president will make a dent in his beliefs. Nor as some have suggested will lying in protest on railroad tracks as he barrels thoughtlessly along bring the changes that we need. I don’t yet know what will stop the insanity of it all but I live in the hopes that more and more of my fellow citizens will see the danger in just watching Trump spew his poison and vindictiveness. Surely we can use the Constitution and laws that our forefathers have given us to stop him from ruining one of the best friendships in the history of the world. I have to believe that we still have enough collective influence to set things right. 

In the meantime I send a heartfelt message of gratitude to the people of Canada for all that they have done for my country over and over again. I suppose it’s not enough to assert that I did not vote for Trump. Now I have to use my power as a free citizen to change the course of his recklessness along with the millions of other Americans who agree that we do not wish to lose the peace and friendship between our two nations. We will be working to mend the hurt.