Rebuilding the Broken Food System: A Call to Action

Big Ag Has Corrupted Our Food System. Here’s How We Can Rebuild — An Introduction

There are certain truths in this country that cut across party lines, geography, and ideology. One of them is this: our food system is broken.

For decades, Big Agriculture has consolidated power, squeezed out family farms, degraded our soil and waterways, and flooded our communities with highly processed food that is cheap at the checkout counter but devastatingly expensive to our long-term health. Meanwhile, small farmers struggle to survive, rural communities hollow out, and consumers are left wondering why food is both unaffordable and lower in quality than ever.

This didn’t happen by accident. It happened because policy choices — made in Washington and echoed in statehouses across the country — consistently favored consolidation over competition, scale over sustainability, and corporate profit over public health. When a handful of massive companies control seed, fertilizer, processing, and distribution, the system stops serving people and starts serving shareholders.

As a business owner, I understand efficiency. As a city councilor, I understand budgets and infrastructure. But as someone who cares deeply about community health and long-term resilience, I also understand that a system designed purely for short-term profit is not sustainable. Not for farmers. Not for consumers. And certainly not for the next generation.

Rebuilding our food system isn’t about nostalgia for some imagined past. It’s about creating a modern, resilient, and fair system that supports local agriculture, protects our environment, and ensures that the food on our tables actually nourishes the people eating it.

The following piece lays out how Big Ag helped create the mess we’re in — and, more importantly, how we can begin to fix it.

Big Ag Has Corrupted Our Food System. Here’s How We Can Rebuild.

Austin Frerick explains how eaters and farmers can unite to fix our broken food system

Sara June Jo-Sæbo  February 5, 2026 

I first came across Austin Frerick in The American Conservative in 2019. His story, To Revive Rural America, We Must Fix Our Broken Food System,” with its plain-spoken, factual description of how Big Ag conglomerates have held hostage and defrauded farmers for generations, was an awakening. 

Not since Osha Gray Davidson published his 1990 Broken Heartland: The Rise of America’s Rural Ghetto had I read someone who could break beyond a liberal audience to expose our country’s failed agricultural policy and its impact on rural communities. Both Frerick and Davidson help those from rural places understand what happened to us over the last half-century under the influence of “get big or get out”—the advice Nixon’s Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz gave U.S. farmers in 1973

Like Davidson, Frerick delivers a warning that transcends the politicization of farming: Big Ag monopolies, and the policies that allowed them to thrive, have failed our rural communities and country’s food system, leaving them vulnerable to epic failures. The urgency of that message has even spooked the government officials and powerful industry leaders who helped create the farming crisis we face today. On February 3 former U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) officials from the Bush and Reagan administrations, as well as former heads of industry groups representing corn and soybean farmers, sent a letter to Congress warning of “a widespread collapse of American agriculture” should current economic conditions and Trump administration policies continue.  

But Frerick also sees bold possibilities to disrupt the Big Ag status quo. In his conversation with Barn Raiser, Frerick considers ways to dismantle monopolies and solutions to transform food policy to support small farmers. He invites us to entertain what is possible if we face the crisis in agriculture with strategic action instead of apathy.

Frerick, a seventh generation Iowan, is an expert in antitrust law and agricultural policy. He’s lead projects at the Open Markets Institute and he’s published research and analysis for tax journals, the New York Times, and at the U.S. Department of Treasury. He served as a co-chair on the Biden campaign’s Agriculture Antitrust Policy Committee. His 2024 book, Barons: Money, Power, and the Corruption of America’s Food Industry exposes the families who control America’s agricultural monopolies.

This is the first of a two-part interview with Frerick.

The last time I talked to you was back in September when the Arkansas farmers were raising alarm bells. At a hearing with the House Agriculture, Forestry and Natural Resources subcommittee, Arkansas lenders and farmers warned that 1 in 3 farms could close without federal aid because of how Trump’s tariffs had upended export markets. How are you making sense of the moment we find ourselves in?

What’s happening with farmers says everything about this moment. Last week, the New York Times ran a story saying farmers are going to let their crops rot because the prices are so bad. At the same time, we’re having a food affordability crisis. That juxtaposition captures how broken our food system is, where farmers are letting crops rot and they’re barely getting by as Americans are paying more and more for food in the stores.

On January 1, the U.S. Department of Agriculture began implementing a new rule requiring that “Product of U.S.A.” labeling on meat only apply to livestock born, processed, finished in the United States. Is this a win for farmers and eaters?

No, and here’s why. I’m so sick of giving gold stars for doing basic things. When Americans buy meat that says “made in America,” it should mean made in America. This debate has been going on for more than a decade. To me, this is a good example of the incompetency of the USDA: You don’t get a reward for doing your job.

It’s embarrassing more than anything that it took them this long to make the “Product of U.S.A” label mean something.

The scariest thing to me right now in the beef market is this: Normally in moments like this where prices are high and herd populations are low, ranchers expand the herd. But they’re not doing that. We’re not seeing herd expansion.

And what this is telling me is these markets have been so tight for so long. They don’t trust the  USDA to police these markets and they don’t think they’ll get a good price in the future. So they’re essentially letting the American herd shrink. That means more and more of our beef will have to be imported. What’s going on in the beef markets is a good example of just how hard it is to farm in America anymore.

I want to talk about pricing for a second. In 2019, the cost for a pound of hamburger was just under four dollars. Today it’s more like six and a half dollars. Many eaters can’t afford hamburger anymore. So, who’s making the money for the last seven years?

The Big Four meatpackers (Tyson, JBS, Cargill and National Beef). R-CALF USA is a great cattlemen’s organization and they have a chart I love to show in my presentations. For the longest time, what Americans spend for beef and the dollars ranchers get in return has been closely correlated. What happened in 2015 is a significant divergence started to occur. Today that gap is wider than ever. And that to me is a story of monopoly. You’re seeing Americans spend record prices for beef, but that’s not going to the farmer. It’s all going to the four largest meatpackers.

Line graph showing the prices of cattle and beef over time, with blue bars representing all fresh beef prices and a red line indicating the price of 1100-1300 lb. steers. The graph highlights the disparity between crashing cattle prices and rising consumer beef prices.

