Shame on Us

Recently I posted a knee-jerk reaction to the latest school massacre. With beloved nephews and cousins in Tennessee schools, the shootings in Kentucky and Florida this year hit too close to home. I was railing against the politicians who say or tweet insincere “thoughts and prayers” while defending the guns over the rights of children. 

The first comments were as heartbroken and incredulous as I was. Then some of the the extreme pro-gun crowd started defending their guns without even acknowledging the kids killed. I almost took the post down…but reminded myself that we NEED to have conversations about this. 

For the people who defended "thoughts and prayers" without really reading that post: Every one of us has sympathy for these children and their grieving families. We are ALL sending our good thoughts and/or prayers. When we really care, though, we do not stop at that...we do something. 

I write/call representatives, vote, march…but until enough of us are willing to stand up to protect these kids, nothing will change. There is no ONE thing at the root of these killings and we need to find some way to work together for a solution. Trying to communicate and bridge gaps between the sides seemed like one more positive thing I could try to do. 

In the spirit of communication, I left that post up as an opportunity to listen and engage all sides. People started having conversations (even though they weren’t all friendly). Emotions are raw about this subject and neither side is innocent of name-calling or sharing false information. Comments that were gratuitously and viciously name-calling were deleted, false links were countered or deleted...but I let most of the rest of them stay, so others could judge for themselves which were rational, thoughtful attempts at communicating. As a gun owner, I don't think taking all the guns away would solve the issue...but as someone concerned about people's safety, I believe we need to seriously rethink some things.

Meanwhile, my own mother was harshly chiding me for writing about this horror because she thought we should be “letting them grieve”. (I adore my Mom, so that hurt way more than that attacks from gunhuggers).

While I appreciate the "let them grieve" sentiment...how long does it take to grieve the loss of a child? After losing a son, I can honestly say “a lifetime”. For me, it will be 30 years in October. 

Every time I hear of someone losing a child, I remember and empathize…and my loss was NOTHING like losing a child to gun violence. Most of us will never know how that feels to the parents of children killed in these school shootings. Every time another child is killed, I am sure they relive their own loss, the moment they heard…the horror of having to identify the bullet-ridden remains of their child (some of whom had to be identified by DNA due to damage).

The children, the parents, the families that have survived or lost loved ones in these shootings are not asking for time to grieve...they are asking that we do something now.

When 6 and 7 year olds were gunned down at Sandy Hook and those parents grieved an unimaginable loss, we should have had their back. We should have dealt with the issue for them so those families COULD grieve. We should have fought for them so they could know that this country cared enough about their losses to DO something and keep it from happening again. 

Instead, those parents had to step up to fight on their own. Grieving families created organizations like Sandy Hook Promise to try and stop this from happening again. They had to pause their grief because the people who had not lost children were too busy arguing, “letting them grieve”, offering nothing more than thoughts and prayers…or defending their guns. 

Despite their efforts, here we are, six years later…people are still arguing, still saying “let them grieve”, still offering “thoughts and prayers”, still defending their guns…and children are still dying. 

Ironically, just as I was digesting words from my mother condemning my attempts at action and communication, a video popped up of the remarkable Emma Gonzalez. Among the powerful things Emma said as she wiped her tears:  “we are up here standing together because if all our government and President can do is send thoughts and prayers, then it's time for victims to be the change that we need to see.” 

Emma's speech was one of the most courageous and heartbreaking things I have ever seen.

Shame on all of us for putting these young people in the position of having to speak up on this issue...when they SHOULD be grieving and healing. We should be doing the work so they can grieve and heal without having to fight. If we had done the work long ago…they would not be grieving now.

The kids and teachers who survive these shootings will face PTSD for the rest of their lives. 

The families of the kids killed will grieve for the rest…of…their…lives. 

Shame on all of us.

The teens of Stoneman Douglas High are taking on the dark side politicians owned by the NRA with a pure-hearted determination that would shame a Jedi. Many of these young people aren’t even old enough to vote, yet they are facing down career politicians because the “grown-ups” wouldn’t do it. 

