Tag Archives: grandchildren

What Do We Tell Our Grandchildren?

Well, I see that Trump’s effort to remake America into a gulag has claimed another victim: Americorps. 

If you are unfamiliar with Americorps, a recent description from the Brennan Center might be helpful.

The 1994 launch of AmeriCorps—the nation’s premier public service program, a sort of domestic Peace Corps—was one of former President Bill Clinton’s signature achievements. The program aimed to harness the idealism and spirit of service of thousands of Americans eager to contribute time and energy to addressing pressing national and community problems in a hands-on fashion.

That basic vision continues today in the efforts of some 80,000 mostly young AmeriCorps members, who receive minimal living expenses and a modest education stipend (currently $5,815) in exchange for an intense year of work. They perform tasks like tutoring struggling schoolchildren and helping out with after-school activities at under-performing schools; cleaning up parks and other public lands; providing help to veterans and their families; and responding to hurricanes, floods, tornados, and other emergencies. No program, especially one so large and challenging, is perfect. But for most participants, it’s a life-changing experience, one that can help open doors to post-AmeriCorps jobs and careers. The current funding level is $386 million, the same as for fiscal 2016. The agency’s overall allocation is a little more than $1 billion.

I can confirm that reference to “life changing”–my youngest grandson took his gap year as an Americorps volunteer. He was always a good kid–did well in school, didn’t get into trouble, and displayed the sort of empathy currently missing from our federal government–but that year saw enormous maturation. He worked (hard!) with an assortment of young Americans who came from a wide variety of backgrounds, and became newly appreciative of his own privilege. 

That grandson is graduating from college next month. He had initially hoped to work in government, but Trump’s election took that option off the table. He will join an entire cohort of young people graduating into a newly chaotic economic environment, and a threatening political and civic one.

Frank Bruni recently addressed the dilemma of these graduates in a column for the New York Times. I think he spoke for millions of us when he wrote,

It’s a hell of a thing to be surrounded by college seniors a month away from heading out into this new America, a land of malice and madness. My fellow professors and I are supposed to have nuggets of optimism at the ready, gauzy and gooey encomiums about infinite possibilities, the march of progress and that apocryphal arc, the one that bends toward justice. But all I’ve got is the metastasizing pit of fear in my own gut.

In his conversation with students, BruniI recalled the anxiety and uncertainty he’d experienced at their age, what he described as “the gnawing suspense of being on the threshold of adulthood with no clue what it had in store for me.” He confessed an inability to imagine that flux of emotions in a political moment like this one.

College students throughout the country made all sorts of decisions and nurtured all kinds of expectations based on one version of America only to encounter, less than three furious months into Trump’s second presidency, a much, much different one. It’s a situation suffused with bitter ironies: Those students have often been caricatured and vilified for not seeing enough good in America — for focusing on its betrayals rather than its ideals — and now they’re watching its leader betray those ideals daily, hourly, with a shrug or a smirk or, at least metaphorically, a cackle.

Bruni enumerates just a few of Trump’s betrayals: his calculated abandonment of a man consigned to a hellhole in El Salvador because of an administrative error, his “morally perverse assertions that Ukraine is evil and Russia rightly aggrieved, and his pardoning of the savages who smashed their way into the Capitol and bloodied police officers on Jan. 6, 2021.” 

How do we counsel these young people who are encountering, as Bruni says, not merely a change in the rules but the collapse of decency and dignity? What do I tell my own grandchildren, who were raised by a bunch of lawyers and educators and are painfully aware of the severity of the current assault on American values?

What– Bruni asks-is the fallback for a teetering democracy?

The only answer I can muster is to redouble our fidelity to the values exemplified by Americorps and the thousands of other government agencies and nonprofit organizations working to make life better for those who are less fortunate. 

Refuse to submit. Be one of the good Germans.

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Where The Real America Must Go

We’ve just had a crushing blow to our belief in American goodness. Like many of you, I am frantic not for myself–I’m 83, and my likely duration in the Dark Ages won’t be long. But I have children and grandchildren, who are suddenly faced with a world far more precarious than the one we all thought we occupied.

I’m fortunate that one of my sons lives in Amsterdam, and one of my granddaughters lives in England. While the wave of fascism that is sweeping the globe will undoubtedly affect them to some extent, and the global consequences of electing an ignorant lunatic as U.S. President will be significant, their prospects aren’t as bleak as they would be here over the next years.

Or as daunting as the landscape that faces the rest of the family.

My youngest son–parent of the younger two grandkids–has taken what I believe to be the only rational position available to those of us who still occupy a sane and humane America.  With his permission, I’m sharing the message he sent to his son and daughter, both of whom are currently in college, and both of whom were blindsided by the (previously) unthinkable results of the election.

Kids, I’m still struggling to process the election results and to contextualize it in a way that is not entirely negative. I keep coming back to a handful of facts and themes. First, WE (our family) are likely to be OK. While we are psychologically traumatized by the implications of the election — and the thoughts of how bad Trump might be for vulnerable people, minority communities, and non-citizens — our daily lives are unlikely to be directly or irreparably affected by Trump’s election. In saying this, I am not discounting the genuine risk to women — particularly young women of childbearing age — but WE are fortunate enough to have resources and options that likely mute those direct threats.