The largest meatpacker in America (JBS) is owned by a cartoonishly corrupt Brazilian family, the Batistas. They were also Trump’s largest inauguration donor. So it’s all going to them.

Think of what this means for rural communities. You’re seeing the wealth of rural America being hollowed out. Farmers are producing the most they’ve ever produced, but that wealth is not staying in their community. And so Americans are paying more and a secretive family, whether it is the Cargills of Cargill or the Batistas of JBS, is capturing all that.

And on top of it, you’re seeing a lot of corners being cut. Beef imported from Brazil is just not as good. Something I realized in the last few years is this whole system is making bad tasting food.

I get chicken through a local farmer right here in southwest Virginia. When you start eating locally, like chicken that’s raised on a normal farm, the difference is amazing compared to the Tyson chicken you buy in a chain store. Eaters have no idea.

It’s also that the farmer doing it right, managing their operation locally, is not playing on a level playing field. The local farmer is not getting government subsidies. These industrial big corporations are. It’s just not fair.

My favorite example to illustrate this is butter. Butter in America is awful. It’s white. It’s hard. It doesn’t spread well.

Most of the butter in America now comes from Bakersfield, California. It’s cows on a feedlot next to an oil rig, being fed corn. On the other hand, Kerrygold is now the second largest branded butter in America. Irish butter. People love it. Here’s the thing: That’s the way butter used to be in America. But now it’s a premium. Now it’s only for the yuppie class, which just shows you how many corners are being cut.

We’ve chosen to subsidize this really bad system. And most of the subsidies are just being captured by a few rich oligarchs or robber barons.

Tyson Foods announced in January that they’re cutting 5,000 employees in their industry. They cut a line in Amarillo, Texas, with about 1,700 employees losing their jobs. And then in Lexington, Nebraska, they’re closing a whole beef processing plant. That’s 3,200 employees who are losing their jobs. Lexington, in Dawson County, has a population of 10,348. So about a third of the whole community is facing unemployment. But for Tyson, this is just business as usual.

The reason Tyson gave is it expected to lose $250-$500 million in its beef segment, so they are deciding to scale back operations. Yet the United States right now is not producing enough beef to meet demand. What is happening here, and why is Tyson closing domestic processing plants?

It’s a few things. As I mentioned earlier, our beef supply chain is moving offshore. But Tyson’s also in a weird pickle. Other big beef packers like JBS are state-backed monopolies. Tyson doesn’t have these Brazilian operations like they do.

You also can’t deny the climate crisis here.

A lot of former beef packing regions are getting too hot and the aquifers are getting too low. A few years ago, in western Kansas, thousands of cattle died because of a heat wave.

At the same time the ethanol mandate has essentially pushed a lot of cattle ranchers off the land. Ranchers are in this weird pickle where they have less land because of the climate crisis, but then corn being grown from ethanol subsidies is taking over a lot more land too. They just can’t compete for land against ethanol. And on top of it, margins are getting tight because of the price squeezes they’re getting from the big meatpackers. And a lot of them ranchers are just saying it’s not worth it.

When you look at the situation in Lexington, Nebraska, is a disaster for a small town and rural area around it. When these corporations come in, they sell an area on job creation, they invest and that increases the tax base, and then they up and close, they leave. It’s like a death sentence. Can you talk about that?

My perspective on this is shaped by Newton, Iowa. Newton used to be home to Maytag appliances, where the company was founded in 1893. The town even used to be called the “Washing Machine Capital of the World.” Maytag’s last factory closed in 2006. I went to college down the road in Grinnell, Iowa, and Maytag’s closing was like watching a slow death. Because you don’t realize it overnight.

What tends to happen is you can’t sell your home when these things close, and your home is everything in America. That’s your wealth. Some people just take a loss, try to restart elsewhere. Others start doing long commutes. So in the case of Newton, people start driving like an hour to Des Moines for new jobs, making a fraction of what they used to.

Think about what that does for the local community of Newton, Iowa. People have less time to be active in their communities. On top of it, they have less money. This is how the slow decay of the community begins. Don’t get me wrong, Newton has tried really hard since to recreate itself. The town has tried to get back on its feet, but it’s not the same as it used to be. What was unique in Newton’s case is they also lost a white-collar workforce. A lot of the workers in Maytag would live in the town, like the ad people, and all that’s gone.

The scary thing in the case of Tyson closing its plant in Lexington, Nebraska, is it’s pretty remote. There’s not a lot of job options nearby. And so I think it’s going to hurt the community even more because you just can’t drive two hours for a job. Some people might, but a lot of people will probably just take a big financial hit and try to restart somewhere else. I think an underappreciated thing of consolidation are all the towns that are hollowed out because of it.

Austin, you’re an expert in antitrust law. What do you see as the future of antitrust legislation and the enforcement?

First of all, fun little fact: The first antitrust laws in the world come out of Iowa. It was Iowa farmers mad against the railroads and grain elevators. So they organized the Iowa legislative body to pass the first antitrust laws in the world. Then a few states copied it. And then eventually D.C. copied it as well. I love telling this story because it’s ingrained in me the notion that D.C. is always the last to know. Change in America always starts locally.

The New Deal didn’t just happen in D.C. A lot of the New Deal actually came out of Wisconsin, where the state legislature created several measures that have now been called the “little New Deal.” These ideas are always incubated in small towns and states in America. And it’s also part of the Iowa culture of fairness. The joke is that usually the richest person in Iowa is an old farmer in the back with overalls on.

There’s a humbleness I’ve always respected. And I think that’s why a lot of Iowans gravitate towards anti-monopoly stuff.

But to your question in the future of antitrust. Honestly, the reason why I love antitrust issues the most is it’s one of most bipartisan things right now in America. Everyone’s feeling like they’re being shortchanged for different reasons, and it’s unifying.

My whole thing is: Don’t blame the immigrant, blame Tyson. People have a right to feel their anger, but we need to redirect it to productive means. I also view this whole thing as cyclical. The goal of any corporate executive is monopoly. That’s where profits are.

Corporate people don’t want competitive markets. Government wants competitive markets because that’s good for innovation, it’s good for workers, it’s good for farmers. So you have a natural tension between the two. We’re at a new laissez-faire moment in American history where business has captured government and things have gone too far. We need to usher in a reform era.