They want change and we have forced them to fight for it on their own, through their tears...in honor of the grieving families, their lost friends and teachers. These kids are fighting to prevent anyone else from facing the same horror, and for their own peace of mind.

We should be in awe. We should be behind them and standing up for them. Many of us are…but not all. 

Some republicans are accusing them, attacking them, and doing their best to tear these kids apart. Members of the right are claiming these kids were paid, that they are actors, that these shootings were “staged” for political gain. These kids and their families are getting death threats.

Shame on you, GOP.

These brave young people are stepping up and fighting the battle we should have fought after Columbine, after Sandy Hook...after too many of these killings. They need us to have their backs. They need our support, our voices and our votes.

They have mine.

From Unspoken to Outspoken

Over the past year or so, I have taken some hits because I have been more outspoken politically. That’s okay, in my own opinion, I have earned a few hits, not because I speak up now…but because I have not spoken up throughout my life.






I was raised in a home where politics went unspoken. As my Mom explains, she hates politics because her father and uncles argued politics ad nauseam when she was growing up. That would put just about anyone off politics. My great uncles were republican, but my Grandfather’s strong democratic beliefs earned him the nickname “Demo” as a young man…and he would go by that name for the rest of his life. That passion for politics skipped a generation.

We grew up rural, sheltered from the horrors of Vietnam and the Khmer Rouge. Watergate was not discussed, Ford was a joke on Saturday Night Live, and Carter was a peanut farmer from the South. We did not talk about the fights for equal and/or civil rights. My parents loved teaching us about the past…but they did not engage us in the present. Ignorance is bliss...but only to a point.

It was not until I left home at 17, that I started to pay attention and my horizons began to expand. This was mostly due to my first husband. Before he was old enough to drink, Don knew more about world politics than most people ever will. Over the next decade of my life, so much would happen…and, though it did not come naturally (or nurturally), I started to notice. While Americans talked about MTV and Indiana Jones and personal computers, Islamic Afghan Freedom fighters would spend the decade fighting and dying until they hamstrung the Soviet Union. The Cold War that had plagued us since 1950 was coming to an end. Ronald Reagan was president over most of that decade and Nelson Mandela was serving his third decade in prison. Great and terrible things happened over those years. In 1989, I would paint “End Apartheid” across the front bumper of my truck in support of those fighting that terrible battle…meanwhile, across the world, the Berlin Wall would fall, the Exxon Valdez would spill 10.8 million gallons of crude oil along the Alaska coastline and hundreds of peaceful student protestors would be gunned down in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square.

What I discovered when I paid attention, was a world of injustice that offended my innately fair-minded little soul and tore at my empathic little heart. Everywhere you looked there was something or someone worth fighting for. I was pulled in a dozen directions at once…outraged, overwhelmed, heartbroken and discouraged. I donated money, time and art…I recycled and voted. I wanted do more, though, like help clean birds by Prince William Sound. Instead, I told myself that it was better to give the world what I was “good” at by focusing on my art. In hindsight, maybe I was wrong.

The most important lesson I learned by going to DC last June was that we can and should be involved and engaged regarding the issues we are passionate about...and we can make a difference. Our politicians work for us and sometimes we need to hold their feet to the fire. It isn’t easy…it means researching the issues and learning to discern fact from fiction. It means stepping out of our comfort zone and delving into the things that worry or scare us. It means making an effort to think for ourselves and express our beliefs in a world that won’t always “like” what we think or, worse, will respond with hateful vitriol.

There are a lot of good hearted people who don’t get involved. Some don’t think they could make a difference. Maybe they hate politics...who doesn't? Some can’t be bothered to research issues...it gets overwhelming. Others don’t care because their own world seems “safe” and they just can’t relate to the troubles of others. It is easy to criticize social programs until your own house is on fire.


I may not have children…but I worry about the future of my niece, my nephews and all the children/young people who will inherit what we are creating (and destroying). What will we leave them? Will they have clean water and air and wild places to escape to? Will they be saddled with the crushing deficit that the GOP is creating to enrich the rich? Will they have opportunities for education and equality?

