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Goodbye to my Juan, Goodbye Rosalita …
Following his decisive win two days ago, the President Elect has intensified his campaign pledge to conduct a mass deportation of the estimated 11 million immigrants who are living in the U.S. without authorization. He promised to do something similar the last time he was in the White House, but he was unable to deliver. But with a judicial landscape more favorable to his agenda, this time could be very different. Deportation has made the news before. In 1948, a plane chartered by United States Immigration Services crashed in Los Gatos, California, killing all 32 people aboard including 28 Mexican farmworkers. who were being deported to Mexico after working in…
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Even When We Don’t Win
The Stream Keeps Flowing Yesterday, I wrote a hopeful piece to mark Election Day 2024. Saving Hope, admittedly personal and sentimental was nonetheless about hope. At about one o’clock this morning, I knew the presidential election would not turn out the way I’d hoped. I was deeply disappointed, but I wasn’t shocked by the result. Not for a second. It’s early days of course, but I have some grave apprehensions about how America will look for my daughter and her friends in the near future. While this is a bad day for me and for many of us—scary and uncertain— it’s also a great day for many others. That’s how…
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Saving hope.
The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. — Barbara Kingsolver After my daughter was born, almost 27 years ago, I wrote to the White House to request a presidential greeting for her from the President of the United States. Yes, you can do that. About six months later, a welcome letter arrived in our mailbox, Sophie’s name and address handwritten in calligraphy on the envelope and inside, a signed message from the President and First Lady.…
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Making something of ourselves …
Most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about poetry, they have a life to live and they’re not really concerned with Allen Ginsberg’s poems or anybody’s poems. Until … their father dies, you go to a funeral, you lose a child, somebody breaks your heart, they don’t love you any more and all of a sudden you’re desperate for making sense out of this life and “has anybody felt this bad before, how did they come out of this cloud?” Or the inverse, something great. You meet somebody and your heart explodes, you love them so much you can’t even see straight … and that’s when art’s not a…
