All It Takes Is A Little Love

Bowdoin College is nestled in a small town in Maine. It has a long history of excellence in education. One of its many traditions is to have incoming freshmen students sign a book that contains the names of every person who has ever attended the school. The list of famous people is long and illustrious and what graduates of Bowdoin College know is that every individual who attends leaves ready to make a positive difference in the world. 

Bowdoin College has multiple traditions associated with graduation. The ceremony is held outside on the lush lawn shaded by ancient oaks. The farewell speeches come from students who are selected for the inspiriting content of the essays that they submit for consideration. This year the commencement was held under stormy skies and one of the speakers was a young man known to the students and faculty as Weatherspoon. Somehow both the weather and the speaker tapped into the feelings that so many of this year’s graduates are feeling.

Weatherspoon is a poet whose ability to artfully put words together has already been recognized in the books of his work that have been published. His story and his speech for the 2025 class of Bowdoin College are perhaps some of the most inspiring that I have ever heard. They touched my heart in ways that only those who have worked with students who are often ignored and underserved will ever completely understand.

Weatherspoon’s life has been one of relentless struggle and ultimate success. His family was poor even to the point of being homeless for a time. His single mom worked hard for her children but the meagerness of her income often fell short of providing them with all of the necessities that most Americans take for granted. At one time Weatherspoon even lived with a foster family until his mother was able to pull her life together enough to provide a bit of stability. 

Weatherspoon’s story is one of chaos and uncertainty and yet he is known by his classmates and his professors as one of the kindest and most optimistic persons that they have ever known. He has found purpose in life in spite of the many challenges that might have threatened to lead him astray. His teachers and family members understood his talents and urged him to use them to forge a pathway out of the generational difficulties that had battered both him and his ancestors. With the encouragement and support of programs and people dedicated to insuring that he would be able to hone his skills he has become the first college graduate in the history of his family. 

Weatherspoon will soon be heading to Los Angeles where a screenwriting job already awaits him. His teachers and fellow students know how talented he is and believe that his is a name that we will certainly hear again. When I read his speech I thought of the students that I have taught who came from similar backgrounds. Many of them were the first to earn high school diplomas. They lived in difficult circumstances but with hard work rose above the societal ills threatening to bring them down. They left our care to travel across the Untied State to colleges and universities that identified their skills and produced incredibly talented individuals. They perfectly demonstrate the value and importance of finding and nurturing outstanding young people who often are hidden in unexpected places. 

I remember a student who came to me in tears during his senior year of high school. He was distraught because he was in danger of failing. He explained that his grandfather had given him a family heirloom because he would be the first in his family to complete high school. He did not know how he would be able to face the people who so believed in him if he did not make it to the finish line. He and I crafted a plan for resurrecting his grades. We spoke with each of his teachers to determine what he needed to do. He worked like a madman and was soon earning top marks in every class. He even got the highest score on his senior research paper. He was overjoyed in the self-realization that he was indeed a brilliant young man with incredible potential for the future. 

I have witnessed so many young people’s lives being turned around because the laws and programs in our nation provided them with the funding and safety nets that allowed them to focus on their studies. The opportunities that we afford students are never wasted. Programs encouraging diversity, equality and inclusion lead to the discovery of young people with great minds, talents and creativity who might otherwise be overlooked. Without concerted effort they might be deemed to be without merit simply because they have not had the financial security to fund the kind of experiences that so often result in higher scores on standardized tests. The goal of our nation should be to look for these gifted souls wherever they may be. Feeding their bodies and their minds should be a top priority. There are Weatherspoons in every city and town. We should always be dedicated to discovering them and nurturing them. They will ultimately pay their way forward just as Weatherspoon’s teachers and friends know that he will do.