Most of us hate politics, or at least some politicians...but you don't have to like politics to be involved. Like it or not, the decisions made by politicians involve you. I would think any parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle would want to do whatever they can to protect the future of the children, nieces, and nephews grandchildren they are so fortunate to have and/or love. Our country is on fire, my friends...and we should all be grabbing buckets.

To those who would criticize me (or anyone) for showing interest or being outspoken about the issues that face us, I say this:
the MOST patriotic and the truly American thing we can do is be involved, speak out, vote and sometimes (gasp) protest..

As a new year dawns, I am squaring my shoulders and preparing to continue passionately and compassionately speaking out and standing up for what I believe in…it is the American way and I am an American girl.

“Well, I won't back down
No, I won't back down
You can stand me up at the gates of hell
But I won't back down”
Tom Petty

Boxing Day

On Boxing Day in 2003, I was trying to make funeral arrangements for my Dad when my phone charger broke. Dad had been ill for a while, but everyone thought he was getting better and his sudden death on Christmas Day was completely unexpected. Less than 24 hours after singing cowboy songs to him as he passed, I was still in shock when I found myself in the most dreadful of places: Denver's Cherry Creek Mall.

Holiday music blared, everything glittered and throngs of happy post holiday shoppers milled and shoved past me. I just needed to find the darn Verizon store, buy a charger and leave. As I made my way through packs of chattering teens, dodged strollers pushed by smiling parents, stepped around cooing couples and tried not to step on giggling toddlers…I started to get angry, thinking “my Dad just died, can’t you people just let me get out of here?”

My own question stopped me in my tracks. Suddenly, I wondered how many people I encountered every day were quietly making their way through some tragedy? How many were fighting for their lives at that very moment? How many were grieving a loved one? How many were worried about how to pay their bills? Were some afraid of losing their home or their job? What percentage were going home to a dying parent, partner, friend or child? Which of them had just been abandoned by a partner or spouse? How many would go home to emotional or physical abuse? Who among them would be unbearably lonely that night…or even at that very moment? How many were depressed and contemplating the value of their lives, or perceived lack thereof, as viewed through a broken heart or debilitating depression? What number of people were trying to get through life facing more than one of those things, simultaneously? How many were trying to just survive until tomorrow? More than any of us ever imagine.

At that moment, in that ridiculous mall, among the hordes of cheerful shoppers, I made a vow to myself…to try to remember that what we don’t always know what is going on in someone’s life. When we are happy…someone is facing unimaginable tragedy. When our heart is breaking…others are joyful. Life doles out its various trials and tribulations at a different pace for each of us.

As much as I try, I don’t always live up to that vow. Sometimes I fail miserably. Admittedly, I took my imperfect humanity into consideration from the beginning when I promised to “try” (sorry Yoda, sometimes try is all we can do). It is easy to forget, to get caught up in our own battles and worries and heartbreak...and it is hard, often impossible, to tell who hurts. Out of sight, out of mind makes it hard to remember to consider the worries that may trouble the people we encounter and cut them some slack. Still, I try.

Every Boxing Day I am reminded of that moment in the mall when deep grief and a crowd of happy people helped carve into my heart one of the most significant philosophies of my life. Every Boxing Day I renew my vow and, during the 364 days between, I keep trying.

Lessons in Less

Among the new works I showed in Georgia were these three "Flying Fawn" paintings.

Originally, I had imagined a grouping of pieces that were a little different, a little more "finished". As I learned long ago, though...sometimes the journey is more important than the destination.

I am typically drawn to chipmunk-cheeked Winter mule deer fawns…but these lanky Summer youngsters loitering near my house were captivating. I wanted to try to capture their seemingly effortless bounding.

These are all small-ish, 12"x12" or 12"x16". The background is the simple wash I toned the surface with before starting. It was not intended as the "finish", so it is imperfect...but somehow worked better than anything else.

Sometimes "perfect" is relative.

As I started quickly scrubbing in the basic planes of the first one (the 12” x 12”)…something happened. It just “worked", painting it seemed as effortless as their bounding had been.

