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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
