Here’s a blog version that keeps the frustration and the perspective of watching America from abroad, while sharpening the argument around the midterms and election trust.

News From Afar

Being on an extended work trip through Latin America and now Europe has given me a somewhat unique perspective on the American presidency and the state of our country.

Sometimes you see home a little more clearly when you’re standing somewhere else.

And right now, from over here, America looks strange.

Americans are dealing with rising prices. Inflation remains stubbornly above the Federal Reserve’s target, with tariffs and the war with Iran among the pressures being felt in the economy. (AP News⁠)

Families notice it at the grocery store. Businesses notice it when they order supplies. Travelers notice it. Everyone notices it.

Meanwhile, the President of the United States seems laser-focused on…other things.

His ballroom.

Renovating Washington.

Putting his name on things.

Gold trim and presidential seals.

And now, apparently, renaming Lake Ontario “Lake America.”

Yes. Really.

President Trump signed an executive order today directing the federal government to call Lake Ontario “Lake America.” Of course, Canada is under absolutely no obligation to call it that. (Reuters⁠)

And neither, frankly, is anyone else in normal conversation.

No one is going to call it that, Donald.

And while we’re talking about executive orders, can we talk about the way Trump signs them? Every signing ceremony ends the same way. He holds up the document with that enormous black-marker signature and displays it to the cameras like a kindergartener who has just finished his latest masterpiece. “Look what I made!” Very nice, Donald. Beautiful use of the Sharpie. We’ll put it right on the refrigerator next to the finger painting and the macaroni picture. The only difference is that when a five-year-old proudly shows you his artwork, it usually hasn’t just changed federal policy.

There is something almost comical about all of this—until you remember that there are some decidedly unfunny things happening at the same time.

The one I am watching most closely is the attack on mail-in voting.

Don’t be fooled into thinking this is simply about mail-in ballots.

It isn’t.

Trump’s executive order would significantly expand federal involvement in determining who receives mail ballots and how states administer them. The Postal Service has now begun implementing new requirements while states are challenging them in court, just weeks before voting begins in the midterm elections. (Reuters⁠)

And remember: Trump himself has voted by mail.

So I don’t believe the real objective is eliminating mail-in voting.

The objective is distrust.

Create doubt about the system.

Tell people repeatedly that elections are insecure.

Tell them voter rolls cannot be trusted.

Tell them mail ballots cannot be trusted.

Tell them election officials cannot be trusted.

Then, if November doesn’t go your way, the groundwork has already been laid.

“The election was stolen.”

We have seen this movie before.

What concerns me now is that this time Trump is not simply a candidate complaining about an election system from the outside. He is the sitting President of the United States, with the machinery of the federal government at his disposal.

That makes this different.

The Constitution gives states—and, in federal elections, Congress—central roles in setting election rules. That is precisely why Trump’s attempts to impose new national voting requirements through executive power have generated such significant constitutional challenges. (The White House⁠)

My greatest concern isn’t merely that Trump will complain that another election was “stolen.”

We’ve already lived through that.

My concern is what happens after he makes that claim.

What happens if the midterms go badly for Republicans?

What happens if control of Congress changes hands?

What happens if the President declares some results illegitimate?

What happens if federal agencies are pressured to intervene?

What happens if we reach a point where Americans aren’t arguing about who won an election, but whether the government will accept the results of one?

That is the line we cannot cross.

And here’s the uncomfortable perspective you get when you spend significant time outside the United States:

People are watching us.

I talk to people in Mexico, Italy and elsewhere in Europe. They read our news. They follow our elections. They ask questions about what is happening in Washington.

And sometimes I don’t have a very good answer.

For most of my life, Americans grew up hearing that the United States was the envy of the world.

The stable democracy.

The economic powerhouse.

The country with institutions strong enough to survive political disagreements.

The place where presidents come and go but the system endures.

We shouldn’t assume that reputation is permanent.

It isn’t.

From afar, some of what is happening in America doesn’t look powerful.

It looks petty.

A president feuding with Canada while renaming a shared Great Lake after America. A $400 million White House ballroom project caught up in litigation over presidential authority. Political fights over whose name gets carved into buildings. (Reuters⁠)

These are the things occupying our national conversation while Americans worry about the cost of living, housing, healthcare, education, infrastructure and their children’s future.

And while the basic machinery of our democracy is being questioned again.

The United States used to be the unquestioned envy of much of the world.

Today?

I’m sorry.

It isn’t.

That doesn’t mean America is finished.

Far from it.

But patriotism isn’t pretending everything your country does is wonderful. Patriotism is caring enough about your country to recognize when it is falling short of what it claims to be.

America has always been an unfinished project.

Every generation inherits it.

Every generation gets a chance to improve it—or damage it.

Right now, we need to decide which generation we are going to be.

Because the world is watching.

And more importantly, our children are watching.

We can do better.

We have to do better.

Warning. Tony Retrosi is a lot.