As my fellow artists know, they aren’t all effortless…far from it.

The second one bounded to life in much the same way…fun, loose.

It is easy to get caught up in the push toward your mind's eye version of "perfection"…much harder learning to stop before you go too far.

I suppose I could fix this or that. Soften an edge here and push the color there. Perhaps they could be better...but, to me, they “work” just as they are.

Anatomy, described by quick, thin, brush-scrubbed planes…thick, buttery highlights…and swashes of color.

Flying Fawns…as fun to paint as they were to watch.

The fawns didn’t find a home, but that gives me an excuse to play with a couple more before the next show!





(PS: Thanks to Walt and C.D., two of my art heroes, for noticing this trio and for the very kind words about them!)

Pardon Me, but You have Something...

We’ve all seen them…the adorable, fluffy “baby crow” (it is a rail), the “baby platypus” (it is a stuffed toy), the “petrified stump of the tree that would have been ten miles tall!” (it is the Jugurtha Tableland rock formation in Tunisia). Then there are the fake obituaries. Just imagine if someone was passing that kind of fake news about one of your friends or loved ones or your child. There are countless more out there…fake memes that are shared, reshared and sent on viral trips around the world. These posts die down and then resurface again and again. Tom Petty fake-died so many times that some people called his actual death “fake”.

Everyone gets suckered by a fake post now and then. Last week I posted a great quote, attributed to Thomas Jefferson. It came off the “Brainy-quote” site, so I assumed it was accurate…I mean, if they call themselves “Brainy”, shouldn’t that mean something? Within minutes, a friend debunked it. I double-checked, he was right, so I deleted the quote and PM’d him a “thank you”. I learned something new and one less fake post headed out into cyberspace.

Once in a while, I will try to gently and kindly point out to someone that the meme they shared is fake and explain what it really is. Never once has anyone said “oh, thank you!”. Rarely, if ever, do they delete the fake post. In most cases I am actually attacked, mocked or bullied…and it isn’t just me, I have seen it happen to other who rally for the truth. The original poster and their allies will often staunchly (sometimes viciously) defend their post, even in the face of evidence proving it false. Sadly, they are more willing to BE wrong than admit they were wrong.

Think about it this way: Someone pulls you aside before your first date or big presentation to gently say “honey, you have a big piece of spinach between your front teeth”. Do you chew them out and ignore them...or do you check the mirror, think “ewww, glad someone told me” and grab a toothpick? 

A fake meme or fake news story on your social media page is like a hunk of spinach between your front teeth (or worse). For every kind soul (and it IS kindness) who clues you in, there are hundreds who will just snicker behind your back or think “how embarrassing” or, worse, lose respect for you. 

Why does it matter? Why SHOULD it matter? In a world where fiction is being taken for fact, we owe it to ourselves, if no one else, to seek truth. We need to learn to think critically...it is not that hard to do. Take a few seconds to fact-check your posts and give yourself extra credit for finding truth in an environment that makes it easy to mix fact and fiction. At worst, you save yourself a little embarrassment...at best, you learn something new.

You think you “don’t know” how to tell what is real? 

Here is a simple tip. Before posting, sharing (or believing) something on the internet, google a couple of key words along with “meme”. You will get a pile of hits and can learn within SECONDS if it is true. 

For example, the “baby crow”: When that one first showed up, I knew it wasn’t a crow (having seen MANY baby ravens and crows), but I did not know what it actually was. I googled “baby crow meme”. Up came plenty of photos of actual baby crows, a dozen different versions of the fake baby crow…and several sites debunking the meme. Turns out it was a baby buff-banded rail (Gallirallus philippensis). That does not make it ANY less cute…and, bonus, I learned something new.