Chart displaying U.S. meat brands owned by major meatpackers Tyson Foods, JBS, and Cargill, with logos of various brands arranged in quadrants, accurate as of April 2025.

So what should we do? What should a well-regulated meat market look like? You can only be angry for so long. I really want to focus on articulating hope, what things could be.

The beauty of a family farm a diversified operation because it makes you resilient. Diversity breeds resiliency. The system we have now pushes people to one or two crops, which makes you very fragile. One bad thing happens and it can wipe you out. It also makes it really expensive.

Look at bird flu, for example. When you have that many genetically similar cows living in the same confined area, you’re just asking for trouble.

And then we have this expensive, fragile, broken system that makes bad tasting food.

How do we think about antitrust enforcement as our food production moves international? Does legislation like the Packers and Stockyards Act, which was meant to reign in meat monopolies, apply?

That is the key question here. The short answer is: No.

Trade agreements, have essentially moved our produce system offshore, especially anything that’s labor intensive. Look at California. California used to produce a lot of produce. Today, it’s mostly nuts, because that’s more mechanical work. The second agriculture production moves offshore, labor and environmental standards collapse. In Barons, I talk about Driscoll’s. Driscoll’s is my berry baron. They sell one in three berries globally.

A lot of their berry production has now moved to Baja, California. These are essentially modern-day plantations. And it’s very, hard to inspect them. As a journalist, you’re putting yourself at risk if you want to go investigate them. And on top of it, the USDA’s Food Inspection Service has been gutted by the Trump administration, which would inspect food imported to this country. So it’s a Wild West. You cannot compete on price against a berry picked by a child in Latin America. And it undermines the growers doing it here domestically.

Going back to the issue of taste: When your produce is coming from Chile, it’s not going to taste good. That produce is engineered for durability, not for taste.

I’ve followed your work for a few years, and I see you navigating some polarized political scenes concerning agriculture and farming. On the one side, Barons received good reviews from publications like The American Conservative. And on another end, you’re also speaking at events like the Real Organic Project at Churchtown Dairy, in Hudson, New York. Do you see agriculture as a polarized issue in today’s politics?

In the same month this past summer I keynoted one of the largest cattle conferences and I also keynoted one of the largest vegan food festivals. I love being able to tell people that. I’m a big believer that things get done when you have a big tent approach and weird bedfellows get together.

Because who isn’t happy after a good meal? I always like to redirect the conversation there.

Neither party really has a vision here. An undercurrent in Barons is my dislike of Tom Vilsack [the former Iowa Governor and Secretary of Agriculture under Obama and Biden].

To me, there’s nothing worse for a democracy than when a politician pretends to be your friend, and they undermine you. A lot of people over the years have been galvanized in Iowa fighting these industrial animal facilities, fighting these Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) wanting to break up Big Ag. A lot of farmers went on a limb, testified. Not only did Vilsack not do anything, he made all the situations worse. That’s how people lose their faith in government.

How do we get out of the situation we’re in? We actually know what to do here. We’ve addressed the concentration crisis in the meat packing before, such as with policies like the Packers and Stockyards Act. The question right now is political courage.

flip.it/EC1eN2

Granite Staters Pay The Price.

Granite Staters Pay the Price

Your taxes are too high.

So are mine.

In New Hampshire, we pride ourselves on thrift, accountability, and a deep skepticism of wasteful government. “Live within your means” isn’t a slogan here—it’s a way of life. Which is exactly why what’s happening in Washington should infuriate every Granite Stater, regardless of party.

One of the biggest drivers of unnecessary federal spending is rarely said out loud: Donald Trump’s immigration policies and the unchecked expansion of ICE enforcement. These policies cost taxpayers billions of dollars every year. Not billions spent fixing a broken immigration system. Not billions spent making communities safer. Billions spent on cruelty, chaos, and political theater.

And the human cost matters.

Our tax dollars paid for the killing of two U.S. citizens on the streets of Minneapolis.

Our tax dollars paid for an untold number of people dying in federal detention facilities.

Our tax dollars paid for families to be separated—children taken from parents with no plan, no tracking, and no accountability.

That is not law enforcement. That is state-funded harm.

Granite Staters are constantly told there’s no money. No money for infrastructure. No money for housing. No money for public safety officers. No money for working families who are already stretched thin.

Yet somehow, there is always money for ICE expansion.

Always money for detention contracts.

Always money for cruelty dressed up as “border security.”

And when it comes time to pass spending bills, Congress stalls—not to protect taxpayers, but to protect politicians. Senator Lindsey Graham has openly acknowledged holding up legislation so certain Republican senators could secure protections and payouts tied to the preservation of their phone records after January 6.

Let that sink in.

There is money to protect politicians from embarrassment.

There is money for federal enforcement overreach.

But there is no money for the Capitol Police officers who were beaten and injured while defending our democracy.

That is not fiscal responsibility. That is moral bankruptcy.

New Hampshire didn’t sign up for this. We didn’t agree to fund violence, family separation, or political cover-ups. We didn’t agree to higher taxes so Washington could reward bad behavior and call it “security.”

If New Hampshire families are expected to balance their budgets, Washington should be held to the same standard—starting by ending wasteful, brutal policies that betray both our wallets and our values.

Our tax dollars should protect people.

Not tear families apart.

Not shield politicians from consequences.

Utility Costs Crisis: Small Business Owner’s Perspective

REMARKS FOR UTILITIES PRESS CONFERENCE


A speaker addresses a crowd at a rally organized by the New Hampshire Democratic Party, taking place outdoors in snowy conditions. Several attendees stand behind the speaker, dressed warmly in winter clothing.

January 28, 2026 

Good morning everyone. My name is Tony Retrosi. I’m here wearing two hats today.

I’m a small business owner. My wife and I own Atlantic Gymnastics Training Center, with two locations here in New Hampshire. We employ dozens of people. We heat two big buildings in Dover and Portsmouth. We keep the lights on from early morning until late at night. We run on thin margins, tight schedules, and a deep responsibility to our staff and families.

And I’m also a Dover City Councilor. I spend a lot of my time listening to residents. And more and more, the same issue keeps coming up at doors, at meetings, and in emails: utility costs. Heating. Electricity. Gas. The basic cost of keeping your home livable.

