I am writing to you today not as a Republican, or a Democrat or from the perspective of any other political party. I am offering my position as a Patriot, as someone that was moved by the act of standing in the rotunda of the National Archives, looking down at the original constitution. A document that created our nation and the rule of law as it was written 233 years ago. It was a model for the world and many countries have followed our lead. Our founders would be proud.
But something has gone terribly wrong. Somewhere, over the last thirty years, we have lost the concept of what can I do for my country and settled for what can my country for me. We have gone from caring about each other to caring only about me and if something is good for me, who cares what damage that does to someone else. It’s not the first time it’s happened here, but the first time it has seemed so contagious.
It was back during the Civil War when it first raised its ugly head. It was a war that was disguised as a fight for state’s rights but was truly about the abolition of slavery. Think about it. Why did the North fight the battle? There were no slaves in their neighborhood or in their city or town. It didn’t affect the average man one bit. They fought because it was wrong, wrong because one man claimed the right to own another man. So wrong that they send hundreds of thousands to their maker to fight against that right. The South fought to keep the slaves, not because there was any joy in owning people, but because the economics of building their farms required people to work for only room and board. It didn’t matter how awful that existence was for the slave as long as it was good for the plantation owner.
Whether we want to admit it or not, we are back at that same time, 155 years later. The divide between left and right has never been wider or the anger more intense. The deep disagreements have opened the door to the fringe groups slinking out of the woodwork to spew their vileness all over the streets. The battle lines are no longer geographic and the violence is brought into our home by the internet, with both sides being manipulated and sharing that manipulation across our screens.
As I Patriot, I stand by your right to have an opinion. But the time has come for all of us to exhibit some responsibility for the stuff we post. If you think that the name calling and disrespect for each other is improving the country or the world, if you think that the world you are contributing to is a place you want your children to grow up in or your offspring 2, 3 or 4 generations forward to live in, then you are deeply depraved. I saw a man share a post that said he hated every person of my political party and that we should all die. I counted him as a friend, I have spent many hours sitting in a room with him, bought goods from his company and now he wants me dead. We are no longer friends.
All I ask is that you take five minutes to fact check the validity of a story before you share it. Prove the statement to your conscience, assuming is it still functioning and verify the facts. I adore my kids, crazy about all of them and I fear for the society that you are creating. The next Civil War will not be New York fighting against Georgia 900 miles away. This one will be fought on all of our streets, neighbor against neighbor, family member against family member. Is that really what you want for your kids.
The greatest casualty of such a war will be the republic itself and the democracy created by that document sitting in a glass cabinet under that rotunda. Will the last person leaving that shining city on a hill please turn off the lights and don’t forget the flag.
I first became a fan of the NBA during Michael Jordan’s career. I was mesmerized by his talent, his confidence. When he retired, I drifted away from professional basketball, going back to the college game. When Kobe Bryant came on the scene, Michael was retired and though he unretired for two seasons with Washington, he was but a journeyman compared to his career stats. Kobe made it clear he believed he was the next MJ. He brandished an arrogance and confidence that was required to get the eyes of the fans on him and his Lakers. It didn’t work for me. I remained on the NBA sidelines.
When Kobe became news again was during the controversy of a sexual contact he had with a woman. In a time prior to the Me-Too movement, he set the standard for how to take responsibility for his actions. He didn’t blame the accuser; didn’t say she knew what she was getting into. No…he took responsibility, like a man. He apologized to the victim. He took the time to empathize, to see the event through her eyes, explained how he misunderstood the moment. Then apologized to his wife, to his family and to his fans and his team. Yes…he stood up like a man and begged forgiveness for his actions. There was nothing he could do on the basketball court that could ever compare to the actions he took after the accusations came to light.
Kobe Bryant played 20 seasons with the Lakers, playing on five championship teams, retiring in 2016. He played in 18 all-star games. He fell just short of MJ’s numbers but where he truly made his mark was off the court, when his career was over. It is estimated that his net worth was over 600 million dollars, but the true mark he left behind was the influence over the world in general.
He promoted service, giving back to the world, leading others to a better way to live. There was a story about how he was driving through the streets of LA and came across a traffic accident. He didn’t drive away, didn’t keep going and call 911. He pulled his Range Rover to the curb and got out and offered aide to the victim. He didn’t view his fame or his wealth as placing him above others. He wanted to make a difference.