A darker example: A few months ago a meme was circulating among my far right friends with a photo of a Nazi, claiming it was George Soros. I didn’t know who Soros was, so I googled “soros nazi meme” and learned that the photo was actually of Oskar Groening (google THAT name, omg). Within seconds I learned that not only was Soros NOT a Nazi, but that he was a 9 year old Hungarian Jew when the war broke out. His story is the kind of thing that makes movie plots. Whether you agree with his politics or not, whether you love or hate his business practices…it turns out that his philanthropic projects have made the world a better place for many people. More good than most of us will ever do. In the comments of the posted fake meme, I said simply that the photo was not Soros but Oskar Groening. The original poster and several other artist friends laid into me saying “it does not matter, he (Soros) is EVIL!”. They reminded me of that Monty Python movie scene…”he’s a witch! ‘he’s a witch”. Their meme post had the opposite effect than intended…I gained respect for Soros and lost respect for everyone who defended the cruel fake meme. My bad, that wasn’t spinach in their teeth…it was much worse.

If you are not sure which “news” sites or websites are fake…again, just google them. There are reputable sites that rate the accuracy of information on the web and lists out there of websites that have been proven to publish fakes news. Note that I use the plural, there…not just one site…there are many sites that independently research this information. If a news item only shows on ONE website...that is good reason to be suspicious. 

Example: Shortly before the election, a dear friend posted one of the horrific political memes. The meme was attributed to “the Denver Guardian”. So, I googled “Denver Guardian”, turns out the address for the Denver Guardian was a parking lot space…it was a fake site (confirmed by several articles). The "Denver Guardian" website and others like it had been traced to foreign sources who were making a lot of money playing Americans off one another. You share those posts and not only do you have spinach in your teeth for your wedding photo, but someone is making money selling billboards of it.

When it comes to politics on BOTH sides…sharing fake news and memes does NOT help your cause. You hurt it. People will think less of you, your stance and your party. Wanting to believe something and finding a supporting meme on the internet does not make it true. The more fake memes people lob at one another (like primates throwing feces), the more divided we become. By the way, since I didn’t want to insult primates by that reference, I googled “primates throwing feces” and got this quote from Vanderbilt paleontology professor Neil Kelley: “Bored primates soon learn that flinging feces elicits a dramatic response from the humans outside the cage and that response is a strong reinforcement for a socially starved animal”. Seems my analogy was more true than I thought. What it boils down to is this…stop throwing poop at one another!

I have been wrong a lot over my years. What I have learned along the way, is that my best leaps forward in thinking, art, life…have come from screwing up, then admitting I was wrong and correcting my mistake(s). It hasn’t stopped me from making more mistakes…but that only means I am still trying, still learning, still growing.

As to correcting people…no one wants to do that, no one wants to risk being called “mean” (or worse) for trying, even gently, to point out the truth. No one wants to be the one who says “honey, you have spinach in your teeth” (that is almost as bad as finding out you had spinach in your own teeth AFTER the big date). More often than not, people tell you the truth because they care enough to want to save you from embarrassment or teach you something of value. 

When someone does offer a correction, even if you don’t have it in you to be gracious, at least try not to be mean. Even when the truth hurts, I am grateful for those who offer a respectful, constructive, accurate correction…for they are helping me become a better person.

Spin

With everyone fighting over statues and monuments…perhaps we should take a hard look at the elephant in the room. It isn’t entirely racism and it isn’t about loss of heritage or erasing history. It is about spin.

My parents were history fans, especially my dad. Our Summer vacations meant trips to the battlefields, monuments, and Southern historical sites like Monticello and the USS North Carolina. They dragged us around the region to anything and everything they could show us...along with lessons about what these places meant to both sides.

To this day, I love history and deeply believe that we need to remember our history so we can learn, heal and measure our progress forward. So, when the issue of confederate monuments first came up, I was on the fence. As an artist, as a history buff, as a Southerner, as an American and as a compassionate human I wondered how we should handle these statues, if removal was for better or worse. Then I started reading.

Innate curiosity meant that my understanding of our history only deepened after graduation. Howard Zinn and James Loewen shone light on the rewriting of history that took place long before I opened my first book. Recently, despite wild rants from both extremes, I have learned even more about the true history of a treasonous war that pitted brother against brother…and of the monuments left in its wake.