Last Thursday, those two worlds collided in a pretty sobering way.

Because of a faulty gas meter, one of my facilities had to close that day. No heat. No safe way to operate. We had to shut the doors until it could be fixed and the tank refilled.

That’s a disruption for my business. It’s lost revenue. It’s canceled classes. It’s staff sent home. It’s parents scrambling.

But here’s the part that really hit me:

As stressful as that was for my business, I knew we’d figure it out. We had options. We made calls. We solved the problem.

Now imagine if that wasn’t my business.

Imagine if that was your home.

Imagine if you were a parent walking into the coldest stretch of winter, your heat suddenly gone, your tank empty, and your only question is: What do I not pay so I can pay this? Rent? Groceries? Medication?

That is not a hypothetical. That is the reality for too many people in New Hampshire right now under Kelly Ayotte and Donald Trump. 

As a business owner, I see how rising utility costs squeeze everything: wages, expansion, stability, and long-term planning. 

As a city councilor, I hear the same thing from residents. Fixed-income seniors. Young families. Middle-class Granite Staters who never imagined they’d be one emergency away from a financial cliff.

People are not asking for luxury.

They are asking to be warm.

They are asking to keep the lights on.

Kelly Ayotte is unwilling to tackle this issue. She slashed investments in clean energy projects, which would help provide savings for communities, school districts, and small businesses like mine. And she hasn’t pushed back against Trump’s toxic agenda, which has started to remove cheaper, cleaner energy sources from the grid and driven up utility bills by 13%.

Governor Ayotte should be doing the job she was elected to do and taking this affordability crisis seriously. 

Last Thursday, my gym was cold and quiet.

Too many homes are feeling the same way.

And that should be unacceptable to all of us—and  most especially Kelly Ayotte.

When We Become the Bad Guys: A Nation’s Soul in Crisis

When We Become the Bad Guys: A Nation’s Soul in Crisis

Today, in Minneapolis, yet another life was taken at the hands of federal immigration enforcement. A 37-year-old man — a human being with a story, with a life, with loved ones — was shot and killed by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents during a crowded federal operation. 

This comes on the heels of the tragic killing of Renée Good earlier this month — a 37-year-old Minneapolis mother who was fatally shot by an ICE officer during an operation that reverberated in protests across the country. 

This is not about left vs. right. It’s not about bumper-sticker slogans. This is about the humanity of our nation and the values that we claim to hold dear.

We Have Crossed a Line

When federal agents — agents of our government — kill people on the streets of an American city, it is not just a legal question. It is a moral one.

We must ask ourselves: Who have we become?

Are we a country that responds to people with violence? A nation where citizens and residents can be shot and killed in broad daylight under federal authority — and where the narrative is immediately about enforcing policy before establishing facts? 

Are we a people who have so normalized force that the blood of our neighbors barely registers beyond the headlines?

This Is About Humanity — Not Politics

Let’s be clear: this is not a political rant — it is a cry from the heart. It is about how we treat one another as human beings.

We are at a moment where hurt people hurt people. But that does not excuse it. If anything, it demands a deeper reckoning. Violence breeds more violence, distrust sows division, and the value of a life — especially one taken in the streets of our cities — cannot be reduced to a talking point or justification.

When “Law and Order” Becomes Another Excuse for State Violence

Too often the language of security and enforcement is used to mask the reality of power and control. When your own government agents are perceived by everyday people — across the political spectrum — as threats, something profound and tragic has shifted.

Conservatism, at its core, should mean prudence, restraint, respect for life, and localism. Populism should aim to uplift the people, not subjugate them. But when these policies result in more trauma, fear, and bloodshed — policies justified in the name of “law enforcement” — we are not being conservative … we are being reckless.

This is no longer popular policy. This is suffering inflicted upon ordinary people.

MAGA, Militarization, and Loss of Moral Compass

Whatever else you want to call it, what we are witnessing feels like a nation losing its moral compass:

Armed federal agents policing our streets. Lives ended in moments that should never have happened. Families left to mourn while official justifications rush to defend the indefensible. 

What was once fringe has become institutional. What was once unthinkable has become permissible.

A Message to Fellow Americans

If you voted for the policies that led us here — out of hope for better times, a stronger economy, or safety — I hear you. I forgive you. You were lied to. You were told one thing and delivered something else.

You are a person of conscience trying to navigate an impossible moment.

But if you continue to support this trajectory — not as a critique, but as endorsement — I will say clearly: may God have mercy on your soul.

Because this is not the United States as it was meant to be. This is not the land of justice and liberty for all. This is not a people united in compassion.

What Must Happen Next

We are called not to surrender to despair, but to wake up. To insist that:

Human life is sacred. State violence must be limited and accountable. No person should live in fear of those meant to serve and protect. Our leaders — of every political stripe — must be held accountable.

Every politician who supports the normalization of deaths like these should face the accountability of the ballot box.

This is about the soul of America.

It is time to confront the reality that when the government becomes a source of fear instead of safety, we have failed each other.

We can do better. We must do better.

For the sake of every mother, father, child, and neighbor — for all of us.

Remembering Denise Retrosi- Edmonds: A Life Full of Adventure and Love

How do you say goodbye to the person who brought you into this world?

To the person who taught you to walk, to run, and to laugh—often at yourself.

A woman wearing a teal jacket stands between two horses, smiling and gently touching one of them. The background features a rural landscape with snow-capped mountains.

Denise  Retrosi Edmonds

July 17, 1946 –  January 5, 2026 age 79

Denise Retrosi -Edmonds passed away peacefully at the age of 79, leaving behind a life so full, adventurous, creative, and deeply loved that it almost feels unfair to try to fit it into words.

Denise was born July 17, 1946, in Canton, Ohio, to Dean and Violet Carlisle. From the very beginning, she carried a toughness balanced by warmth, fairness, and an unmistakable joy for life. My mom was the original badass.

As a single mother early in our lives, she somehow mastered the art of being “spontaneous.” She would give my brother Chris and me a few hours to pack for a “quick trip” to Washington, D.C. or North Carolina. As an adult, I now understand how much planning, sacrifice, saved money, time off work, and sheer determination went into those so-called spontaneous adventures. She made magic look easy.