For an upcoming business trip I had to write a bio so that they could introduce me. This always makes me uncomfortable. I never know what to say. I do not want to brag. But I also do not want to be overly modest.

I put some prompts into Chat GPT and asked it to come up with a bio for me.

This is what it sent back. Not sure how accurate it is. Let me know what you think!

Warning: Tony Retrosi is a lot.

He will tell you he’s “taking it easy” while simultaneously running a business, coaching gymnastics on another continent, dealing with city government, writing something that will probably piss somebody off, learning Italian, planning his next trip, and wondering why everyone else seems stressed.

He has opinions. Many opinions. And unfortunately, he has usually spent enough time thinking about them that you can’t just dismiss him with a casual “Yeah, but…” Unless you have about 45 minutes available.

Do not casually ask him about gymnastics unless you genuinely want to know. You will accidentally unlock a 32-year lecture involving coaching philosophy, psychology, education, leadership, Italy, three former athletes, and a story from a training camp in 1997.

Likewise, never say, “Government should just run more like a business.” You have no idea what you’ve just started.

He travels at a pace normally associated with international fugitives. New Hampshire. Italy. Puerto Rico. Mexico. Iceland. Canada. Back to Italy. He will describe this as “a busy couple of weeks.”

He is fiercely loyal. This sounds wonderful—and mostly it is. But once Tony decides you are one of his people, good luck getting rid of him. Former gymnast? Friend? Family? Coach he met 20 years ago? You are now apparently enrolled in a lifetime support program you never applied for.

He will check on you. He will encourage you. He will give you advice you did not request. He will tell you when you’re full of shit. He will probably feed you. And if necessary, he will metaphorically—or perhaps literally—give you the promised kick in the ass.

He is sentimental but would prefer that nobody notice. He will make a joke precisely when things are getting emotional, because God forbid we all just sit there having feelings like normal people.

He believes friendship is a long-term contract. Geography is apparently irrelevant.

He also has an alarming tendency to collect homes, communities, gymnasts, friends and surrogate family members wherever he goes. Spend enough time with him and you may suddenly discover you have a place to stay in New Hampshire or Italy and several people you’ve never met have already heard about you.

He loves a good argument, but don’t confuse arguing with anger. He can disagree with you enthusiastically and still pour you a glass of wine five minutes later.

There is also a significant danger that he will convince you to do something. Travel somewhere. Coach differently. Speak up. Take a chance. Come to dinner. Get involved. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

His fundamental problem is that he actually gives a shit.

About his athletes.
About his friends.
About his family.
About his community.
About whether he’s leaving things a little better than he found them.

Which means he can occasionally be exhausting.

So consider yourself warned:

If you meet Tony Retrosi, keep your opinions defensible, your passport current, your wine glass nearby, and don’t casually tell him about a problem unless you’re prepared for him to actually try to help you solve it.

And whatever you do, do not tell him, “That’s just the way it’s always been done.”

You could lose the rest of your afternoon.

Street with houses, dry palm trees, water tanks, and signs warning about critical drought and water saving

American Citizens in Puerto Rico: The Fight for Basic Needs

Puerto Rico: We Need to Do Better

Street with houses, dry palm trees, water tanks, and signs warning about critical drought and water saving
People walk in a neighborhood showing signs about critical water shortage.

I am heading to Puerto Rico to work with gymnasts and coaches at a training camp. I have been fortunate to travel to Puerto Rico before, and I am looking forward to being back on the island, doing what I love—working with these coaches and athletes.

But this trip comes at a very different moment.

And I keep coming back to one simple thought:

Puerto Rico is in the middle of a severe drought. Water is being rationed, with some communities facing rotating periods of 48 hours without running water. The situation is serious enough that more than 180,000 people are affected by current rationing, and federal drought officials are warning that the dry conditions could continue into the fall.

Puerto Ricans are Americans.

They are U.S. citizens.

They deserve to be treated like it.

Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory. The people who live there are not somehow less American because they live on an island. Yet when disaster strikes—or when infrastructure fails, debt overwhelms the government, or drought threatens the water supply—we seem to find endless reasons why helping Puerto Rico has to be more complicated than helping Americans on the mainland.

That isn’t good enough.

This Isn’t Just About a Drought

The drought is real. We cannot blame the federal government for a lack of rain.

But the drought is exposing a much bigger problem.

Puerto Rico has spent years dealing with aging infrastructure, enormous financial challenges, and a complicated federal bureaucracy. The island’s water authority, PRASA, has reported that roughly 65% of the water it produces is lost through leaking pipes, overflows, and other problems before it reaches customers.

Think about that.

We are asking people to conserve water during a historic drought while the system itself is losing an enormous amount of the water it produces.

That is not simply a weather problem.

It is an infrastructure problem.

And it is a government problem.

