The cold wooden floor greeted my bare morning feet. The thermostat adjusted. Immediately. Coffee next. Welcomed was the shroud of the early morning stillness before my first sip of despair. I braced myself for the news of the day…
Storm after storm. Blustery squalls. Winter in Vermont. The snow piles high as the depth of winter lingers on. Sleet pinged off the clapboard siding while the gas stove warmed…
A tonal landscape of whites, grays and umbers outside my little house on the hill. Flakes fly sideways on swirling winds. Darting across the frigid air. The family room windows struggled to offer me a view as flakes of white pile-up by the many inches. Flitting and flying until they settle in impossible numbers. The split rail fence has surrendered to the mounting feet of snow. Purity has blanketed the rolling hills if nowhere else…
A muddled view does not end with my vista. I think about my dad. That in and of itself is not unusual as I lovingly remember him each day. Miss him too. I wonder. No, I know how worried he would be as he read the current political tea leaves…
A WWII veteran. A young GI who landed in Normandy and marched across Europe would now bear witness to the downward spiral of the country he loved and fought for…
My dad always had an extraordinary global view. A deep knowledge and intellectual view of the world at large. The players and the chess game at hand. He not only understood each move but could anticipate what the future might hold. Well-read and well-informed…
Like the sport of baseball, he understood the intricacies of the game. Certainly, the stakes are so much higher than a highly anticipated Red Sox vs Yankee’s game, but he would have been able to sort through this unprecedented constitutional abyss better than I. I think…
He rarely spoke of his traumatic wartime experiences. Well, he spared his family the horrific details of his European tour. However, there were some stories he shared that gave us an understanding. The cost of freedom was often discussed…
Many who perished in WWII were friends of his, wartime brothers. Side by side in fox holes, the cold of night, trooping across Europe. I can’t help but reflect on the America he and others had fought for. Died for. Where is that country now? Did they die in vain? The country they put their life on the line for is vastly different in 2025. Is this change permanent? I shuddered to think on this cold dark February morning…
“Don’t interfere with anything in the Constitution. That must be maintained, for it is the only safeguard of our liberties”—Abraham Lincoln
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