In 1982, Denise married Robert “Bob” Edmonds. Together they blended their families and raised four strong boys—each of whom went on to find their own versions of success, love, and purpose. She is survived by her husband Bob; her siblings Dean Carlisle (Flo Carlisle), Liz Carlisle, and Lisa McIntosh; and her children Tony Retrosi (Stephanie Retrosi), Tom Edmonds (Indra Edmonds), and Chris Retrosi. She is reunited with our brother, her son Jeff Edmonds (deceased), who was married to Bridget Edmonds.

Through those boys came nine grandchildren who were the absolute center of her world: Madison and Chase Retrosi; Emilia and James Edmonds; Joseph, Michael, and Mathew Retrosi; and Fiona and Oliver Edmonds. She didn’t just love her grandchildren—she invested in them. Hard. Fully. Joyfully.

My Mom spent much of her life in the gymnastics world as a coach, club administrator, and official, judging and coaching all the way up through National Championships.  She was my first coach and mentor. I would not be the coach I am today without the education she gave me. She shaped athletes, but more importantly, she shaped people—teaching confidence, resilience, and how to show up prepared for life.

A selfie of two people smiling in front of a scenic landscape with steam rising from geothermal features, suggesting a cold environment.

She was always up for adventure. She traveled widely, visited many countries, cruised Cape Horn, and seemed to collect experiences the way others collect souvenirs. From Iceland to Italy, from China to Argentina, from visiting family in Sweden to hiking Glacier National Park—if there was something new to see, she wanted to see it.

Music and laughter were constant companions. She loved to sing, performing with groups on the Seacoast of New Hampshire, and she loved entertaining. She was often the life of the party, always dressed to be noticed, always ready to celebrate life.

Silhouette of a woman overlooking the ocean at sunset, with warm golden light reflecting on the water.

One of the most treasured chapters of Denise and Bob’s life was their home on North River Lake in New Hampshire. There, she taught everyone to waterski, and she and Bob were equally happy to provide near-death experiences on the tube. That lake became a training ground not just for balance and bravery—but for memories.

She was never the grandma who quietly baked cookies and whispered reminders. She was the grandma who took kids on expeditions. Picking up our children after a weekend with Grandma and Grandpa was always an adventure report: they had stayed up late to look at the stars, gone swimming and fishing, planted in the garden, gone for hikes, and possibly dissected roadkill. They were introduced to exotic cuisine like Hot Pockets and Cheese Whiz. Vegetables were rarely harmed in the process.

One memory that will never leave me is pulling into the driveway at the lake—both kids flinging their doors open, running full speed, and tackling her in the garden, covering her with kisses while she laughed so hard she could barely stand. I can still hear that laughter.

In retirement, after relocating to Punta Gorda, Florida in 2010, Denise didn’t slow down—she simply changed scenery. She became the grandma of the neighborhood. She gardened, beaded, crafted, birded, kayaked the Peace River, boated, fished, explored. She and Bob turned weekends into adventures.

In her Florida neighborhood, children constantly asked her to “come out and play.” She was loved there as she was everywhere—because she showed up, because she listened, because she laughed, because she made life feel lighter.

I always knew it wouldn’t last forever.

I just wished it lasted longer.

Mom lived boldly. She loved fiercely. She created a life full of movement, music, dirt under her fingernails, grandchildren in her arms, and stories that will be told for generations.

She was an avid reader and especially loved Stephen King novels introducing me to his work when I was about 12 and then my daughter to his writing as well. BTW- we just got a notice that she has an overdue book from the local library. Well- good luck tracking her down! 

Her laughter will echo in all of us.

From Stephen Kings The Dark Tower: 

Go Now, Our journey is done. And may we meet again in the clearing at the end of the path.  

Untitled Poem I wrote the other night. 

She stood like stone and summer rain,

tough hands, an open heart,

fair in her judgments, steady in her love,

never louder than her laughter.

She loved without bargaining,

taught without preaching,

and when life tested us,

she stood firm so we could bend.

Now she has crossed the quiet line,

where strong women are not laid to rest

but welcomed—

cups raised, stories told.

From Valhalla her laughter rings,

bright and fearless,

rolling like thunder we somehow recognize.

We walk on steadier ground because she walked first.

We love more bravely because she showed us how.

And though her hands we cannot hold,

her strength is woven into our days.

Tony Retrosi, 4 January 2026

A hand-drawn quote saying, 'When I look back on life, I want to see I didn't try to age gracefully... I aged hilariously, mischievously, and with plenty of stories to tell.'
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What Was Promised vs. What Was Done

What Was Promised vs. What Was Done

“No More Foreign Wars”

Promised:

Trump repeatedly said he would keep the United States out of foreign entanglements and end “endless wars.”

Done:

• Expanded drone strikes dramatically

• Authorized airstrikes in Syria

• Assassinated Iranian General Qasem Soleimani, nearly triggering a regional war

• Bombed Venezuelan vessels and openly threatened regime change

• Increased U.S. military presence in the Middle East at multiple points

“America First” (Not Billionaires First)

Promised:

Trump claimed he would fight for working Americans and stop elites from rigging the system.

Done:

• Passed a massive tax cut where the largest benefits went to corporations and the wealthy

• Oversaw record stock buybacks instead of wage growth

• Left working families with temporary tax cuts while corporate cuts were permanent

“Drain the Swamp”

Promised:

Trump vowed to eliminate corruption, lobbyists, and insider politics in Washington.

Done:

• Appointed more former lobbyists to senior roles than previous administrations

• Installed family members in powerful White House positions

• Used the presidency to enrich Trump-branded properties through official events

“Law and Order”

Promised:

Trump said he would restore respect for the law and uphold American institutions.

Done:

• Pressured the Justice Department to investigate political opponents

• Pardoned political allies and donors

• Encouraged disregard for court rulings and legal norms

• Undermined trust in elections without evidence

“Protect Social Security and Medicare”

Promised:

Trump repeatedly said he would not cut Social Security or Medicare.

Done:

• Proposed budgets that reduced Medicare spending

• Supported payroll tax changes that threatened Social Security funding

• Backed Republican efforts to privatize or weaken entitlement programs

“Support the Troops”

Promised:

Trump said he would be the strongest president for the military.

