my500words©

I did not vote for Donald Trump and I am incredibly frightened by the actions of our 45th President in just the first week of his presidency. But, I continue to believe – for the moment – that most of my fellow Americans who voted for Mr. Trump do not support the racial, religious and gender-based hatred that is at the heart of a tired white supremacy, which seems to be enjoying its moment in the sun in the Trump White House, particularly among his chief propagandists. I’ve heard some Trump voters state that they don’t care about all the hateful, demeaning, sexist, untrue and preposterous things Mr. Trump has said. They voted for him to bring back jobs to the United States and to focus on helping Americans first. I can support those objectives to a point. Here’s my offer.

I will work (through my votes and my words and my actions) with anyone, regardless of where you live or the party to which you belong or whether you’re a conservative, a libertarian, a liberal or a progressive, to help support leaders who can bring about good sustainable 21st Century jobs for all Americans. I also want all Americans to have access to good education and training that helps them be prepared for these good jobs. That might mean a college degree for some people and it might mean the very latest technical training for others. But, I don’t want Americans to be saddled with a mountain of unaffordable debt in order to get this education and training.

I also will listen to any good ideas about how we can rebuild our crumbling infrastructure. Same goes for energy and climate and immigration issues. We don’t have to agree on everything to agree on some things. We can table larger, foundational issues on which we don’t agree and at least tackle some smaller, more pressing problems where we can find common solutions. For example, we don’t have to agree that there is global warming (I believe it) to be able to help residents in Miami Beach and Norfolk address the steady rise in street flooding because of rising water tables. That’s not a philosophical debate; that’s a reality check.

Here’s where my offer ends. I won’t work with, support, or count as my friend (Facebook or otherwise) anyone who supports any action that attacks people based on religion, race, gender or gender identity, national origin, sexual orientation, physical or mental disability, or any other discriminatory, hate-fueled and bigoted basis. I won’t stand by or just go along with this orgy of xenophobic nationalism. Those actions will not make America great again. Those actions have already greatly weakened our democracy.  The world thinks less of us today than it did a month ago. You won’t be better off in this apocalyptic version of America. The soul of this nation – indeed its viability –  will be permanently damaged if we head down this path and I will fight anyone who wants to take us there.

I’m rising to defend the media. Not because I like them. Because I think they are critical to our survival. Over the weekend, I watched the final 60 Minutes interview by retiring CBS reporter Steve Kroft with President Obama. Overall, the President got a chance to give his own assessment of his Administration’s accomplishments and shortcomings during the past 8 years. But, I also was struck by the often disrespectful and confrontational tone of Kroft (“Are you going to pay for things again?”). Pivoting to earlier last week, we saw President-Elect Trump at his first news conference in 6 months angrily refusing to acknowledge a reporter from CNN because the reporter’s network had run a story about the supposed existence of Russian intelligence containing compromising information about the President-Elect. Mr. Trump dismissed CNN as “fake news.” This behavior should alarm you, whether or not you like CNN – or FOX or MSNBC.

While President Obama seemed completely unflustered by his confrontational grilling, essentially acknowledging that answering difficult or unfriendly questions from the media is part of the job, the President-Elect acts more like his good friend, President-for-Life Vladimir Putin, who imprisons members of the media when displeased.  I don’t think it’s hyperbolic to suggest that it’s a frighteningly quick trip from delegitimizing one media organization to a complete undermining of our free press and receiving all “news” from state-run propaganda organizations. Just ask folks in Russia or Venezuela or even Mexico.  Oh, right, you can’t.

A vigorously independent media (even a 140-character count version) is absolutely crucial in our fight to preserve this Constitutional democracy. We get to question and criticize our elected officials. But, only with the media’s help can we citizens have a fighting chance at ensuring that the President and Congress remain accountable to the American people. All Americans.