It is more politically correct to think the Civil War was about states’ rights but, if you read the actual declarations of secession, it is clear that the Southern states were fighting to keep slavery. Why is that? A relatively small portion of Southerners were slave owners (estimates vary between 20 and 32% overall, less in some states more in others), so why did so many join the fight for the rights of comparatively few?

The majority of Southern whites did not own slaves and many were against it. So why were they willing to die, to fight, even against their own families, to protect slavery? Spin. The rich slave owners told them that they would lose their jobs, their land, their homes and their way of life to blacks if the North won and slaves were freed. 

Sound familiar?

It wasn’t just the slaveowners, either. Southern religious leaders threw in to the mix. The Methodist Episcopal Church, South, claimed that slavery “has received the sanction of Jehova.” Southern Baptist Reverend Richard Furman taught that the holy scriptures sanctioned the right to hold slaves and that “every Negro…will be the equal of every one of you. If you are tame enough to submit, abolition preachers will be at hand to consummate the marriage of your daughters to black husbands.” Pastor Dunwoody of South Carolina said “god has authorized the practice of slavery…therefore, slavery is not a moral evil.” Presbyterian Robert Lewis Dabney told his fellow clergy to use the Bible to explain slavery. “We must go before the nation with the Bible as the text, and ‘thus sayeth the lord’ as the answer…the abolition party will be driven to unveil their true infidel tendencies.” 


Again, sound familiar?

THIS is why we need history…so it does not repeat itself.

That said, we do NOT need revisionist or apologist history. We need to understand the real reasons why countless Americans died to protect the rights of the wealthiest among them and how that relates to what is happening right now. We need history so we can look critically at the motives behind our current political and spiritual leaders, so we can learn to recognize who actually benefits when we are being played against one another.

Many of the monuments in question were created not to honor, but to divide. They were built so people would continue to rally behind a false ideal…against their neighbors, their family and their fellow Americans. When we fight over monuments that were purposely created to further divisiveness, we only deepen the divide…even worse, we miss what is really going on.

While people come to blows over statues, our REAL, irreplaceable monuments and natural resources are under fire. While we call one another names, laws are being created to take away what we have worked for and put it into the pockets of a very few. While some lobby for walls to keep out the workers who do the jobs we don’t even want, the jobs we DO want are being sent overseas by corporations. While Americans complain about a minuscule percentage of our tax dollar going to programs for healthcare, arts, education…a large portion of our tax dollar goes to corporate subsidies and monumental tax breaks for the wealthiest few.

Americans worry so much about the threat of “others”…other religions, other races, other ideologies. In fact, we are our own worst enemies. We fight amongst ourselves rather than coming together to create something better. If Americans supported our own, if we voted for laws that helped small businesses to succeed rather than supporting subsidies for corporations, everyone would be better off. If we open our hearts and borders to the immigrants that have been the very fabric of our nation since the beginning, we are ALL better off. If we supported programs that give opportunities to people who have few or none, it would lift us ALL up. If we supported education to raise standards rather than lazily grading to the lowest common denominator, we would ALL benefit.

We need to stop pampering our delicate egos and look at EXACTLY why that war happened, to understand its true history rather than the spin. We need to be outraged by how we are being similarly manipulated to this day. It isn’t the Mexicans, Jews, Blacks, LGBTQ, Muslims or any other “OTHER” that threaten our way of life, it isn’t the wealthy, either…it is our own refusal and/or inability to convert lessons from our own history into critical thinking regarding the manner in which we live, learn and VOTE.

These Boots are Made for Washington - Part 5

At last…hello, Mr Lincoln.

My dear friend Paula was kind enough to pick me up after I arrived in DC. First, I wanted to see the Jefferson memorial as inspiration for a previous post (Part 2), afterward we wandered through the Museum of the American Indian until it closed and then made our way toward the Lincoln Memorial.