And make a difference he did. He and his wife, Vanessa formed a foundation to reach out to kids in need, aiding in developing physical and social skills. He gave away millions of dollars to charities and worked to help the homeless. He dedicated his time to helping others in all walks of life. He spoke out often about social injustice. He was dedicated to his wife and his children and set an example for the fortunate athletes of the world to give back their blessings to those in need. At the time of his passing, he was writing book aimed at inspiring underprivileged children. As with others, he urged them, never give up.
Kobe Bryant was lost to the world on a helicopter that crashed into a hillside on a foggy Southern California morning. He was on his way to coach a youth basketball team whose roster included his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna, who also died in the crash. The mission I am on, the books I have written and the message they carry are about taking our eyes off of ourselves and focusing them instead on the world around you. I am currently but a small player in that arena. But that arena doesn’t require you to be 6’5” or be able to stuff a basketball or be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Kobe’s message in that arena was we all can make a difference. We can. You may not be able to reach out to millions of people, but if you can touch just one, if you can improve the life of one single person for one single day, then you have contributed just as much as Kobe did. In that arena, you too can be an MVP (Most Valuable Person). So, step up…make a difference. Carry on the torch that Kobe Bryant held high, like others before him. Let that torch show the way towards making this world a better place.
I have to admit, I get as hyped up about the holidays as the next person, maybe even more so. This Christmas was a special one in my household with thirteen people around the dinner table and half a cow in my oven. I haven’t seen such a crowd in my house since one of my kids last New Year’s Eve party, so maybe eight years ago. It was a joyous time. My house is always decorated to the limit but this year it was appreciated by so many more. The tree was up by Thanksgiving and the rest of the lights and frills not far behind. When it all came down ten days ago, it left my house feeling empty, almost spartan. Oh well, only forty-five weeks until we start all over again.
I suppose I can wait ten months to start pulling out the ornaments. What I don’t want to wait for is the recycling of the Christmas spirit. Why is it saved for only a few weeks every year? Yes, the season can be exhausting. Planning, shopping and coordinating all the parties and celebrations. At the same time, there truly is a peace to the world. Adversaries in an adversarial world stop to smile and wish others a happy holiday and a joyous New Year. Hatchets are buried or at least forgotten for a while. Political foes become old friends. Distant relatives become temporarily closer and strangers become new friends. I personally watched a young man chasing carts in a Wegman’s parking lot stop and wish every customer a “Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and a Happy Kwanzaa. Not just to a few, to everyone.
What event occurred in this country that has made us so angry, so tribal all the time. Governing was, at its best, the art of compromise. I might not agree with your politics but I can still like you as a person. Stance was an entrance into debate, finding a common ground among varying positions, seeking in the end what’s best for my constituents, what’s best for the country. Now, each opinion, each proposal becomes a personal Berlin Wall where everyone on my side is my comrade and everyone over there is my enemy. Statements like all democrats/liberals are… or all republicans/conservatives are… has no place in political discourse. Not in the country I love.
Christmas is all about love., C’mon Gary, don’t get sappy on us. Really? Think about it. When you wish someone a Merry Christmas, don’t you really mean it? There are plenty of other things you could say, like hello, goodbye or excuse me, that don’t carry with them a wish for joy, a wish for happiness. That is what the “merry” part infers. We don’t ask people their political opinion first, whether or not they voted for this guy or that girl. It doesn’t matter. We wish them happiness just the same. What is it about the season that melts our crusty hearts, opens us up to receiving and giving good cheer?
It is the middle of January. Maybe some embers still burn in our Christmas spirit. What better time to carry the spirit forward? There are so many parts to the human existence. Maybe they are great parents, maybe charitable givers, outstanding in their field, great athletes, thoughtful wives and husbands, exceptional leaders. They want what they view as best for those they love. Why must we judge people simply by which lever they pull in a voting booth?
Think about it. If you were lying flat on your back with chest pains and shortness of breath and pain radiating down your arm and someone from the crowd drops to your side to perform CPR, are you going to stop them and ask, “Say, who did you vote for? I don’t want some damn liberal saving my life.” I didn’t think so.
I have been intrigued, this holiday season, by the concept of companies loosely known as “For profit charities.” These are businesses that give away a share of their profits for each item you buy.
The company that first came to mind was Bombas socks. Their ads tell us that for every pair of socks you buy, they donate a pair to someone in need. I saw an interview with the two owners of the company that explained they add the cost of the second pair of socks into their cost structure before marketing and promoting their selections.