I argue this even as I admit that I am not a fan of the media in its currently metastasized form.  In fact, I despise many of today’s network leaders. Back when I was studying journalism at the University of Florida, the profession seemed like an honorable one of getting to the truth. Not so any more. In this age of Twitterized attention spans, selective echo-chamber media sources, fake news and 24-hour, all-time, anywhere media coverage, the race to the bottom in reporting surely is near its nadir. It seems that the media both attacks unworthy or misdirected targets (e.g., Hillary’s pneumonia-gate) and fails to understand the complexity of the news it reports with any degree of intellectual rigor (FYI, transgender doesn’t mean dudes in the ladies room).  And, yes, it manufactures news.  All in an effort to feed its voracious revenue goals.

Still, the thing is we’re all in danger if we don’t fight for an independent media. Remember, it was the Washington Post that coined the term McCarthyism to warn Americans of that demagogue’s rise. Who will warn us of the dangers in our current environment where any dissent, any criticism, any difference or any disagreement seems under attack? Who?

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with Ancestry.com.  It started out as a strategy to replace my obsessive intake of news and social media. But, there was more.  Perhaps it was the upheaval surrounding buying and selling homes, or maybe it was the words and actions coming out of the election season, but I also felt a sudden urgency to know that I belong. Somewhere. Anywhere. What I now appreciate more fully than ever is that I belong to the community of family and friends that I have acquired throughout my life. I belong to the people who love me, and to the places that accept me.  I belong exactly where I am.

Back to Ancestry, can tracing your dead relatives really help connect you? As it turns out, there are worse approaches. If nothing else, through the effort I learned some interesting pieces of my history. On my father’s side, so far I’ve traced my lineage back to Clement Briggs, who was born in 1587 in the English town of Southwark, Surrey, now part of London. He made one of the voyages to America and later died in 1648 in Weymouth, Massachusetts Bay Colony. A grandson, John Briggs, was born in Kingston, Rhode Island in 1668, just 30 years after Roger Williams founded Rhode Island to escape the religious zealotry of the Puritans back in Massachusetts. John’s descendants would be native Rhode Islanders all way down through my father and older brother. Thanks to the fact that my parents hated cold weather, I broke a nearly 300-year trend by starting life in Winter Park, Florida.

On my mother’s side, I discovered that my great grandfather, James Gorman, was born in County Roscommon, Ireland in 1873. This part of Ireland was particularly ravaged by the great potato famine of the 1840s. Today, County Roscommon is the home of the Irish National Famine Museum at Strokestown Park. My great grandfather immigrated to the United States at just 17 and later settled in Providence where he met and married my great grandmother, another Irish immigrant. Their eldest daughter, my grandmother, was born in 1903.

Fast forward to 2017.   I live in Baltimore with my spouse.  I’ve chosen to make Maryland my home for 13 years because I love the land and the water and the history and the people of this great state as if I were a native. It seems as if Maryland’s “middle temperament” suits me just fine. I belong here. But, I also love and feel connected to my family and friends throughout the United States and beyond. I know that I belong to this particular group of particularly amazing people because they love and accept me as completely as I return that love and acceptance. Finding one’s place is important and may take you around the world or just around the block. Regardless of how and where you find that connection, it’s important to celebrate all the people in your life who help you belong. Wherever you may be or wherever you may be going.

It’s hard for me not to see 2016 as a year of loss and fear. The incredible loss of so many bright stars from our lives. My palpable anxiety over how we can possibly move forward together as a united people. All year long, I’ve been mourning the seemingly total absence of civil discourse. I’ve truly despaired that we will be able to see each other through all that unites us, not just across the spectrum of our differences.

But, 2016 had its perfect moments.  Lots of them. The happy joy of watching two beautiful friends tie the knot on a gorgeous fall afternoon. The special pride in watching my spouse’s artistry in motion. The many happy times throughout the year with family and friends. The accomplishments – large and small – of the many important people in my life.