Second, and really based on the first point, WE now also have a greater obligation to help those who aren’t as fortunate as we are. I don’t know how or in what ways those opportunities will present themselves, but we have an obligation to help those who are going to be attacked or adversely impacted by Trump and Trumpism in the years to come.

Finally, as horrible as many people have shown themselves to be, know that OUR community is still OUR community, and made up of all the same loving, caring, funny, positive-values-holding people. I am trying to focus on these facts in the days, weeks, and years ahead… OUR community will help us weather the dark storms ahead, and we must do our part to help our family and friends weather it as well.

I love you! We will be OK, even if we are currently suffering deep psychological wounds from this election and its implications.

I can’t add to that.

I think that message sums up both the challenge we face and the obligations we must now assume. The challenge is a concerted effort by a cohort of people who believe Hitler “had some good ideas” to remake the United States into a 21st-Century fascist state. There are far more people in that cohort than most of us recognized or still want to believe.

Our obligation is twofold: first, to resist that transformation with every fiber of our beings, with every tool we can muster, with every grassroots organization we can create or support; and second, for those of us who are privileged, who are fortunate that our circumstances (or religions or skin colors) buffer us from the full effect of authoritarian animus, to work wherever and whenever we can to ameliorate the adverse impacts on those less fortunate.

Speaking of community: I’ve been doing this blog for several years, and have been gratified by the genuine sense of community that has grown up among the regular commenters, few of whom know each other personally. With the exception of a couple of trolls who weigh in now and then, you disagree with civility, share your knowledge freely and offer each other–and me– much needed moral support. You are one of the communities my son referenced in his text to my grandchildren.

Like many of you, I am still in shock. But when we emerge, we need to figure out how to save our world–how to gift our children and grandchildren with an America that is recognizable and future worth inhabiting.

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A Walk on the Beach

The two youngest grandchildren, 8 and 10, are with us at the beach (this time, thankfully, with their parents). Both were eager to begin the week with something that has become a ritual–a half-mile walk down the beach to the Inn and across the lobby to the newspaper dispensers, where we buy the local papers before walking back.

The sun was hitting the ocean, the beach was pristine. Other walkers nodded and smiled. The kids ran in and out of the water’s edge. My grandson remarked that his dad had told him that he and his  2 brothers used to sleep in the room he and his sister were now occupying, and that one of them had to sleep on the floor. (Two beds, three boys.)  I laughed and said “I guess I had too many children,” to which he responded, seriously. “That must have been hard on you.”

There is something about family traditions that span generations. And since I am nerd to the core, I looked at my grandchildren and the beach and the ocean, and wondered if vacations like this one will be possible when they have grandchildren.

Will the climate change deniers–the dolts and the economically-motivated and the “we’re going to be Raptured anyway” believers–stop policymakers from taking the steps necessary to protect the planet from further environmental degradation? Is my generation so selfish that we won’t agree to some relatively minor inconveniences now in order to preserve mountains and beaches for the generations to come?

Corny as it is, I couldn’t help remembering a poem my own mother used to recite to me. The stanza I remember: “Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime, and departing, leave behind us, footprints on the sands of time.”

Footprints, hell. I just hope we leave some sand.

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See a Site, Drag Grandpa

There’s an old joke about the golfers who were on the 12th hole when one of their foursome suddenly died. One of the survivors was recounting the experience later to a friend who said sympathetically, “that must have been terrible.” “It was,” replied the golfer. “For the next six holes, it was awful–play a hole, drag Charlie, play a hole, drag Charlie…”

My husband and I are in Williamsburg, Virginia, with our two youngest grandchildren. We’re seeing the historical sites here, then going to Washington, D.C., where we’ll tour the White House and Capitol (thanks to Congressman Carson’s office!), and see still more history. Those of you who read this blog regularly will understand when I say that one of my goals is to ensure that my own grandchildren, at least, know there are three branches of government.

We aren’t as young as we used to be, however, and Grandpa has been limping. Hence the reference to Charlie and his foursome. We see a site, drag Grandpa…

Today, we took the grandkids to a short film about the days/events leading up to the American Revolution. I don’t know how much of the story line they really understood, but my ten-year-old grandson picked up on the slaves who were among the show’s background elements, and asked a question: How could people ever believe it was okay to own other people?

A pretty good question.

As I told him, sometimes we fail to see that things we take for granted are wrong. Sometimes, we’ve done something wrong for so long, we no longer question it. That’s why it is so important to think about the everyday things we do, to consider whether they are right or wrong.

When I get discouraged, I look at my grandchildren. Their friends are multi-colored and multi-cultural. Their friends’ parents are gay and straight, married and single. The children see people as nice or not nice–not as representatives of this or that (artificial) category of human.

And they can’t imagine thinking it was ever okay to own other people.

I think it’s been worth dragging Grandpa.

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