I see the success of my former students who were like Weatherspoon and I feel a sense of contentment in knowing that I was part of a system that focused not on individual test scores and grades but on the totality of each individual. It is so important to understand that everyone has something special to offer the world if we are willing to invest in his or her development. Gutting programs that keep our young moving forward is a huge mistake. Instead we should be investing in them no matter what their circumstances may appear to be. Instead of increasing the riches of the wealthy we should be concentrating our funding on those who have the lowest incomes, especially for those who are young. Weatherspoon will change the world and we will be all the better because our systems gave him the tools he needed to reach for the stars. I hope we are wise enough to keep helping the Weatherspoons to be the best among us.

When my grandfather was a teenager he was able to land a job in a general store. He was mostly on his own with only a distant uncle serving as the guardian of the small inheritance that he received when his grandmother died. She had raised him after his mother’s death during childbirth but when he was thirteen she was gone and so he found ways to support himself with little jobs here and there. The position in the store kept him fed in a time when a depression was decimating the country. This was not in the twentieth century but at the end of the nineteenth century during the so called Gilded Age. 

Grandpa often described the desperation of ordinary Americans who became so despairing that they joined protest groups or resorted to theft to keep their families from starving. He saw Coxey’s Army marching through his town on its way to Washington DC with a ragtag group citizens determined to get the notice of Congress and hopefully get some help. He also witnessed his neighbors stealing from the store where he worked and sometimes even looked away from their thefts when he saw the dire situations in which they lived.

Later, when my grandfather was the head of a family he would all too often find himself out of work during the Great Depression. He told me that people, including himself, would do whatever it took to stay alive. He described driving to South Texas to purchase cabbages from the farmers there and then selling them for a small profit that allowed him to purchase food for his family for one more week. He often commented that a truly good man would move heaven and earth to take care of his children and that might even include moving, lying and in the worst case scenarios stealing. 

I never got the idea that my grandfather ever had to become a thief but he certainly moved over and over again following the jobs and seeking the places where people were kind enough to work together and share whatever they had. He admired people who were brave enough to take risks in pursuit of survival and was never too proud to do the most menial of jobs or even to take charity if needed. 

I think of the wisdom of my grandfather quite often, especially in the present times when our nation is divided as to what to do about people who have immigrated to our country without going through the proper channels to get here. I wonder how many of those souls are just like my grandfather was when he literally took pride in keeping his family housed and fed no matter what it took to do so. He was a protector for all of his one hundred eight years and I think he would have seen the immigrants from a different point of view than just the kind of black and white indictments that deem them to be criminals for taking the risk of getting their families to a safe place. 

I worked with many children who were brought to our nation without proper papers. They were mostly from proud families like my own. Their parents worked long hours seven days a week to provide them with the opportunities that were unavailable in their home nations. They did the kind of jobs that most Americans do not want. They were not taking from anyone. They paid their bills and their taxes and taught their children to love this nation and to be grateful for their good fortune. Nonetheless they often conveyed their fears and hoped that one day their families would no longer feel unwelcome even as they worked so hard to prove themselves. 

I suppose that my grandfather showed me how to look at the situation of those who have immigrated to our nation illegally a bit differently from those who want them gone. While I am not so naive as to believe that none of them had bad intentions and indeed have engaged in criminal acts I know from experience that the vast majority of them only wanted better lives for their children. They knew that their existence would be difficult but it was a sacrifice that they made out of love. Indeed they were not so different from my own maternal grandparents who were lucky to be allowed to come to the United States without any restrictions or quotas in the early twentieth century. 

My heart breaks for the people who are being hunted by the present administration. The fears inside immigrant communities are wreaking havoc on people who have been serving us well with their skills and willingness to work long hours at jobs that few of us would ever wish to do. Not all of them are illegal but in the sweeping deportations that are happening across America even those who are here with permission are being uprooted and sent to uncertain futures. Children are being handcuffed as though they are criminals. The whole situation is absurd and should be frightening to all of us. 

I learned a long time ago as an educator that I had the power to rile up my students enough that they would lose their composure and strike out against me. I never used that power because baiting someone is vile and yet this is what our nation appears to be doing with both those who are being sent to detention centers and jail and those who are defending them. What is happening is very wrong and surely we all can see that. It is time to put a stop to the insanity and cruelty of it all. 