Done:

• Diverted military funds to build a border wall

• Reportedly disparaged fallen service members

• Politicized the armed forces for domestic purposes

“Bring Manufacturing Back”

Promised:

Trump claimed factories and jobs would return to American soil.

Done:

• Manufacturing entered recession before COVID

• Trade wars hurt farmers and manufacturers alike

• Jobs lost to automation and outsourcing were not replaced

“Fix Health Care”

Promised:

Trump promised a “better, cheaper” health care plan that would cover everyone.

Done:

• No replacement plan was ever produced

• Attempted repeatedly to repeal the ACA without a viable alternative

• Millions remained uninsured or underinsured

“Respect the Constitution”

Promised:

Trump swore to uphold and defend the Constitution.

Done:

• Attacked the free press as “the enemy of the people”

• Threatened to suspend parts of the Constitution

• Encouraged efforts to overturn certified election results

“Unite the Country”

Promised:

Trump claimed he would bring Americans together.

Done:

• Governed through division and grievance

• Used race, immigration, and fear as political tools

• Deepened distrust in democratic institutions

The Pattern

Trump’s presidency was not defined by broken promises due to complexity or compromise.

It was defined by saying one thing and doing the opposite — often loudly, often proudly.

“Strong Leadership” (Also Known as Mandatory Praise Night)

Promised:

Trump promised strong, decisive leadership surrounded by “the best people.”

Delivered:

A federal government run like a televised loyalty audition.

• Cabinet meetings looked less like policy discussions and more like an episode of America’s Got Talent: Authoritarian Edition

• Secretaries took turns thanking him for the honor of being allowed to sit at the table

• Praise was not optional. It was survival

• Facts were negotiable. Ego was not

• Competence was secondary to enthusiasm

At one point, senior officials were practically tripping over each other to say, “Thank you, Mr. President, for your historic, visionary, unmatched leadership.”

If you closed your eyes, you couldn’t tell whether you were watching the U.S. Cabinet or North Korean state television.

This wasn’t confidence.

It was insecurity with a microphone.

The Cult, Not the Cabinet

In a healthy democracy, advisors challenge the president.

In Trump’s White House, they praised first, governed second.

• Tell the truth? Fired.

• Disagree politely? Labeled “weak” or “disloyal.”

• Break the law for him? Congratulations, you’re “very brave.”

The message was crystal clear:

Your job was not to serve the country. Your job was to serve the man.

When leaders demand flattery, bad news stops traveling upward.

Warnings get buried.

Reality gets filtered.

That’s how you get:

• Policy made on impulse

• National security decisions driven by cable news

• A government afraid of telling its boss he’s wrong

Strong leaders don’t need applause.

Authoritarians do.

We didn’t watch a president command respect. We watched grown adults audition for approval.

And the scary part isn’t that it happened.

It’s how many people are pretending it was normal.

I honestly feel sorry for many of our neighbors who voted for Trump—not out of condescension, but out of empathy. They were promised prosperity, safety, and stability, and their hopes were real and understandable. Instead, we all lived through chaos, division, and a constant sense that the country was one impulse away from crisis. Our communities weren’t made safer, our costs didn’t go down, and our lives didn’t suddenly get easier. What was sold as strength turned out to be spectacle; what was promised as protection delivered uncertainty. Being misled is not a moral failure—but pretending the damage didn’t happen is how we ensure it happens again.

A SEASON OF HOPE: The Geography of Family

A SEASON OF HOPE: The Geography of Family

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There are moments in life when the world feels a little softer, a little slower, and, if we’re paying attention, a little more sacred. For me, one of those moments happens every year during a long weekend in Colorado that my family affectionately calls Thanksmas. Part Thanksgiving, part Christmas, part chaotic family reunion, and entirely its own thing, it’s become one of the anchor points on our collective calendar.

Years ago our daughter and her boyfriend moved to Colorado. My son and his now fiancé drove out to visit and loved it. They followed them out to Colorado. No matter where life pulls us, new jobs, new cities, new adventures—this is the weekend we circle. We show up. We gather. We laugh until our ribs hurt. We eat too much. We retell the same stories, embellishing them each year like responsible adults. And we simply enjoy being together as the weird, wonderful tribe that we are.

This year, as I sit here in Colorado surrounded by my adult children and their partners, I’m reminded that the real magic of family isn’t in the big events—it’s in the decision to keep choosing one another. Again and again. Year after year.

One of the hardest times for me was five years ago, when I was working in Switzerland and couldn’t make it to Colorado. I had tried to pretend I was fine with it, “I’m in the Alps! I’m drinking hot chocolate! It’s practically cozier than being with my family!”—but of course, it wasn’t. Nothing replaces being physically present with the people who know your history, your quirks, and your questionable sense of humor.

But here’s the beautiful part: my family brought me anyway.

They printed out photos of me—full face, life-sized head, the whole works—and hauled “Flat Tony” around Colorado like some sort of wandering garden gnome. They took pictures of him doing all the things I would have done: eating, hiking, drinking beer, looking confused in gift shops… They even made sure he had his own seat in the car. It was ridiculous. It was touching. It was perfect.

And it reminded me of something essential: family doesn’t always look traditional, or tidy, or perfectly arranged. Sometimes it looks like cardboard cutouts. Sometimes it looks like mismatched schedules and last-minute flights. Sometimes it looks like adult children and their partners choosing—actively choosing—to hold space for one another in a world that keeps trying to rush us past the moments that matter.

This season, as the year winds down and we all start taking stock, I’m holding onto this truth:

Time with the people you love is never guaranteed, always precious, and absolutely worth protecting.

So here’s to Thanksmas.

Here’s to showing up.

Here’s to laughing at ourselves.

Here’s to the families we’re born into, the families we build, and the families who are willing to carry around a printed photo of your head when international travel ruins your plans.

In this Season of Hope, may we all find our way back—no matter how far we’ve wandered—to the people who feel like home.

We used to be the “Good Guys”

When “Kill Them All” Meets “Refuse Illegal Orders”

In the last week we’ve watched two stories collide in a way that should make every American deeply uneasy.

