Memorial Day
Memorial Day is not a barbecue. It is a day to sit with the weight of what it cost for this country to exist — and to ask honestly whether we are honoring that sacrifice or betraying it.

Where finding yourself begins
Memorial Day is not a barbecue. It is a day to sit with the weight of what it cost for this country to exist — and to ask honestly whether we are honoring that sacrifice or betraying it.
They stormed the Capitol. They beat police officers. They got pardons. Now they want $1.8 billion too. This isn’t justice — it’s a reward program for insurrection, and we should all be furious.
Mr. Rogers testified before the Senate in 1969 and won — not because he was loud, but because he was real. In 2026, the camera doesn’t reward sincerity anymore. It rewards spectacle. And that has cost us something.
I came home from Saudi Arabia, stopped swimming, and told my doctor I was fine. I said that for twenty years. It didn’t make me stronger. It just made me sicker.
For 30 years I floated quietly above my own life — watching it happen, disconnected from it. Then something clicked. I picked up the pen again. And for the first time in a long time, I felt present.