Month: August 2025

Real Strength Is Community, Not Cruelty

On By TonyIn Belief, economy, Elections, HopeLeave a comment

The current state of the MAGA party is not about prosperity, or security, or even policy. It is about cruelty.

If you can be shown images of suffering—children in Gaza denied medical care, migrants detained by masked men, families deported without explanation—you are supposed to forget how far your own quality of life has slipped.

The State Department has halted “medical-humanitarian” visas for people from Gaza. If you see others denied life-saving care, you don’t focus on the millions of Americans who can’t afford health insurance. You forget about our broken healthcare system.

When masked men scoop people off the streets and deport them to who knows where, you don’t focus on the fact that millions of Americans are priced out of safe, affordable housing. You forget that in one of the richest countries on earth, we have children who go to bed hungry.

Donald Trump deploys the National Guard into American cities. Not because crime is surging—it isn’t. Crime rates are at historic lows. The point is to create fear. To remind you what could happen to you if you step out of line.

This isn’t about law and order. It’s not about national security. It’s about cruelty.

And cruelty is a distraction. If you’re focused on the pain of others, you’re not asking the real questions:

  • Why are wages stagnant while corporate profits soar?
  • Why does healthcare bankrupt American families?
  • Why do we have more empty homes than unhoused people?

The sign of a functioning government is a social safety net. A society where people do not live in fear. Where illness does not mean bankruptcy, where housing is a right, not a luxury, where safety is measured not by soldiers on a corner but by stability in people’s lives.

Cruelty is not strength. Cruelty is weakness disguised as power.

Here in Dover, on the Seacoast, we know what community looks like. We see it every day—in neighbors helping neighbors, in volunteers who staff our food pantries, in people who step up when someone stumbles. That is real strength.

The politics of cruelty only works if we accept it. We don’t have to. We can build a Dover, a Seacoast, and a New Hampshire that shows what compassion, fairness, and responsibility look like. That is our task, and it’s one worth doing.

From Fear to Courage: Time to Act Boldly

On By TonyIn Belief, History, HopeLeave a comment

We Used to Do Hard Things

by Tony Retrosi

I’ve never been more frustrated.

We live in a country of abundance.
A state of abundance.
A city with a relative wealth of resources.

We Used to Be Bold

We used to be a nation that did hard things.

We took bold steps. We made difficult choices.
In the 1960s, we pointed at the moon and said, “We’re going there.”
And we did.

An astronaut standing on the lunar surface, with detailed footprints in the moon dust.

Now?

We’re paralyzed.
By fear of change.
Fear of each other.
Fear of anything that looks different or makes us uncomfortable.

Too many politicians feed that fear—
Because it’s easier to scare us than to lead us.

We Have the Tools. So Why Not the Will?

What used to be science fiction is now fact.
We can build a better future.

We could already be leading the way in green energy.
We could already be shaping a world where peace is more profitable than war.

Instead:

  • We have more empty houses than unhoused people.
  • More food than we can eat—yet children still go to bed hungry.
  • Medical technology that can save lives—but insurers decide who lives and who doesn’t.
  • Masked agents detaining people in our streets simply because they are brown.

This Is Not a Resource Problem

This is a will problem.

When was the last time we did something truly great?

Not something performative.
Not a shiny press conference.
Not a temporary fix.

Something great.

Something that required:

  • Sacrifice
  • Vision
  • Unity

Something that made life better—not just for some, but for all.

That Was Generations Ago… Or Was It?

Was it landing on the moon?
Passing the Civil Rights Act?
Creating Social Security?
Building the interstate highway system?

Those were generations ago.

But that doesn’t mean we’ve stopped doing hard things.
You just have to look a little closer:

  • Scientists developed a global COVID-19 vaccine in record time.
  • Climate activists are fighting pipelines and planting forests.
  • Underpaid teachers are showing up for forgotten kids.
  • Young organizers are pushing for racial and gender justice.
  • Workers are unionizing despite corporate pushback.
  • Communities are creating mutual aid networks when institutions fail.

These are today’s moonshots.
They’re happening now.
And they matter.

So I’ll Ask You:

What’s your moonshot?
What sacrifice will you make?
What fear will you stop feeding?

Do Something That Matters

We can’t paint over rot and call it progress.
We can’t slap a slogan on a problem and pretend it’s solved.

We need courage.
We need imagination.
We need to stop waiting for permission to do the right thing.

It’s time to stop being afraid.
To stop being small.
To stop being silent when we should be loud.

Do something.
Something you’ll be proud of.

Not just a fresh coat of paint—
But a foundation rebuilt with purpose.

Be inspired.
Inspire others.

We used to do hard things.
We still can.
Let’s prove it.

A Question for Trump Supporters: The Jeopardy! Edition

On By TonyIn PoliticsLeave a comment

Answer:
That when you saw a man who had owned a fraudulent University, intent on scamming poor people, you thought, “Fine.”
(Source)

That when you saw a man who had made it his business practice to stiff his creditors, you said, “Okay.”
(Source)

That when you heard him proudly brag about his own history of sexual abuse, you said, “No problem.”
(Source)

That when he made up stories about Muslim-Americans cheering 9/11, you said, “Not an issue.”
(Source)

That when you saw him brag that he could shoot a man on Fifth Avenue and you wouldn’t care, you exclaimed, “He sure knows me.”
(Source)

That when he mocked a bleeding man on his marble floor, you said, “That’s cool!”
(Source)

That when he mocked the disabled, you thought it was the funniest thing you ever saw.
(Source)

That when he bragged he doesn’t read books, you said, “Well, who has time?”
(Source)