I checked out their website and while you might consider their prices a bit high, when you consider there is a charitable function at work, you give their price structure a second look. As recent as a year ago, before the new tax laws, I might have preferred to consider my own choices for places to spend my charitable efforts. Now, it is harder to declare charitable giving for most of us middle classers so I have nothing to lose by letting others give to the charities of their choice with my money.
As I started to consider Christmas gifts for my loved ones, why wouldn’t I want my dollars to help those less fortunate?
This is a company that started with their hearts in the right place. They were committed to making Bombas a desired place of employment. As a result, they do not lose staff to other opportunities. In fact, only three employees have left, according to an article in Inc.. Bombas employees have a good thing going and they know it. This company has established a contingency fund, known as a situational fund, that exists for the employees for unforeseen circumstances. Add to that unlimited vacation time, unlimited at home work time and unlimited sick time and you have created an atmosphere that is hard to beat.
They are not alone. Companies like TOMS shoe, Warby Parker eye ware, Better World Books and Figs, medical ware and you can begin to see a growing trend. How long will it be before Chevrolet gives away a car for every one you buy. One can only hope.
So, when I sat down to pick out presents this holiday season, one of my first stops was Bombas socks. Maybe my kids will say, “oh, how nice, what an original idea, socks for Christmas.” Mind you they won’t say that out loud but… In my mind, I know there will be someone, maybe a family in need, that will cherish their socks for the warmth that is missing in their lives. Maybe it will lift their hopes for a better year to come. Maybe provide the final motivation to do whatever it takes to turn their situation around. One person’s pair of socks is another’s Christmas bonus.
Isn’t that what Christmas is all about. I have published three books that implore people to make a difference in the world, to lift each other up, to touch people in a positive way. There is never a better time of year to act on such a goal, to take your eyes off of yourself. The proverbial gift that keeps on giving.
Reach out this season. Drop your loose change in a red kettle, but don’t stop there. Take a step beyond your loved ones and make someone’s holiday special. Buy a pair of socks!
How many pieces can you spare?
First comes the definition of love. For me, it means giving away a piece of my heart, a piece you never expect to be returned. Love is not what you get from something but instead it is what you give away, freely. It’s taking your eyes off of your own wants, needs and desires and focusing them instead on the needs of the object of your love.
Love has a calming effect, as if all is right with the world. There is no desperation, no panic. Those are signs of infatuation and not love. Trust me, I have learned that lesson well, a lesson that stole years from my life. The type of love of which I speak is not simply a romantic love, although, it certainly can be. This love that lasts can include children, grandchildren and the closest of friends. It is a love that stays with you forever, that warms your soul and become a memory etched in place for an eternity. To each, you carve off a slice of your heart that stays with them in their safe keeping. Miraculously, cutting away that slice does not leave a hole behind, only a gap that will be filled by the love you receive from others. It is the original barter system.
What has brought this on today is reviewing my life with my children. There certainly have been moments of hurt and anger, times of separation and distance, but from the moment you witness their entrance into your life, said life will never be the same. The love is instantaneous and deep and never waivers. You begin as their provider of life, you feed them, change their diaper, provide safety and comfort. It grows to emotional guidance and life education and as they fly from the nest, you remain available for whatever support they need. Maybe it’s an ear to listen, advice offered or financial assistance, but interlaced within all acts of giving is a new expression of love, another way to say, I’ve got your back.
While I have no grandchildren of my own, I have heard how that same love is magically created on day one and it’s just as sweet the second time around. I have had the joy of sharing the grandchildren of a significant other and you can’t help but to find yourself giving away your heart all over again.
So, to the original question, how many pieces of your heart can you give away? My answer is that whatever you give unselfishly in love and service, comes back to you ten-fold. The more you love others, the more will love you. The more you serve others, the more will serve you. By that equation, the number of slices you can pass out has no related figure other than, infinity.
With that in mind, my advice is don’t wait for Mother’s Day or Father’s Day to express your love. Don’t wait for birthdays, anniversaries or Valentine’s Day to remind others how much you appreciate their love. Don’t wait for Thanksgiving to be thankful or Christmas to be a singular day of giving. Love every day, serve others as to their needs and you will never be alone, never feel unwanted and never wonder where you reside on the priority list of others. Love and it comes back, reach out to others and the favor will be returned. As for all the slices you have given away, you will never spend a moment missing them.
