Category: Commentary

We Americans are easily distracted. We have had it so good for so long that we find ways to ignore signs that our democratic republic is faltering. Instead of becoming livid when we see signs of the president restricting the press we just shake our heads and try to sanely explain that he has always been that way and there is little that we might do to change things anyway.

We allow ourselves to get tied up with concerns about things that have very little impact on anyone’s lives like trans athletes competing with young girls or going into their bathrooms. We don’t stop to find out that trans people represent less than one percent of the total population of the nation. The incidents of trans athletes taking the honor from women are so close to nil that we should not even worry. 

We then look the other way when the president starts an ongoing war with Iran without following the dictates of our Constitution that very clearly gives that right to Congress. So too do we watch ICE rampaging like masked mobsters in cities and towns without demanding an immediate end to their tactics. We sit back and only shrug went the Secretary of Defense gets rid of career officers and then brings in civilians to make massive changes in how things are done. We act as though there is nothing that we can do after DOGE tore down so many government agencies and those guys were just young men barely in their adult phase of live. We even look past the very visible truth that our president is not well. 

Our press is little better than we are. Comedians are doing a better job of pointing out the problems with our current government than those entrusted with providing us with truth. The majority of journalists seem more intent on currying favor with Trump rather than questioning the egregious things he is doing. The headlines rarely reach the heart of the horror of what our nation is enduring. We have to rely on independent souls willing to push for an honest assessment of what is happening while those from the networks seem to cower in fear save for a few brave souls.

The entire presidential cabinet as well as most Republicans bow and scrape to the president even as he becomes more and more unhinged. They witness his abandonment of our traditional allies and simply shrug. They see him constantly falling asleep and boast that he is so hard working that he just gets tired. When the president says that watching Iran bomb Los Angeles or San Diego would be a small price to pay, his minions insist that he is just telling a joke. Meanwhile many of us know exactly what we are seeing and hearing from the Oval Office and it is not good.

I love the United States with every fiber of my being. I have always believed that ultimately we are good people, citizens who care deeply about our nation. When Joe Biden began to look unwell I understood that we needed to insure that he did not run for office. I was proud of Democrats who realized that as well and even prouder of Biden for stepping down. It must have been difficult for him to do so but he so loved our nation that he did what he believed was best. Now we have Trump looking much more out of it than Biden ever did and nobody seems willing to stop him from reeking havoc on the entire world until after they resign and write a book.

I believe that Americans will vote against Republicans in big numbers but Trump is already shouting to his believers that Democrats are determined to cheat in order to win. He is setting up another attempt to change the results just as he did with January 6, 2020. This time he feels invincible because even with all of the evidence of his traitorous behavior his party fell in line, nominated him again, and returned him to office where he rules like a king.

I dread what will happen after this election. Things have fallen apart so much that the center may not hold. With Trump still in office for two more years his fear of being held accountable might lead him to declare martial law or to deny the results of the election long enough to create chaos in our government. He already jokes that he would like to run for a third term. He has a tendency to hide his very real threats inside what he claims is just a joke..

It is time for the press to be brutally honest about what they see happening. There can be no more pandering, no more headlines that make this moment in history seem normal. They need to focus on calling him out and standing with reporters who show the gumption to do so. It’s past time for being quietly polite when they know that what they are seeing is wrong.

I am a person who tells it like I see it. I have learned that many who are advocating for honest reporting have found themselves being threatened by Trump and members of his family and cabinet. They have been doxed and subjected to horrific invasions of their privacy. We all know that this kind of behavior is very wrong. This is the kind of thing that should warn us that our democracy is teetering under the pressure of fear. It’s time for us all to be brave. 

I have an old cookbook that belonged to my mother. My father purchased it for her before I was born. It was published during World War II and reflected the sacrifices that the American people endured in order to fight against fascism. Each recipe was created to reflect the rationing of certain ingredients during that time. In many ways that cookbook is historic in how it helped cooks to create tasty food without using difficult to find ingredients.

I learned to cook from that book under the guidance of my mother. She got me started by showing me how to make cookies for Christmas. She explained to me how I would be making treats that used fewer eggs and less sugar but still tasted amazing. Making those cookies year after year kept me attuned to the past because each year she reiterated the stories of how every American did whatever was needed to support the war effort. She joked about driving around in cars with tires patched over and over to divert rubber to the military. She was quite proud of the national efforts and made sure that I understood how incredible the American people had been during that time.

I would later find a ration book among the belongings of my husband’s Aunt Elsie. I saw the accounting of her meager purchases as she too supported the war efforts, often with even more fervor. She was an immigrant from Great Britain and still had family in England. At one point in time she even offered to take in the children of her relatives there so that they would be safe from the bombing attacks from the German army.

I grew up understanding what World War II had been like because my father and all of my uncles had served in the military. I was born at the beginning of the boom of children that occurred after the war was over. My parents and relatives and the parents of my friends reminded me constantly of the sacrifices that everyone was willing to make during that time.

After the war it became apparent that Russia was going to create new problems for the world. My mother told me that she witnessed her father crying only two times. The first came when Germany invaded Czechoslovakia. The next time was when Russia invaded Czechoslovakia. My grandfather had a massive stroke shortly after that event and died before I was born. My mother always believed that watching his beloved nation fall into the hands of another tyrannical government was more than her father was able to take.

I grew up under the constant threat of the USSR. I remember the air raid practices that forced us to crotch under our desks at school. I recall the Cuban Missile Crisis and listened to my teacher telling us what to do in the event of an attack. Growing up was punctuated over and over again with warnings about fascism and communism and the hot and cold wars that Europe and America endured. 

Eventually when I was an adult the USSR fell. The wall that imprisoned the citizens of East Berlin was taken down bit by bit. I have a chunk of that wall to remind me of the horrors that dictators inflict on innocent people. There was joy across the globe as we saw ourselves moving into a new era free from the brutality of the old USSR. Sadly other international difficulties would continue to arise. It was as though we were engaged in eternal conflicts of one kind or another.

The rise of Vladimir Putin in Russia did not bode well. I learned that he had been quite disturbed when the old USSR fell apart. I watched as he attempted to reinstate the former glory and dominance of Russia over much of eastern Europe. I saw his hand interfering in elections in those countries that sometimes ended with leaders who cozied up to Putin. I watched him coveting the industrial areas of Ukraine and using his influence in the elections there. More than once he tried to claim territory that was not his and finally invaded Ukraine in February of 2022.

Since that time the Ukrainian people have bravely defended their nation. For a time the United States and much of Europe rallied to their needs by sending military supplies, sanctioning Russia and freezing Russian assets in European and American banks. It seemed that the people of Europe and the United States were determined not to allow Russia to regain dominance again. Then came the election of Donald Trump in 2026, and with him the unraveling of the support for Ukraine. Trump demeaned President Zelensky in the Oval Office while at the same time feting Putin with a red carpet welcome. Trump unilaterally decided that Ukraine needed to accept its losses of land and make peace with Russia.

After declaring war on Iran without the Constitutional agreement of Congress Trump has created a worldwide economic disaster that has affected the price of oil across the globe. In particular the cost of diesel is outrageous, making American farmers and truck drivers pay a price that is ruining their businesses. In an effort to regain the support of some of his key Republican voters Trump has once again supposedly unilaterally signed a deal with Russia to purchase diesel fuel. This arrangement will provide Russia with the financial boost that will allow them to continue the war against Ukraine. Unbelievably Trump also insists that whole situation is the fault of Ukraine and President Zelensky. He urges Zelensky to either give in to Russia’s demands or resign as president of Ukraine.

Upon hearing of Trump’s latest traitorous dealings I wept like my grandfather had done. I fully understood what this meant to the people of Ukraine who have so valiantly fought for their freedoms. I thought of Trump as a turncoat who has always been overly friendly and subservient to Putin and it sickened me.

Trump and his minions are masters of propaganda. Somehow they convince many Americans that they are the good guys and everyone else is vile and hateful. They line their pockets and grow ever more wealthy and hide their intentions in traitorous lies. Trump has been a Russian asset ever since he was bailed out by Russian oligarchs when he was about to lose everything he had. In that time no bank in America or Europe would provide him with a loan to save his businesses and his wealth. He found what he needed in Russia and he has kept those people close for all time while turning on our neighboring nations and our allies in Europe. It should be evident to every American who is actually important to him. The curtain is drawn back. The wizard is a fraud and because I have always known that truth I weep for my country and for the world.

I rarely pass a Barnes and Noble Bookstore without going inside. Somehow I feel good just being there. I suspect it is because I associate bookstores with my father who let me tag along with him whenever he set out on a Saturday to purchase a new volume. Like him I have rather eclectic taste and never know what I might bring home to tuck away in the many nooks and crannies where I store by collection. 

I recently did some culling and filled a number of boxes with books that I read once and felt no compulsion to horde forever. I set aside the ones that appealed to my daughter and took the rest to sell at  Half Price Books. I earned a bit over five dollars which was a glorious coincidence because while I was waiting to learn what my pay out would be I found a book on Roman mythology that was so lovely and only cost five dollars. Of course I took it home.

I tell people that when I traveled with my father my souvenirs were always books. We once went to a store in Hollywood just down the street from the Walk of Fame that was several stories high and crammed with volumes of every kind. It appeared to be a place that had been there for decades and every cranny smelled like paper and leather. I remember that I had a difficult time deciding what to choose but my father was not in a hurry to leave so I was able to consider all of the dozens of options. I ended up with a beautifully illustrated version of Cinderella and my five year old brother chose a book about tying knots. 

There is a quaint bookseller in New Orleans near the Sr. Louis cathedral. It is off the beaten path in Pirates Alley and has been named for the author William Faulkner who once lived and wrote nearby. It is one of the places that I must visit each time I travel to New Orleans. I somehow feel my father looking over my shoulder when I am there and smiling to know that I too have become enchanted by books. I most recently found a copy of William Faulkner’s first novel that he wrote while living in New Orleans. Soldiers Pay doesn’t not quite reach the level of brilliance that his later works achieved but it demonstrates his incredible ability to weave a tale with descriptions and characters that are spell binding.

I also found a small volume of strange words that have cropped up in the English vernacular over time. It is the kind of fun book that my father would have enjoyed. I can almost envision him laughing at the illustrations and descriptions and taking great delight in finding such a jewel. The best part is that I left that store having spent only a bit more than twenty dollars but feeling as though I had purchased forever treasures.

My greatest joy came from a spectacular find at the New Orleans History Museum on Royal Street. There an entire floor is devoted to the Audubon study of North American birds. Every page of the coffee table book that I had to bring home is filled with gorgeous drawings of birds that John Audubon studied and recreated in life-sized watercolors. He spent years observing birds. Sadly he had to kill the birds to be able to accurately draw them which is a bit disconcerting but ultimately his The Birds of America is a treasure trove of beauty and information. 

I seem to find books that I must have wherever I travel. I laugh at the realization of how much my father impressed me with the joy of reading. I remember learning how to teach reading to very young people and the professor commented that when children witness their parents reading regularly they in turn want to learn that skill. I suppose that my father instilled that desire in me just as his father must have instilled it in him. I know for a fact that my grandfather was an avid reader who was still devouring books at the age of one hundred eight. Reading is firmly entrenched in my psyche and my family tree.

Most of the doodads and trinkets sold in souvenir shops end up being tossed aside over time but books are lovely reminders of our travels and the ways that we felt in different places around the world. I am often paying extra on my returns home because my luggage has become overly heavy with the volumes tucked inside. I gladly pay that price to have the ability to recreate my favorite moments by reading books related to them over and over again.

We can now read almost everything that has ever been written online which is wonderful but does not have the visceral appeal of holding a treasured volume in our hands. There is something quite magical about spending an afternoon sipping on a cup of tea while traveling to other worlds through the wonder of a good book. I suppose that I will continue adding to my collection wherever I go. 

I was born in the early days of what would be called the Baby Boom. I went through my childhood in the fifties and stumbled through my adolescence in the sixties. I witnessed the innovations that would change the way we all lived. I vividly recall listening to comedy shows on the radio and then engaging in the wonders of television with my father. Back then our screen was tiny and the characters who made us laugh were resplendent in shades of black and white. I remember my father laughing so hard that his belly jiggled and I almost immediately inherited his love of a humor and a good joke.

I grew up in a home with a gigantic fan housed in the attic to pull a breeze into our house through open windows. How we survived the humidity and heat of summers in Texas seems almost impossible now but somehow we soldiered through even in our school classrooms. My mother did not install an air conditioner in our home until I was eighteen years old. Even then she only used it for a few hours each day. 

When I was in middle school I watched the first rockets going into space and then into orbits around the earth. I flew on a plane for the first time on my honeymoon. I remember when CNN first arrived with news all day long and we thought that it was a silly idea that would never last. 

One thing after another advanced our society at such a rapid rate that I began to simply take it for granted that inventions would enhance my world to a point where I was literally living in luxury that would have confounded a king of old. I sometimes spoke of our incredible progress with my grandfather whose life spanned two centuries and innumerable innovations. He viewed the world with great optimism because he had seen the world light up with electricity and communication systems that made us more and more aware of each other.

I have travelled to other nations and enjoyed their history and cultures but I always see the aspects of living that we share with each other. People from around the world are no longer foreign to me because in the end it seems that we all yearn for much the same kind of peace and progress in our lives.

One of my high school teachers would tell us that he wanted to make us citizens of the world. I suppose that at least with me he was a success. I have filled my home with books that showed me how much alike the human spirit is no matter where people live. There is so much available information now that I do not feel sheltered from viewing the earth and its people in very personal ways. My friends represent a global patchwork of beautiful souls who continue to teach me about humanity.

Now that I am older I feel grateful for the many advances in medicine that no doubt have enriched my life. I walk without a limp because of a titanium replacement for my knee. I take medication for the “gut trouble” that my grandmother prophesied would one day be my familial fate. I can see clearly because the cataracts that were clouding my vision are gone. I have been saved from terrible diseases because of the vaccines that I have received since I was a child.

The grocery stores that I visit are a cornucopia of variety. I can get tomatoes in the cold of winter and oranges in the months of summer. I enjoy tea from around the world and my pantry if filled with delights that I did not know existed when I was a child. When if think of how fortunate I am I sometimes feel a sense of guilt in knowing that not everyone enjoys the safety and security that is mine. 

My work as a teacher has shown me that there are children who only eat when they are at school because there is no food at home. They only read the books and magazines that I provided them because their families could not afford to splurge on such things. I have listened to children asking Santa to bring them a bed to sleep in. I have heard about a family living in a car behind a funeral home where they freshened up and sometimes entered to stay out of the cold. I have known children who became the parents of their younger siblings while their own mother and father were working double shifts just to pay the rent and keep the lights on in the house. I know that in spite of our incredible human advances there are still far too many people in the world barely eekeing out a living day by day.

I suppose that I engage in my political rants because I see such things and understand that those who have much must never forget those who have so little. My mother taught me that even with a meager income one can share a bit with others. I am willing to share even more. As long as there are people on this earth suffering from want we should all be focusing on helping them rather than fighting with each other and groping for more and more and more. 

When you get to my age the possessions begin to mean less and less. People are far more important than a fancy home or an accumulation of wealth so vast that it can never be spent in a lifetime. Those of us who are Boomers have been lucky for most of our lives but the younger generation is struggling in ways that many of us have never experienced. It is time that we give them the boost that we had in those years when the sky was not even a limit. We should be making it easier for them to be educated if they wish. We should have programs that provide them with ways to get homes. Our focus should not be on getting rid of jobs but instead is should be on creating them. What we do for them will pay big dividends in the end. They should be able to one day look back on their lives realizing how wonderful they have been just as we are able to do. Every decision that we make should be laser focused on creating an ever better world for all people.

Back when I was a young girl growing up in Houston, Texas my mother set aside Saturdays as shopping time. First, however, we had to do the weekly chores. My brothers worked on the lawn and Mama and I cleaned the house from one room to the next. Our incentive to work quickly and efficiently was based on the reality that we would not be able to leave to do our weekend shopping until our mother had deemed our efforts to be up to the standards of perfection that she required. Most of the time we would go to the local mall but the trips that we enjoyed the most involved going to downtown Houston to shop at Foley’s, a local department store that literally had everything imaginable under one roof. 

Sometimes my mother and I would have our hair cut and styled in the salon there. We always went to a man named Mr. Peters who was an artist with scissors. I was never particularly impressed with what he did with my hair but he always made my mother look like a movie star. My brothers would sit at the entrance to the salon looking bored out of their minds. Sometimes they became a bit too rascally forcing my mother to give them the evil eye. 

Next we went from floor to floor looking at the newest merchandise and deciding if there was anything that we needed at that moment. If we found something my mother would often take out her metal charge card that had her name and number embossed on the top. Most of the time she insisted on only purchasing things that she was able to afford in the moment. Somehow because of that we always ended up in the Foley’s basement where all of the bargains were housed.

If we had behaved nicely she would give each of us a dollar to use in case we found something that enchanted us. I recall buying things like a coin purse or maybe a cute pair of socks. One time I found a pair of gloves for the winter. The best investment came at the candy counter where sweet delights sat in class cases making our mouths water at the prospect of enjoying their sweetness. Other times I saved my dollar for the next visit when I might purchase something far nicer. 

Of course Foley’s was a fantasy land at Christmas time. The windows in front of the store were festooned with toys that often ended up on our wish lists. Santa came back there year after year and we sat on his lap in awe of the fact that we were able to get close to the jolly old soul. We had to spit out our requests quickly because the lines were long and he wanted to spend time with every child.

When my father was still alive he often took me to the department store. We would head for the record section and listen to the 45 rpm music that he was considering to bring home. He would ask me what I liked best and often purchase the recording that had pleased me in the moment. 

Of course our next stop would be the book section where he invariably found a new volume to bring home. One time he splurged and bought a set of two gorgeous books filled with fairy tales from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen. He would read one of the stories to me each evening after he got home from work. I still have those books and they are treasures. After a time I liked those tales so much that I developed the incentive to read the stories myself.

The last time I accompanied my father to a department store he confided that he had put a special gift for my mother in the layaway, a system for buying and then paying without interest until the cost of the item was secured. He showed me the lamps that he had chosen for her birthday. He imagined them sitting on her dressing table providing light while she put on her makeup and combed her hair. When he died the lamps were still in the store with one more payment to make. I tearfully told my mother about the gift that he had wanted to give her and we made a special trip to secure the lovely items. I still have one of them in my guest room. The other one was accidentally knocked over years later and broke into a thousand pieces. I cried when I heard what had happened. 

After my father died I don’t recall visiting the book section with my mother but sometimes I took that dollar that she gave me and used it to buy a 45 rpm record. I gave most of the ones I had to my daughter a few years ago and she still plays them now and again. 

The nice thing about Foley’s back in the day is that they had a restaurant inside the store. On most of our trips we stopped there for an afternoon pick me up. I always felt elegant there because most of the time eating out meant grabbing a burger from Chuck Wagon or stopping for waffles at One’s A Meal. 

After shopping we lugged our bags down Main Street to one of the movie theaters to watch whatever film was showing. The theaters were as lovely as the department store with gilded ceilings and velvet curtains hiding the screen until it was time for the show. Mama would give us a quarter for refreshments which was more than generous back then. I usually opted for some candy and popcorn and often had change to put in my piggy bank back home.

After the movie we travelled back home either in our own car or inside a city bus. It always felt as though we had experienced something magical with those downtown visits. Eventually Foley’s became Macy’s and one day the downtown store was closed permanently. That was a very sad day for me. 

Those old department stores were glorious and the only time I have ever felt the same magic of my youthful Saturday adventures was in London when we visited Harrod’s and then went down to Selfridge’s which reminded me so much of the department stores of old. Many of them are gone but a few continue to attempt to prosper. One of my dreams is to visit Macy’s in downtown New York City at Christmas time one year. Now that my granddaughter is living there maybe I will finally make it happen.