Of course, there was travel. Lots of perfect travel days in 2016. One such day came in May when my spouse and I set out on a bike tour of the coast of Brittany in France. We began the day in Saint-Malo, a gorgeous, ancient walled city of stone ramparts offering dramatic views of the sea. There’s lots of history in Saint-Malo. French corsairs, i.e., pirates, called the city home in the 16th Century and got rich collecting “tributes” from ships sailing the English Channel. Explorer Jacques Cartier was born here in 1491 and later sailed from Saint-Malo to claim Quebec for France. Today, the city is a major tourist destination and ferry port. Heading out of town on a brilliantly sunny day, we pedaled the busy coastal road trough scenic beachside villages with the aquamarine waters of the Atlantic on our left and the gorgeously green pastures of the Breton countryside on our right. Further on, we crested a hill and came upon Plage du Guesclin, a spectacular stretch of sandy beach, where we stopped to take selfies and enjoy the scene of laughing French children playing in the surf with their dog. Later, we hiked out to the promontory at Pointe du Grouin, a rocky outcrop with precipitously awesome views in all directions, including our first glimpse of Mont St.-Michel, just on the horizon. A few miles on, we ended our first day of riding in the elegant seaside town of Cancale, France’s oyster capital. After checking in and storing our bikes, we enjoyed a late improvised lunch of decadent éclairs and other pastries. That evening, we walked through the quiet streets of the upper section of Cancale until we found the coastal walking path. This led us to brilliant views of the harbor in Cancale with its oyster beds visible at low tide and boats anchored for the evening. Enjoying the pleasant fatigue that comes from a long day of riding, we devoured a fantastic meal of oysters and other local delicacies from the sea.

There were many perfect days in 2016. I’m counting on them to carry me through the days and weeks ahead.

I flew to Kansas City two weeks after the 2016 Presidential election, feeling very much like an unwelcome “other” in large parts of my own country. I had the unsettling thought that I was leaving the welcoming energy of my Baltimore neighborhood for the unfriendly heart of red-state America. On the other hand, I had really enjoyed Kansas City on previous visits, with its pleasing combination of big city offerings and Midwestern friendliness. So, I told myself I should try to experience Kansas City free of my own East Coast bias filter. Instead, I would endeavor to see the city and its people through the prism of how I might find my own place here. This turned out to be an easy assignment.

Straddling two states and two rivers (Kansas and Missouri on both counts), Kansas City probably had to become an important city. It grew from a 19th century riverside settlement and gateway to westward expansion into a Heartland metropolis of two million people. At once easy-going and sophisticated, Kansas City is the kind of the place where your Uber driver from the airport will turn off the meter while you stop at the CVS on the way to your hotel, where you can buy a hand-stitched Italian wool suit from the very friendly owner of a stylish men’s store down near the city’s historic River Market, and where you can enjoy great company and a good meal at a friendly gay bar-restaurant in the historic Westport neighborhood. Home to the Chiefs and the Royals and several Fortune 500 companies, including HR Block, Hallmark Cards and Sprint, Kansas City has its share of big city attributes. Sometimes known as Paris of the Plains, owing to the prevalence of broad boulevards adorned with fountains and statues, there’s a world-class art museum here along with the stunning Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts, one of the very few new performance spaces built during the recent Great Recession. The shopping center was stylishly born in Kansas City with the Country Club Plaza, a fantastic pedestrian zone built in the 1920s in a Spanish-Moorish style. KC’s barbeque is well known, of course, but the city’s food scene offers a whole lot more, including a place called the Rieger – the kind of restaurant that makes travel so much fun. The Rieger works with local farmers, brewers, distillers and even table artists to bring you a very delicious and uniquely Kansas City dining and drinking experience. There’s a diversity here that might surprise but one constant is the genuine friendliness of locals who really seem happy you came to visit.

On a lunch break during my recent visit, I joined some local colleagues for a walk from the office downtown to a pedestrian bridge that offers panoramic views of the broad Missouri River and out across the plains. Opportunity. That’s what came to mind as I took in this view. I also was reminded why I like this Kansas City place. I never feel unwelcome. Just the opposite.