I had the opportunity recently to watch one of my favorite movies, The Emperor’s Club. It was made about fifteen years ago and stars Kevin Kline. I won’t go into the plot here but I highly recommend it. What brings it to mind this morning is one of the opening lines. Mr. Hundert declares that your character is your fate. The moment I heard it; I knew it would be the focus of my next blog.
Think about that statement, “your character is your fate.” It fits well into the message that drives my writing. The idea of integrity comes up often in my books and my favorite definition of integrity is “who you are when nobody’s looking.” The way you choose to live your life, the manner in which you carry yourself, the number of people you lift up will open doors for you that others of more questionable character will even know existed. There is nothing or no one that has more control, more input into your outcome than you. It’s not chance, or fate, or Karma that defines your path. It is you and only you. What month, day and minute you were born is irrelevant. It’s not your environment, your birth order, a Ouija board or a sooth-sayer that determines your future. It is strictly the choices you make, your honor and your persistence that creates opportunities for each of us. Let’s look at each.
Your Choices – A prime factor in the results we encounter in life is the choices we make, knowing that for every behavior, there are consequences. The consequences might not be immediate, but sooner or later they will arrive. I read a book once entitled “You sat on the Burner, You sit with the Blisters.” Those choices you make, in large part, defines your character. I won’t offer a long list of negative choices, what’s important is that you understand that however you live your life, your outcomes will be what you chose, what you deserve.
Persistence – In a speech to The Harrow School, late in 1941, Winston Churchill said; “Never give in, never give in, never, never, never…except to convictions of honor and good sense.” If you know you are on the right path, that you have made sound choices, that you have integrity, never give in to obstacles, to moments of grief or failure, to loss of loved ones or similar heartbreak. My main character in the Shepherd Chronicles, David Hynes said once, “As long as your get-ups exceed your knock-downs by one, you are still in the game.” As an author. I have spoken to many successful writers who share tales of the exorbitant number of rejections of manuscripts that they receive before they finally break through. Had they given up at fifty rejections or a hundred, then millions of readers would have missed out on some great novels. “Persistence makes the impossible possible, the possible likely and the likely definite.”
Honor – One of the driving messages of my books is that the true measure of a person is not the size of their home, the value of their car or the money in their bank account. The truest measure is the number of people he or she lifts up, the number of people they touch in a positive way.” Through the laws of behaviors and consequences, I believe that those that give back, that take their eyes off themselves, will find that good things will come back to them tenfold. I have no scoreboard or chart to prove that statement, just faith in the way of the world.
So, choose well, carry yourself with integrity and never, never, never give in. Sounds simple doesn’t it. My suggestion is; follow this simple formula and watch the gateway to your path in life swing wide open. Success in life is out there waiting to be had, why not you?
During my short time as an author, I have had many conversations with people within the publishing industry. They send along one universal piece of advice. Be persistent. While that is true in all walks of life, it seems to be most prevalent to authors. There is story after story of people becoming best-selling authors but only after receiving rejection after rejection. I have to tried to absorb the advice into every area of my life.
I suffered through another example this week of persistence. After spending many hours writing, I decided I needed to go for a walk to clear my head. It had been a while since I had walked the Ellicott Creek bike path but this felt like a good day for it. I dressed comfortably for the walk and got down to what shoes to wear. Not wanting to get blisters for the five-mile walk, I selected my Adidas Sambas. They were my indoor soccer shoes and had to be over twenty years old so they were well broken in.
The plan was to start at the Niagara Falls Blvd end and walk two and a half miles out and then back. I was just short of the turn-around point when I felt an irritation growing on the sole of my right foot. Not wanting a blister, I decided to take a seat on the bench coming up and clear whatever is causing the irritation. I sat down, lifted up my foot and attempted to pull off my shoe. As I did, the sole of the Samba became partially separated from the rest of the shoe. I decided to start heading back a bit early, not knowing how long the shoe would hold out.
I put the shoe back on and starting walking. To my chagrin, the heal section of the sole started flapping loudly with each step. Yet I persisted. After twenty or thirty steps of flapping, it stopped but it felt worse. I turned around and looked back at the blacktop trail and saw the entire sole of my left Samba laying fifteen feet behind me. I probably made it a hundred or so yards when the remains of my left shoe totally blew up, coming apart at the seams. Yet I persisted. I sat on the next bench and removed both shoes, stuffed my white low-cut socks in my pocket and walked barefoot on the black top.