I don’t know where this will lead but the potential for the destruction of all of our freedoms is frightening. There is a vindictiveness overtaking our land that is unAmerican and those of us who love our nation know that we must voice our concerns while we still have the right to do so.

The last five years have been tough for many people throughout the world. It would have been difficult enough just to endure the losses and sacrifices of the worldwide pandemic but life had to go on. People had to work, care for family members, endure challenges and attempt to stay sane and happy through the uncertainty of it all. Most of us had to keep moving one foot forward in spite of all the challenges. Some folks had to face wars and natural disasters that added insult to the injuries that they had already known. These years have been hard on all people and if ever there was a time when we needed good people to serve and guide us to come together it is surely now. Instead we are divided and anxious as our president and much of our Congress has decided that it is a good time to remove many of our safety nets and install people to tear down and destroy rather than to slowly and thoughtfully improve our sense of well being.

I do understand why so many Americans are turned off, unwilling to delve deeply into learning what has actually been happening since Donald Trump assumed office as our president for a second time. It’s easier just to live as though everything is okay as long as it does not personally touch any of us. I’d like nothing more than to simply pretend that I am okay with the chaos that is disrupting people’s lives because I am not being affected by most of it. I can be almost invisible and invulnerable simply because I am an old white woman with a nice home, food in the pantry and a pension for my years of teaching children. I should just be going on trips and enjoying the fruits of my labors rather than spending hours each day attempting to learn what Trump and his legions are doing to change the very nature of our democracy. 

I always promised myself that I would never close the blinds on my windows and pretend not to see innocents being hurt by despots. My ancestors fought in the American Revolution and with the Union Army in the Civil War. I felt it was my duty to honor their valor by doing my part to insure that our freedoms will never be taken for granted. I vowed that I would always be willing to be a voice for those who are silenced. I never imagined that things would become as dire as they now seem to be. It never occurred to me that human nature would be such that those not directly impacted by the lawless decisions of the present administration would fall for an endless stream of lies and propaganda. 

I think of my seventh grade teacher who warned us that such a thing might happen anywhere. She shockingly told us that even in our great nation lies and half truths thrive unless we take the initiative to point them out. It is on all of us as American citizens to be the watchdogs of our republic. We begin that process with our voices and our votes. If we only endorse those who give us what we want while ignoring the pain and needs of our fellow Americans we are doing a disservice to everyone including ourselves.

I have always enjoyed studying the history of our nation and of the world. Even as a child I saw the patterns of evil that seem to always exist in the darkest corners of our humanity. I confronted my parents when I saw Black people being forced to the back of the buses that I rode on to downtown Houston. I knew innately that segregation was wrong. Nobody had to influence me to know what was horrific about hateful people. I reveled in goodness when I saw examples of it. I constantly thought about our human natures and our tendencies to become tribal and even violent to maintain control and status. In spite of all the mistakes of the United States like ever allowing slavery or conquering and abusing the Native Americans, I still believed that most of us shared a common desire to be honest and contrite about such original sins. I believed in a slow progress toward enlightened thinking and acceptance of each other regardless of differences. 

Sadly I did not take into account the fact that many of the worst aspects of human nature continue to smolder in generation after generation. Humans make progress and then along comes a time when the haters of the world find ways to gain power and to exercise their domination over those that they fear and despise. The kings and potentates of Europe thought of themselves as gifts from God for centuries. Authoritarians have played on the worries of common people again and again. The powerful vie for wealth and power while the rest of us are simply trying to live our lives in peace. 

I wish that it were easier for me to pretend that everything is fine. I wish that I did not worry so much about people that I do not even know when I witness abuse of them. As long as I am okay why should I be so anxious and torn apart because certain groups or individuals are being targeted without understanding or compassion? Why do I listen to some media outlets with so much disdain for the untruths and gaslighting that they are constantly feeding to the public? 