Hilariously, we could not get there. Paula’s GPS sent us past it and over the river to Arlington and another try sent us past it again. We could not find parking, not even a sign for parking reasonably close. I pulled up the directions on my iPhone…and no better luck. We crossed the river at least 8 times and still were no closer to Lincoln. We were chatting, laughing and I’d wave at Mr Lincoln every time we passed. I kept saying “maybe there’s a reason…”

Eventually we found parking near the Martin Luther King Memorial, another of my favorite Americans. We could see Lincoln from there, not a far walk…but something in me said “no, not now”. So we visited Dr King and then went to dinner. I’d try again to see Lincoln before I headed home.

Lincoln’s statue is sculpted from Georgia marble and his likeness is, appropriately, larger than life (by three times). He gazes out across the reflecting pool toward the Washington Monument…but when you stand there, it feels as if he is looking right into your eyes, into your soul. His gaze seems at once benevolent and challenging.

“It is the quality of revolutions not to go by old lines or old laws; but to break up both, and make new ones.” Abraham Lincoln

Mr Lincoln was far from perfect (and a bit of a tyrant, in some ways), but he believed that the country belonged to the people. It is fitting that this spectacular memorial to one of our greatest Presidents has also been the site of many demonstrations and protests. Probably the most notable was in 1963, when hundreds of thousands of African Americans and their allies gathered peacefully in support of civil rights. On the stairs below Mr Lincoln, Dr Martin Luther King gave his “I Have a Dream” speech…his voice booming out over a crowd that stretched from Lincoln to the Washington Monument.

The morning after our failed attempt to visit Mr Lincoln, Paula sent me a news article. Apparently, when we were trying to find Lincoln, he had already been found by the infamous Richard Spencer and a group of alt-right, white nationalist, right-wing activists. Around 300 of Spencer's followers demonstrated without incident earlier in the day, but it would have dampened my spirits to run into any stragglers. In my opinion, they are almost the polar opposite of men like Dr King and Mr Lincoln.

Here’s the thing, though: while I do not agree with Spencer’s views on ANY level, I support their right to PEACEFULLY demonstrate…even on those iconic steps under the kind gaze of Mr Lincoln. I may be grateful that I didn’t see that group of angry white guys, but they have as much right to be there as Dr King did and as I do. I am horrified by what they say, but I believe in their constitutional right to say it as long as it does not turn to violence. If I don’t want to hear it, all I have to do is walk away.

My last day in DC, on the way to see Mr Lincoln, I came across a demonstration in the park in front of the Capitol. Intrigued, I watched as speakers rallied the sign-waving crowd. People in business attire passed through, some pausing to watch. A dread-locked man on a bike with loudspeakers attached to the handlebars held his own one-man commentary/protest. Foreign visitors mixed among the Americans. Women dressed as handmaids prepared to circle the Capitol. Tourists with children stood beside and among the protest crowd, all gathering in a line to view the arrival of the Vice President. Members of the press stood alongside individuals armed with smaller cameras from all over the country (and world), everyone pointing lenses in different directions. People explained to their children or one another what they thought was going on. Senators were coming and going and the Vice President was about to arrive. At the top of the Capitol stairs, snipers stepped into place (to protect the VP, I assume). Capitol police, some more patient than others, kept the protesters, tourists and playing children in line. As lawmakers came and went, then again when and the Vice President’s limo appeared, protesters chanted or yelled “shame!” and “shame on you!”. This peaceful mix of tourists, foreigners, business people, demonstrators, homeless, press, lawmakers, children, police and world leaders is something you would never see in many countries.

“I hold it that a little rebellion now and then is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical.” Thomas Jefferson

When I came home from DC, one of the first things that popped up on my FB feed was the NRA video that appears to incite violence against protesters, demonstrators and liberals. This faction of the far right seems to have forgotten that we are a nation that rose out of revolution. Many of our patriotic heroes were, in fact, protesters (Tea Party, anyone?). Throughout our history, protests and demonstrations, some peaceful and some not, have called attention to problems and sparked changes that we often take for granted today.

From from the Boston Tea Party to Stonewall, from little girls who fought for the right to play “boy” sports to massive civil rights marches, Americans have a proud history of speaking out against opinions and laws that exclude or hurt members of our society. Demonstrating for change or protesting injustice does NOT mean you are against your Country.