That when the Central Park Five were found innocent and compensated, and he still said they should be in prison, you said, “That makes sense.”
(Source)

That when he told his supporters to beat up protesters, you said, “Yes!”
(Source)

That when he had a protester thrown out into freezing cold without his coat, you said, “What a great guy!”
(Source)

That you watched the parade of white supremacists and Nazis he refused to denounce, and you said, “Thumbs up!”
(Source)

That he insulted our allies and cozied up to dictators, and you said, “That’s the way I want my President to be.”
(Source)

That he removed experts from government and replaced them with lobbyists and Fox News TV personalities, and you said, “What a genius!”
(Source)

That he profited off the presidency, overcharging even the Secret Service, and you said, “That’s smart!”
(Source)

That he said helping Puerto Rico was hard because it’s surrounded by water, and you said, “That makes sense.”
(Source)

That he praised Russia and North Korea while picking fights with Canada and New Zealand, and you said, “That’s statesmanship!”
(Source)

That he separated children from their families and locked them in cages, and you said, “Well, OK then.”
(Source)

That after witnessing all of this—every con, every cruelty, every corruption—you still wear that red hat and threaten anyone who disagrees, and say, “MAGA!”
(Source)

That when Trump claimed the Unabomber had his Uncle John as his professor and you thought, “Well, who hasn’t stretched the truth about a relative?”
(Source)

Question:
Why do you still support him?

Let’s be honest.
Is it ignorance?
Tribalism?
Fear?
Rage?
Are you so desperate to “own the libs” that you’ve sold your soul?

Because at some point, it’s not just about Trump anymore.
It’s about you.

Your Turn:
Leave a comment.
Tell me what I’m missing.
Tell me why, in spite of all of this, you’re still cheering him on.

I’m not asking to mock you. I’m asking because I genuinely want to understand.

Capturing the Essence of Summer: Gratitude and Reflection

On By TonyIn Belief, HopeLeave a comment

Originally posted on my personal blog, VACILANDO. I thought it was worth sharing here as well.

It’s only the second day of August, and already I feel it slipping away.

Summer in New England is a master of false promises. You wait all year for it—through sleet, through piles of snow on the sidewalks, through endless gray. You make plans. Big plans. Road trips to see friends you haven’t hugged in too long. Picnics by the ocean. Long weekends at the lake where time feels like it stretches a little. But somehow, none of it happens the way it did in your head.

You try to squeeze in a drive along the coast, only to be swallowed by traffic before you even reach the beach. A picnic? Maybe next weekend, if the weather holds and no one has a family thing. That lake weekend? Turns into one night—if you’re lucky—followed by a frantic Sunday scramble to beat the traffic home.

And yet, summer is the season we all romanticize.

As a kid, summer was freedom in its purest form. We rode our bikes until the sun went down—and even after. I was born on the 60’s and really grew up in the late 70’s and early 80’s Our parents had no clue where we were, and honestly, neither did we. We could’ve been in town, or two towns over, or, once or twice, in another state entirely. No phones, just friends and endless roads.

Some of my most formative summers were spent at gymnastics camp. That’s where I really learned how to coach—andwhere I learned a few other things I probably shouldn’t have. But most importantly, it’s where I met my wife. We became a couple at that camp. Everything we’ve built together—our family, our work, our life—it all traces back to those hot, muggy, joy-filled days.

I miss those people. I miss the camaraderie. I miss the carefree days and the questionable decisions at night. There was a freedom in those years that’s hard to replicate. Life wasn’t simpler—just more spontaneous.

And yet—I never fail to appreciate what I have now. I’m deeply grateful to live comfortably, especially in a time when so many people are struggling just to get by. That’s not something I take lightly. There’s peace in knowing that my family is safe, and our needs are met. That’s a kind of wealth I don’t ever want to take for granted.

But still—summer moves too fast.

As adults, the season is no longer endless. It’s scheduled. It’s booked. It’s full of obligations and logistics. Even beauty can feel rushed when it’s crammed between calendar appointments.

Sometimes a song will come on, and I’m instantly transported. The other day it was “Just Like Heaven” by The Cure, and suddenly I was seventeen again—sweaty, smiling, leaning against the wall of a dorm at camp, wondering what the night would bring. No responsibilities. No schedule. Just music, people, and the sense that anything could happen.

In those moments, I feel it all again—the joy, the freedom, the ache.

So next summer, I want to be more deliberate. I want to appreciate the scent of fresh-cut grass—the kind you first notice in spring, that smells like promises to be kept. I want to savor simple walks with my wife and our dog, when no boots or jackets are needed. I want to sit by a campfire under a clear sky, counting stars and spotting the occasional satellite. I want more boat rides. More dinners with our friends at the lake. More Waffle Sundays with my own maple syrup. I want to appreciate each moment as it comes—not in hindsight, not when it’s slipping away, but right then.

Summer is cruel. Not because it’s unkind—but because it always leaves too soon.

But the memories… those stay.

And right now, I’m sitting by the campfire at the lake. Solar lights glow on the dock, casting reflections across the boat. Strings of warm bulbs hang in the trees, giving the night a soft, golden hush. I hear laughter from across the water—other families, other friends, also trying to hold on to this fleeting season.

A cozy campfire burning in a stone fire pit surrounded by darkness, with glowing embers and flames reaching up toward the night sky.

And I’m lucky. Lucky to be here. Lucky to have a wonderful wife to share it all with.

This moment, right now… this one won’t slip away.

A serene lakeside scene at night, featuring a sandy shore, softly glowing string lights among trees, and a dock with blue reflections on the water.