“I think we’re going to be okay,” our beloved Barack said. No we’re not.
Trump’s oath will close with words that he will utter as both promise and threat: “So help me God.”
Please don’t try to domesticate my grandson’s wild kindness or the Christmas psalm I now write.
Being a Pop will have everything to do with how I pass through this season’s mournful valley and grow as a man committed to kindness and compassion.
Folks who have done absolutely nothing wrong feel shunned by their own country and suspect that neighbors they wave to in the neighborhood wish, deep down, that they would go away.
Clinton supporters are gut shot. We’ve gazed into millions of American souls. The rage and darkness are far worse than we imagined.
If you think that gay marriage is sinful and should be illegal, I wish you could meet my gay sisters and witness their tenderness and compassion.