A Financial Trap

After Puerto Rico’s financial crisis, Congress passed PROMESA in 2016 and created a Financial Oversight and Management Board with sweeping authority over Puerto Rico’s finances. The law was designed to restore fiscal responsibility and access to capital markets, but it also fundamentally changed the relationship between Puerto Rico’s elected government and the people overseeing its finances.

There is a legitimate argument for fiscal discipline. Governments have to live within their means. Debts have to be dealt with.

But there is something fundamentally wrong when a government that does not have the financial capacity to rebuild essential infrastructure is simultaneously constrained by a system that makes it extraordinarily difficult to get that infrastructure rebuilt.

It becomes a vicious circle.

You need money to rebuild.

You don’t have the money.

Federal funds are available, but accessing and spending them can involve complicated requirements and reimbursement processes.

Construction costs go up while projects wait.

And the longer you wait, the more expensive everything becomes.

The Government Accountability Office has documented problems with FEMA’s fixed-cost approach to Puerto Rico’s disaster-recovery projects, including the risk that rising construction costs can leave local governments facing significant funding gaps.

That isn’t a recipe for rebuilding.

It’s a recipe for delay.

We Can’t Keep Treating Puerto Rico as Somebody Else’s Problem

This is where I have a problem with the way we talk about Puerto Rico.

Too often, the conversation becomes a political argument about who is to blame.

Democrats blame Republicans.

Republicans blame Democrats.

Puerto Rico’s government blames Washington.

Washington blames Puerto Rico’s government.

The oversight board blames fiscal mismanagement.

Critics blame the oversight board.

And while everyone is arguing, people still don’t have reliable water.

Enough.

At some point, we have to stop looking for someone to blame and start looking for ways to fix the problem.

Because the people living without water don’t care which political party gets the credit.

They need the water turned back on.

What Would We Do If This Were New Hampshire?

I live in Dover, New Hampshire. Anyone who has driven through town sees all the infrastructure work going on. As a city councilor, my email and text messages are filled with legitimate complaints about parking, construction noise, and traffic flow associated with these projects.

They say, “Why is all this work going on at the same time?!”

The answer is simple: we deferred maintenance far too long.

If a city in New Hampshire suddenly lost access to basic water service, we wouldn’t tell the residents to be patient while Washington, the state government, the city government, and a financial oversight board argued over who was responsible.

We would mobilize.

We would find the money.

We would fix the pipes.

We would get people water.

And then we would figure out who screwed up.

Puerto Rico deserves that same sense of urgency.

Not because Puerto Rico is perfect.

It isn’t.

Not because every decision made by the Puerto Rican government has been correct.

It hasn’t.

And not because the federal government bears responsibility for every problem on the island.

It doesn’t.

But because three million-plus American citizens live there.

And basic infrastructure isn’t a luxury.

Clean water isn’t a political favor.

Reliable electricity isn’t a reward for good fiscal management.

They are necessities.

We Have to Break the Cycle

There are real policy questions that need to be addressed.

FEMA needs to make disaster-recovery funding more accessible and predictable, particularly for communities that simply cannot finance enormous projects while waiting years for reimbursement.

Federal officials and the oversight board need to recognize that fiscal responsibility cannot mean allowing essential infrastructure to deteriorate further.

And Congress needs to look honestly at whether the rules governing Puerto Rico actually help the island become financially sustainable—or whether some of those rules make recovery harder.

Most importantly, the federal government needs to treat Puerto Rico’s infrastructure needs with the urgency we would expect for an American community on the mainland.

That means water.

It means electricity.

It means roads, bridges, schools, and hospitals.

It means giving local governments the ability to actually use the resources that have been made available for rebuilding.

I Don’t Want to Arrive in Puerto Rico and Just Talk About the Problem

I am going to Puerto Rico to coach and teach.

I will be in a gym with young athletes who are working to become better gymnasts and aspire to make an Olympic team. I will be working with coaches who care deeply about their athletes and their communities.

That is what I want to focus on.

But I also don’t want to pretend that what happens outside the gym doesn’t matter.

A coach can teach a young person discipline, resilience, and confidence.

But there are limits to what resilience should be asked to overcome.

Nobody should have to be resilient enough to live without reliable water.

Nobody should have to be resilient enough to accept a failing electrical system as normal.

Nobody should have to be resilient enough to watch their community’s future disappear because bureaucracy and politics make rebuilding impossible.

Puerto Rico doesn’t need our pity.

It needs partnership.

It needs investment.

It needs competent government at every level.

And above all, it needs to be treated as what it is:

part of America.

We can argue about Puerto Rico’s ultimate political status. We can debate statehood, independence, or the current territorial relationship.

But we shouldn’t need to settle that argument before agreeing on something much more basic:

American citizens deserve clean water, reliable power, and the opportunity to build a future.

As I head to Puerto Rico, that is what I will be thinking about.

I am going there to work with athletes and coaches.

I hope I can also come home having learned more about the people of Puerto Rico, their resilience, and their determination to build something better.

Because they deserve better.

And frankly, we should be better.