“This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people who inhabit it. Whenever they shall grow weary of the existing government, they can exercise their constitutional right of amending it…” Abraham Lincoln

The First Amendment to our Constitution promises that “Congress shall make no law…abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” In apparent defiance of those words, the NRA’s video seems to be suggesting gun-owners take aim at demonstrators, meanwhile the current President has attacked the press and incited violence toward his detractors…even posting videos of himself beating up a “member of the press”. When a Republican congressional candidate in Montana body-slammed a reporter into the ground, some of his party members cheered and then they sent him to Congress instead of jail.

We all need to take a deep breath and really consider what it means when our leaders target and undermine the First Amendment. When our rights to peacefully assemble, to a free press, and to freedom of speech are endangered, the whole thing starts to crumble.

“We the people are the rightful masters of both Congress and the courts, not to overthrow the Constitution but to overthrow the men who pervert the Constitution.” Abraham Lincoln

When I have written about standing against the cruel GOP healthcare plan, most of you have been supportive (for which I am grateful). I have also been criticized, though (that was particularly evident when I looked at some of the comments on Senator Tester’s posted video of our chat). People I considered friends have attacked me for being a “worthless liberal” or “pushing my Democratic agenda”.

The truth of the matter is, I am neither Democrat nor Republican…I am a lifelong Independent. My political decisions are not made by party line, but via critical thinking and a little soul searching. Sometimes I swing hard left, on occasion I lean right but the vast majority of the time, I am somewhere in the middle. I am a defender of private property and a champion of public lands. I am a gun owner that believes in the 2nd Amendment…but I would register a BB gun if I thought it would save the life of ONE child. I am a straight woman who passionately believes in the rights of my cherished LGBTQ friends. I respect ethical hunters and prefer game to grocery…but rail against poaching and the cruelty of trapping. I am an ardent supporter of the free press…but don’t believe everything I read (check those facts, baby). You get the idea. I am also willing to pay taxes for things that don’t always benefit me, because I believe we are part of a society and it isn’t all about me. I love my country with a passion…but also believe in my right to protest...in OUR right to protest.

Dissent does not hurt this country as much as complacency and apathy. Too many “reality” shows and “memes” have muddied the water. A large number of people no longer see clearly and, sadly, aren’t willing to look behind the curtain to discern fact from fiction for themselves. Sadder still, people try to dismiss or forget the history we need to remember. We are most at risk when we abandon critical thinking to blindly follow a leader or a party. The worst kind of politicians know this and take advantage by discrediting the press that seeks to call them out, playing on our exhausted disillusionment, and hyping the divide between us to promote violence against one another.

“America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.” Abraham Lincoln

Among my friends are Republicans and Democrats, right-wingers and lefties, straight and gay, rich and poor, myriad races and a plethora of religious affiliations (or lack thereof). No one is “wrong” or “bad” simply for having a different opinion, party, leaning, belief system, sexual orientation, skin color or bank balance. The magnificent diversity of this country is our greatest asset…and, different as we may seem, we all want essentially the same things. Rather than building walls to defend and isolate our differences, we should be having heart to heart, face to face conversations. Perhaps we could find our common ground and then work together to create something better for all of us.

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.” Abraham Lincoln

After I left Mr Lincoln, I caught a cab back to the hotel. My driver was an African American gentleman who had been piloting DC cabs for over a decade. We had a great conversation. When I said I came to DC to talk to my senators about healthcare, he asked “are you an activist?”. That word has such a negative connotation that I automatically laughed a little and said “no, just an artist from Montana”. As we approached Arlington, he said “nothing wrong with being an activist”. He was right. I looked out at the rows of white memorials for people who died for those rights outlined in our Constitution and solemnly replied “I guess I AM an activist”.

The Constitution of this great country promises that every one of us should have the equal right to participate, vote, speak out and stand up for what we believe in. The most empowering aspect of my trip to DC was the visceral reminder that we can be, and SHOULD be, an active (or activist) part of OUR government.

“My dream is of a place and a time where America will once again be seen as the last best hope of earth.” Abraham Lincoln

Happy Birthday, America.