Over a mile and a half to go. I said goodbye to my beloved Sambas at the next garbage can, with a moment of silence, and kept walking. After about a half a mile, I realized blisters were no longer an issue but burning my feet was. The black top was unrelenting. I alternated between the grass and the tar but the grass offered images of circling yellowjackets and mini piles of goose droppings along the way. And yet I persisted.
See writing Gods, I can be persistent. I can do it. I have what it takes to become a best-selling author, right down to the soles of my feet. When my fourth book is done, sometime this month, I will do whatever it takes to get it into the hands of my loyal readers and create new ones. I will persist.
What about you? When the goal you set stands just out of reach, when the plan you made seems unattainable, what at will you do? Success will not seek you out, will not knock on your life’s door. It may take one more try, one more step, shoe or no shoe, but your victory remains in your hands, right where it’s always been. You chose! Persist!
Today begins a new series of blogs about the characters from the pages of my trilogy, The Shepherd Chronicles. As the Shepherd, David travels about and engages in several encounters with people who might best be described as lost. It is David’s job to help those people find their way back to their life’s path. Many of these characters know how badly lost they are, others are totally clueless, thinking it’s the rest of the world that is crazy. Walter is one of the latter.
Walter is one of the few out-of-family characters whose name appears in all three books. In The Promise, we are introduced to the middle-aged perfectionist who is trying desperately to relive his life through the efforts of his son, Terry. Walter was, at best, an average athlete during his high school days and usually rode the bench during most games, scoring only one goal during three soccer seasons, no baskets during two basketball seasons and third doubles in tennis. His athletic abilities never carried him to even trying out for any teams in college.
Terry, on the other hand, was a natural athlete who succeeded at any sport he tried. Throughout his childhood, Walter pushed and prodded Terry to achieve more and more. Daily practices, summer camps and every league available to kids kept Terry occupied every day of the week, all year round. Terry didn’t perform because of his love of sports, he did so to please his impossible to please father. Becoming a recruited college athlete was more Walter’s dream than Terry’s. He never wanted to disappoint Dad so he worked hard at becoming the athlete of his father’s desire. Winning every game he could win, every award that was available. You see, due to all the manupulation his life incurred, Terry learned to hate sports. His heart simply wasn’t in it. Where Terry truly excelled, the love of his heart, was music. His father called it a waste of time.
Needless to say, Terry found a way to rebel off the field or the court. He and his father grew farther and farther apart. When Terry tried to win back his father, Walter had no time to listen as he was busy trying to secure a scholarship for his son at his alma mater. Walter had pushed his son to the edge of the cliff, toes dangling over the side, waiting for one more push or for his son to jump all on his own. Mr. Perfectionist was perfectly ruining his son’s life.
What about you? Do you have a Walter in your life, trying to gain fame vicariously through the skills and efforts of others?
In the story, David confronted Walter. He was rudely ignored. It wasn’t until David forced Walter to listen to his son’s heart, from his son’s own lips, that it finally sunk in. When faced with the choice of losing his son forever or letting his son live his own life by his own path, that headway was made. Of course, this one event did not totally alter Walter’s perfectionist ways as we come to discover in future chapters, but it did make Walter aware that you can’t lead someone else’s life for them. That each and every one of us is the caretakers of our own path.
For the perfectionist in your life, don’t be afraid to confront, to share your own heart. The Walter’s of the world don’t get it. They think they are providing happiness, but it usually their own and no one else’s. To those of you with a Walter, lovingly open your heart and tell him the damage he is doing. To you Walters reading this, lighten up!
Crossroads are not visible close up, not in the moment, or the hour, or the day. Deeply meaningful crossroads may truly be decades in your rear-view mirror before they come into focus. I want to share one of mine that is at least five of those decades in my past.
I spent many of my summers at Camp Lakeland in Angola, NY. During my youth, I enjoyed sports, playing football, baseball, soccer and more. I was never the first player chosen when teams were picked and sometimes the last, but I still enjoyed participating. That all changed that next summer at camp.