On one side, we have reporting that Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth allegedly ordered U.S. forces to “kill everybody” on a suspected drug-trafficking boat in the Caribbean. After an initial strike near Trinidad destroyed the vessel on September 2, 2025, two survivors were reportedly seen clinging to the wreckage. According to multiple sources, a second strike was ordered specifically to ensure there were no survivors. 

If that reporting is accurate, this isn’t just a “tough on drugs” policy. It is the deliberate killing of people who are hors de combat—no longer actively engaged in hostilities and no longer a threat. Under international humanitarian law, that is the textbook definition of a war crime.

You can read some of the coverage yourself:

Washington Post: “[Hegseth order on first Caribbean boat strike, officials say: ‘Kill them all’]” (paywalled for some) 

Daily Beast: “[Pentagon Pete in Legal Peril Over ‘Kill Them All’ Orders]”  Overview of the strikes: “[2025 United States military strikes on alleged drug traffickers]” 

Hegseth and the Pentagon have tried to explain this away as debris removal or routine targeting in an anti-narcotics campaign. Members of Congress, military lawyers, and human rights experts aren’t buying it. Some have openly said that, if the facts hold, this was murder ordered from the top.

Maggie Goodlander and the “Illegal Orders” Firestorm

Goodlander and five other Democratic lawmakers — all with military or intelligence backgrounds — released a short video reminding U.S. service members of something that has been drilled into them since basic training: you can, and must, refuse illegal orders. 

Their message was simple:

“You must refuse illegal orders. No one has to carry out orders that violate the law or our Constitution.” 

For stating what every JAG officer teaches and what military law already requires, they’ve been accused of “sedition,” threatened with execution on social media by the President, and now face FBI interviews. 

Some key coverage:

NHPR: “[Goodlander stands by video urging service members to refuse illegal orders]” 

InDepthNH: “[FBI Investigates Goodlander, 5 Dem Lawmakers For Video Telling Troops Not To Obey Illegal Orders]” 

FactCheck.org: “[Experts Say Democratic Video Not ‘Seditious,’ as Trump Claims]” 

Legal experts are nearly unanimous: reminding troops not to commit war crimes is not sedition. It’s literally defending the rule of law.

This Is Exactly What They Were Warning About

When Goodlander and others said, “You have no obligation to follow illegal orders,” many on the right screamed that they were undermining the chain of command.

But look at the Hegseth episode and ask: Isn’t this exactly the scenario they were talking about?

If a Cabinet-level official orders a second strike on two people flailing in the water, that’s not a gray area. That’s not a complicated split-second battlefield call. That’s an order to execute survivors — an order that any reasonably trained professional should recognize as unlawful.

If that’s what happened, then it’s not just Pete Hegseth who may face legal jeopardy. The officers who relayed the order and the personnel who pulled the trigger on that second strike may be exposed as well. “I was just following orders” didn’t work at Nuremberg. It doesn’t work under U.S. military law either.

And that is the heart of Goodlander’s message: obeying an illegal order is its own crime.

Were We Ever the “Good Guys”?

Growing up, many of us were taught that the United States were the “good guys.” We believed — or wanted to believe — that our country tried to do the right thing, even when we fell short.

But you can’t square that self-image with:

A Defense Secretary allegedly saying “kill them all” about a group of suspected traffickers on a small boat.  A second strike launched to finish off survivors who were clearly no longer a threat.  A President who labels lawmakers “traitors” for reminding service members to follow the law, then calls for them to be prosecuted or worse. 

If we accept that as normal, we are not the “good guys” anymore. We’re just another country that talks about freedom while quietly giving the green light to kill whoever is in the way.

Here’s what accountability should look like:

A full, independent investigation into the Caribbean strikes, with all relevant intelligence and targeting data made available to Congress and, as much as possible, the public. Clear legal analysis, made public, explaining how this operation was supposedly lawful — or admitting that it was not. Accountability up and down the chain of command if the facts confirm that survivors were deliberately targeted. That includes the person who gave the order and those who carried it out. Protection, not persecution, for lawmakers who are reminding our troops of their duty not to commit war crimes. They are defending the Constitution, not attacking it.

Maggie Goodlander’s point was simple: Service members are not required to surrender their moral judgment, their legal obligations, or their oath to the Constitution just because someone powerful barks an order.

If the reports about Pete Hegseth are accurate, then this is precisely the kind of illegal order our troops should refuse.

If we want to be the “good guys” again — or maybe for the first time — we have to prove it. Not with slogans. Not with flag pins. But with the courage to say:

Killing survivors is wrong. Ordering it is a crime. And no one, no matter how high their office, is above the law.

A Heartfelt Goodbye: Honoring My Best Friend Rob

I’m trying to find the right words to honor my best friend, Rob. And honestly… I’m not sure words were ever big enough for him. We had the kind of friendship that was built on laughing way too hard at things no one else understood, finishing each other’s sentences, and driving our wives absolutely insane. Which — let’s be honest — was one of our greatest joys. It was messy, hilarious, loyal to the core, and built on the rule that no idea was ever too ridiculous for him to say, “What the hell, let’s give it a try.”

Two men dressed in vintage-style suits with hats, posing playfully in a kitchen decorated with wine bottles in the background.

And I tested that rule. Often.

Rob grew up in New Jersey, I grew up in New York, and somehow we didn’t meet until we were two grown men living in New Hampshire. Maybe it’s for the best — if we had met any earlier, half the Tri-State Area might’ve issued restraining orders. But from the moment we did meet, something clicked. He was the friend I didn’t even know I needed — the brother I got to choose.

He was also a big guy. Over six feet. Built like a former linebacker. And I’m… well… I’m 5’7” if I stand up straight and think confident thoughts.

Whenever I picked him up, I would very deliberately move the passenger seat all the way forward and crank it up as high as it would go so his head would stick halfway out the sunroof. Every single time, he’d shake his head, fold himself in half like a travel-size giant, and say, “Let’s go.” No annoyance. No complaint. Just Rob being Rob — rolling with the nonsense because that’s what friends do.

Two men sitting at a table in a restaurant, raising their glasses in a toast. One man is wearing a captain's hat, while the other is in a white hat. The setting has a cozy ambiance with mirrors and illuminated decor.

And that was our whole friendship: he’d sigh, shake his head… and then get in the car anyway.