Perhaps it has always been inevitable that I would use my voice as tiny as it is to attempt to speak out for those who have been muted. I heard the stories of my mother and her family being targeted with slings and arrows only because they were immigrants from a part of the world that people had judged to be lazy and dirty. I listened to my father speaking truths about our nation’s history. I heard stories from my grandfather about the horrors of the so called good old days. My teachers were honest with me. My mother-in-law shared her insights about human nature with me. I am altruistic. I worked not for money, but to do good in the world. I suppose that it is in my nature to disrupt the contentment that I should just simply enjoy because I can easily hide among the favored people of our president. Instead I worry day and night that the beautiful things that the Untied States have done will be vindictively tossed aside. Thus I cannot and will not be quiet no matter how difficult it becomes. Thankfully there are many others like me and I have the courage of my ancestors to guide me. I will persist. 

My husband and I moved into our present home in 2025. We had not been here very long when a woman who lived across the street stopped her car to greet us and welcome us to the neighborhood. She explained that she had not come over earlier to introduce herself because she had been driving back and forth to the hospital where her premature baby girl had spent many weeks fighting to hang onto life. The child had been born so small that diapers had to be adapted to her tiny size. Her lungs were barely functioning and whether or not she would make it was touch and go. 

Eventually the tiny girl came home with her parents who were delightful and incredibly gracious and friendly. I truly felt blessed that they lived so close to us and we engaged in a friendship that rivaled those we had made in our old neighborhood. Sadly, the couple decided to move closer to work and were gone much sooner that we had hoped. 

We kept in touch via Facebook and watched as they brought home another baby. This time it was a boy. In the twenty years since we first met them so much has happened. They adopted a  child from India and entertained us and all of their friends with video cook offs during Covid when most of us were mostly staying home. Their joy and vitality was a kind of panacea for our isolation during that time. 

As most parents do, they shared stories about their children. The eldest daughter, Maya, developed a beautiful voice and headed off to the University of Houston where she would study in the Moore’s School of Music. There she would enjoy the best of two worlds, living on campus but also being close enough to meet up with her family now and again. Her choral performances became a diversion for her proud mother and father and for those of us following the beautiful story of her family. 

Recently Maya sang a solo with her church choir. It demonstrated the culmination of her hard work, but also the glories of the God who saved her at birth and gave her the lungs to praise with a beautiful voice. Her talent is stunning and I literally cried tears of joy and appreciation as  I listened to her perfect pitch and the angelic notes that came from her beautiful heart. 

I am not someone who normally cries easily. In fact I tend to go through funerals with a dry eye. It is only later when no one is around that my body lets go of the emotions I am feeling. The only time that I have zero control over shedding tears is when I hear beautiful music. The notes of a grand performance by another person seems to push away all of my inhibitions and efforts to control my composure. There is something spiritual about the ability to humans to make sounds that touch our very being. 

I have sobbed uncontrollably at a live performance of Phantom of the Opera but also when listening to a recording of that musical at home. I cried at a concert of music written by Hans Zimmer and when I listen to Jesus Christ Superstar each Easter. It did not surprise me when the tears rolled down my face after hearing Maya singing with her incredible voice. Somehow she brought out all of the feelings that I have for her family and for the glory of creativity and talent that raises humans to a state that is heavenly. 

We have a tendency in our world today to want our youngsters to cultivate some kind of abilities to work at a trade that will provide them with jobs that pay them enough to thrive and survive. While this is often the goal of education and the guidance that we give them, we all too often neglect to encourage them to develop the talents that make them soar with joy. We look at music, acting, comedy, writing as being luxuries that few of us can afford to pursue. We prefer seeing our young being practical and realistic. The arts have taken a back seat to science and technology in our adulation even as history has shown us that artistic talents live on through the centuries. 

We go to museums to see the artwork work of ancient Greeks. We are in awe of paintings and sculptures created by the great masters. Music is passed down from generation to generation and yet we too often become wary if one of our children desires to try a hand at forging a career in the arts. We worry that they will have dreary lives is they are not more practical and yet we all know of individuals who have followed their hearts and engaged in a lifetime of the arts and been some of the happiest people we have ever known. 

Money and status are not the be all and end all. I should know. I have been a teacher. Even with an advanced degree I made far less money that my peers who chose careers in business or technology. I came home happy each day that I worked which was worth more to me than double the salary. There really are some things that money cannot buy. 

I wish that we would encourage our most talented people as a society rather than worrying that that they may not be as financially secure as we would like them to be. We need the arts in our lives and it is a great gift whenever someone has the talent to bring us joy. A true artist, like Maya, is truly a gift to us all.  

I recently posted a photo of me and my grandson at a protest rally in Houston, Texas. I was wearing a shirt with the image of the Statue of Liberty and holding a sign that proclaimed, “Hate does not make us great.” 

I received a number of replies from people who agreed with the sentiments of my stance, but those among my friends and relatives who disagree with my political views mostly ignored the whole thing. Only one person, a cousin whom I have known and loved since we were children, responded. His comment said, “So let’s start by loving Trump, not hating him.” 

I have to admit that I was a bit taken aback by my cousin’s response, but not surprised. I know that he is a strong supporter of Donald Trump and a believer that Trump’s ideas are good for the country. He is also a good man who has raised a wonderful loving family. He is a few years younger than I am so I have actually been in his life since the day he was born and in spite of what he may think of me and my views I love him and always will. Nonetheless I will continue to insist that Trump is a hate-filled man.

There is ample proof of Trump’s cruelty on any given day. He continually insults women in vile ways that would have been considered quite gauche and ungentlemanly in the past. He lies constantly with almost every word that comes out of his mouth. His disdain for minorities of every sort is apparent and he does not just despise them, he seems intent on torturing them for his own amusement. He belittles people who attempt to speak the truth and almost begs people to love and admire them. There is so little about him to stir my compassion other than the fact that he is a sad creature who makes himself so unlikeable. My sense of morality and kindness does indeed feel something for him, but it will never be love as long as he is so vindictively cruel to anyone who does not march in cadence with him. 

I know that my cousin means well and has his reasons for loving Trump, but even as I attempt not to hate anyone, it is impossible for me to love a person who inflicts so much misery on the world. Unlike many Americans I cannot see a hint of kindness in Donald Trump. He pretends to be a Christian man but I rarely see him attending church or actually leading a prayer. On the few times he has publicly been inside a church for the funerals of Jimmy Carter and Pope Francis he seemed confused by the readings and rituals and eventually fell asleep. 

I believe that it is between God and Trump as to their relationship. I would not presume to know what is really inside Trump’s head anymore than I would want someone to make presumptions about me. I only know that even if it is quite naive, I believe in the concept of redemption. Jesus told us that when we genuinely ask for forgiveness and enact our intentions of changing our hateful ways, we are saved. I would like to believe that somewhere in Trump’s heart there is a speck of decency that makes him truly care about all people, not just those who loyally pledge their fealty to him. The problem is that so far I have not observed any indication that he is ready to stop being a bully and become a true man of peace and love. 

Thus I will continue to insist that Trump’s form of hate will not make our country or any place on earth great. Love and kindness and unflinching morality are the things that bring out the best in humankind. Attempting to genuinely understand and appreciate those who are different from ourselves builds a powerful force of cooperation and unity. Our goals as a nation should not be to diminish but to grow and prosper together. Hate never created happiness, peacefulness or success. It can seem to devastate those we call our enemies for a time but such effects are temporary and ultimately leave out too many among us. 

So I will tell my cousin that he will always have my love no matter how much our beliefs differ He is a wonderful part of the story of my life. I marvel in his success as a man, a husband, a father and a grandfather. He is a talented photographer and a man of faith. He was a good son to his parents. He brought me pleasure as we grew up together. For these things I cherish him, but I suppose that we will never agree politically, especially when it comes to loving Donald Trump. 

I will persist in my resistance of Donald Trump’s destruction of the nation that I have so loved for seventy six years. Those who know me well realize that I do not hate. I remember a fellow teacher once proclaiming that I would be able to find something positive about the foulest person on the planet. I suppose that when it comes to Trump my only kudo for him would be that he appears to be a masterful salesman. Sadly he is selling a pile of junk.