We were playing softball in an organized game between cabins. I came to bat in the first inning and as I stepped into the batter’s box, I heard the left fielder call out to his teammates. Now, I knew the left fielder from back home, his name was Jeff, but I had never been around him playing sports. He had an impression of me that I wasn’t aware of. He yelled out “Power hitter guys, back up”
Power hitter? Who me? I was twelve years old and no one ever believed in me like that. I stepped back out of the box. This guy believes in me. Maybe I should believe in me too. I watched the first pitch go over my head. The second pitch was right down the middle and I swung and drove it into left field, over Jeff’s head and the ball rolled all the way to the tree line. Confidence in yourself, in your abilities is like a magic pill. I took that pill at the plate that day and became the hitter Jeff imagined. I hit eleven more home runs that summer.
The last athletic event of the season was a camp Olympics. I came in second in the 100-yard dash, although I swear, I won. It was a photo finish with no camera. I won the 220 and the 440-yard run and was scheduled to be the anchor runner for the 440-relay, the last event of the day. At that point, my team was tied for first place.
As the race progressed, my team was falling farther and farther behind the team that, if they won, would win the whole day. By the time I received the baton, I was at least thirty yards behind. I stumbled a bit at the beginning then started to gain speed. The runner ahead of me made a crucial mistake. Instead of running his race, he kept looking over his shoulder to see if I was gaining on him. I was. By the time we hit the last turn, I was right behind him. Once I passed him it was over. It wasn’t even close. The best part was the whole camp was watching this one event and the cheers I got were unlike anything I had ever experienced.
When I went home after that session, I was truly a whole new person. I had a confidence in my athletic abilities that served to make me more competitive, more capable. I was never the last player chosen again.
Whatever your role in life, in sports, at work or as a parent, let praise lead the way. Cheer on your teammates, let your coworkers or subordinates no how much you value their efforts and never, never stop telling your children how much you believe in them. Slip them the confidence pill. Be their Jeff.
If you read my last blog, you are aware I went to New York City to see “To Kill a Mockingbird” on Broadway. It was an exciting moment. The production did not disappoint. That’s not to say that it followed the script and the characters step by step, but it did take a 1930’s era story and raise it up to the conscience of a 2019 audience. The play produced 57 years after the release of the award-winning movie, introduced a new character and a new dressing for an old argument.
First, the new character, Link Deas. He appeared in the novel but not the movie. He was Tom Robinson’s employer that explained how Tom lost the function of his arm. Link was identified as the town drunk who always went around with a bottle wrapped in a paper bag with two straws. He later crosses paths with Jem and Scout and offers up his enlightened opinion of the people of Maycomb and how he has managed to keep most of them away from him for many a year.
Second comes the argument. Atticus Finch, played masterfully by Jeff Daniels tries to teach his children, just as Gregory Peck did in the film, that you shouldn’t judge a man until you have walked around awhile in his skin. In the play, it causes Scout to ponder while bringing Jem to argue. He struggled to accept the notion that a man as mean and evil as Bob Ewell could have a redeeming nature. Jem said why would he want to walk around in the skin of a man that doesn’t spend much time there himself. Atticus points out the Mr. Ewell recently lost his job and that doing so has put the rest of his life as he knows it in jeopardy.
The new dressing was a statement Atticus makes during the argument. He says that when a man joins a group or a mob, he ceases to be himself, gaining his anonymity, no longer an individual and no longer responsible for the rantings of the mob. The opinions of the group are that of the group and not necessarily the opinion of each individual of the group. That statement stayed with me during the rest of the first act and well into the intermission.
I have purposely avoided political debate in my postings and blogs. I have not felt comfortable bringing those sides into my feelings about leading a better life and lifting up our fellow man. However, like Jem, I have a problem with this discussion. In the anger and the disunion shown in this world, I am not comfortable giving someone a pass for hanging with extremists and bowing out of the venom by saying it was the group’s opinion not mine. That simply doesn’t work. If you run with a mob, chant their slogans, carry their torches, whether you agree with every plank of their platform, your support lifts up the anger of the group and paints all members of the mob with the same brush, no matter what you whisper in private.
Yes, I believe in lifting each other up, being positive support but not at the expense of my integrity. I will not allow myself to sink into a pit just to keep another man company. I would rather help him to find a way out of that pit. The racism portrayed in this 1930 story has not washed away in time. For me, after spending the last five days walking the streets of New York, streets that carry people of all color, people from every country of the world, streets where English is a minority language, I never felt out of place, never felt like my place in this country has been taken over by others nor did I feel that any one person I saw didn’t have every right to walk the same sidewalk that I did. That is America, just as it has always been, a collection of people with the same dream and the same right to live that dream, no matter what brought them here.