A New National Motto

I wish we could rid ourselves of the motto, "In God We Trust."

Why?

It's a ruse, a blind, a cover.

A deception of mind and soul ... to lull us into some kind of unreasonable stance, that because of our motto, we have a leg up on just about everyone else ... and the great God Above looks upon us kindly, and will offer us unstinting protection against our foes, whatever and whoever they may be.

Micah the prophet alludes to this, as to the other prophets, as well.

The ease with which the people count on God to save them, because they have filled their lives with easy slogans and easily performed rituals.

Reminds me of Little Jack Horner, sitting in his corner, eating his Christmas Pie, and delighting in a plumb pulled from the dessert, and concluding, "What a good boy am I."

The fact that he sits in his corner, all by himself, eating the whole damn pie, makes clear to me that he's not such good boy after all.

Though he may be no better or worse than any other boy ...

Sadly, all of our god-talk has blinded us to our sordid history.

Sure, I'm glad to be an American - it's suited me just fine ... me and mine.

But for millions, the bright American Dream has been mostly a nightmare of poverty and loss.

Can't we be a bit more honest about all of this?

It's in our guns we trust, and in our bombs, and in our second-to-none technology, satellites above and drones a-flying ...

Rather than saying, "In God We Trust," how about a new national motto, "We have a lot of work to do!"

Good Night!

I'm tired.
Of Drump.
Of the GOP.
Of the deceit and lies.


I feel for the people,
Who signed on with him.
The angry folks.
The bigots who thought they had a chance.


Yes, I feel sorry for them.
They've been fooled.
Bamboozled.
Trumped.


How it must hurt.
Betrayed again.
Betrayed by the American Dream.
Betrayed now by their Savior.


They're so angry.
So angry.
So angry.
So, so angry.


They need someone who can offer hope.
Who can address their needs.
For health care.
For jobs.


For hope.
Hope is the piece.
Hope is the power.
Hope can be an illusion.


But it can also be life.
With hope, things happen.
With hope, people stay the course.
With hope, folks can handle anything.


I'm tired.
I'm tired of Drump.
Of Pence.
Of the GOP.


Is Hillary perfect?
Is she the savior?
Is she the new Madonna?
The new Mary?


Get off of it.
Don't be silly.
She's a politician.
But she's my politician.


She's knows how it works.
She knows how to play the game.
She knows who the players are.
She knows how to tap the power.


Is that bad?
Does that disqualify her?
Has she made mistakes?
Who hasn't?


But she's got a heart for children.
For women.
For the elderly.
For the people.


She knows the world.
As few of us do.
She's been in the eye of the needle.
She knows how it threads.


Anyway, it's been a long, long, day.
The news is painful.
The American Saga sad.
But I'm hopeful.


Why not?
Hope is my life.
Hope is my blood.
Hope is my DNA.


Why not?
I can't help myself.
Hope is what I am
And I'm glad about that.


Good night.

The American Dream at Its Best

Their faces weary.

Their steps tired.

Their clothes, mostly neat, and old.

Their hands tell a story of hard, hard, labor, and so do their shoes.

They ride the LA trains and buses - thank God for public transportation.

Nestled in between theaters in various states of life and death and old office buildings on Broadway - shops, markets, newsstands, vendors with small carts selling baubles and bangles and fruit drinks, hole-in-the-wall restaurants and bridal shops with billowy white baptism gowns hanging from the ceiling like so many angels dancing frivolously to entice customers ... and lots of people, lots of languages, lots of faces of all different kinds.

A few shop-keepers on the street inviting passers-by to "stop in; check out the store; good deals here."

Music seeping out of the stores.

An elderly man playing the accordion on a busy corner ... a few dollars in a hat laying on the sidewalk beside him. He has a pleasant smile on his face. Wonder what he's thinking. Is he tired? Is anyone listening?

Lots of families here.

Kids in tow, in strollers, in arm.

People laughing.

Some by themselves, heads down, lost in thought, intent on their way somewhere, in a hurry.

Hard-working people.

None of them rich ... hanging on to their dreams.

I salute them.

I honor them.

I bless them.

They are the representatives of the American Dream at its best.