Like the time I may have forgotten that my son needed to move back into his dorm in New Hampshire while I was in California. Who did I call? Rob. And because he was the best, he just said, “Yeah, sure,” as if people called him every day to move their children into their college dorm.

Or the time at dinner after his own vow renewal when someone congratulated us on being a “cute couple.” Rob just shrugged reached across and took my hand and said, “Well, it’s not the worst thing we’ve been accused of.”

A group of people smiling and chatting in a cozy indoor setting, with wooden interiors and festive decorations visible in the background.

Then there were the costumes.

One night, he and Becky came to pick us up for dinner and I was standing in the yard dressed as a T-Rex. Full costume. No explanation. Rob jumped out of the car and chased me around the yard. two 50+ year old men running around the front yard laughing. Becky, his wife, said, “Ok boys. time to go. What are you, 8?” Rob just rolled with it and said, “You riding like that, or are you changing?”

Another time they got home from vacation and found me in their front yard dressed as a lawn jockey. He didn’t even ask why. He just muttered, “I really need new friends,” and then laughed until he couldn’t breathe.

I have enough stories to fill a book — but maybe the mystery is better. Maybe the best way to honor him is knowing that everyone has their own version of Rob… and every version is warm, loyal, and filled with laughter.

He taught me how to fly fish. And I will never forgive him for that. He taught me how to relax and laugh at the world. And for that- I’ll always love him.

Last Saturday was his birthday. Our final texts say everything:
Me: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY! YOU ARE THE MOST AMAZING PERSON I KNOW.”
Rob: “Thanks! You must know a lot of dorks!”
Me: “Yeah — but you’re still the best of them.”
Rob: “Thanks? I love you.”
Me: “We deserve each other. Love you too”
Rob: “We must have been evil in a past life.”

That was us. Silly, loving, ridiculous in all the right ways.

Saying goodbye to him at the hospital was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. We had plans. So many plans. And losing him has left a hole I don’t know how to fill.

I will miss him more than words can describe. I will never laugh as hard as I laughed with him — and honestly, I don’t want to. That kind of laughter belongs to Rob.

A blue monster character embraces a green frog character, both wearing costumes. The setting appears cozy, with wooden backgrounds.

I love you, buddy. Thank you for being the friend I didn’t know I needed, the one who said “yes” to everything, the one who never hesitated to climb into a too-small car seat with his head sticking out the sunroof.

We must have been evil in a past life — because this life, with you in it, was pretty damn wonderful.

Op-Ed: Rebuttal to Gov. Ayotte: Billboards Don’t Fix Schools, Grow an Economy, or Build a Future

Gov. Kelly Ayotte’s press release about running ads in NYC inviting businesses to move to New Hampshire is posted at the end of this op-ed.

By Rep. DAVID PREECE, D-Manchester

Governor Kelly Ayotte wants the country to believe New Hampshire is thriving under her watch. But no billboard truck rolling through Manhattan—or Manchester, for that matter—can hide the simple truth: Ayotte has spent her term defunding the very foundations that make a state worth moving to in the first place.

Ayotte touts “economic opportunity,” yet she cut state support for public schools, forcing local property taxpayers to shoulder even more of the burden. New Hampshire homeowners—especially in cities like Manchester, Nashua, and Rochester—are already paying some of the highest property taxes in the nation. Under Ayotte’s budgets, that pressure only worsens. A state that refuses to adequately fund its own children’s education doesn’t become a magnet for innovation; it becomes a cautionary tale.

She boasts about “freedom” while presiding over some of the lowest investments in culture and the arts in the country—slashing grants that drive tourism, downtown revitalization, and the creative industries that power modern economies. Arts and culture are not luxuries; they are economic engines. Ayotte cut them anyway.

As for economic development, New Hampshire has fallen behind its neighbors because Ayotte dismantled programs that help small businesses expand, attract workforce talent, and modernize infrastructure. Instead, she pours her energy into political theater—billboard stunts that insult entire cities but do nothing to address New Hampshire’s real challenges: sky-high housing costs, a shrinking workforce, unaffordable child care, and gridlocked transportation systems.

Calling New York City “communist” from the comfort of a billboard is easy. Fixing New Hampshire’s housing crisis is hard.
Mocking another state’s mayor is easy. Building a 21st-century economy takes work.

Ayotte chooses the former every time.

While she rents flashy trucks in Manhattan, Granite Staters struggle with rising energy costs that are among the highest in the country. Families brace for another year of inadequate school funding—despite court rulings declaring our current system unconstitutional. Workers leave the state because child care is either unavailable or unaffordable. Businesses can’t expand because employees have nowhere to live.

If Ayotte actually cared about economic opportunity, she would stop strangling public services and start investing in them. She’d fund the arts instead of gutting them. She’d strengthen public education instead of undermining it. She’d support small businesses by backing real, structural economic development—not gimmicks designed to score Fox News airtime.

And if she really cared about Granite Staters, she would stand up to the reckless tariffs imposed by her ally Donald Trump—tariffs that are actively driving up costs for New Hampshire manufacturers, farmers, and small businesses.

But she won’t. Because Ayotte’s politics are performative, not productive.
She governs by spectacle, not substance.

New Hampshire doesn’t need a governor obsessed with billboards.
We need a leader willing to fund our schools, invest in our communities, and build long-term prosperity—not tear it down for national political points.

Kelly Ayotte may think New Hampshire is her prop.
But Granite Staters deserve more than a prop governor.

Rep. David Preece

Below is Gov. Kelly Ayotte’s press release


Announcing the campaign, Governor Ayotte said, “My message to business owners in New York City is this: Come to New Hampshire. We’ll help your business make the switch, and you’ll keep more of your hard-earned money!”
Ayotte campaign spokesman John Corbett added, “New York can experiment with socialism — New Hampshire will stick with lower taxes and more freedom with Governor Ayotte in the corner office. Anyone seeking freedom from Mamdani’s disastrous policies is welcome to join us in the Granite State.”
Under Governor Ayotte’s leadership, New Hampshire is the #1 state in the nation for economic opportunity, taxpayer return on investment, child wellbeing, and public safety, and has been recognized as the most competitive tax structure in the Northeast.
The following ads are running in New York City today: