Compassion Is Stronger Than Cruelty

The political atmosphere in this country has become dangerously toxic. Too many leaders, pundits, and influencers no longer work to bring people together—they work to keep us divided, angry, and afraid. Division has become a tool for holding onto power. When we are constantly told to fear one another and to treat “the other side” as an enemy, violence becomes inevitable.

The recent assassination of Charlie Kirk is a tragic and disturbing reminder of where this road leads. I disagree with nearly everything Charlie Kirk stood for and said, but disagreement is not dehumanization. His death should not be celebrated. Political violence has no place in our country.

In the aftermath, discussions have predictably become polarized. Some commentators emphasize the danger of right-wing violence, others deflect blame or minimize the pattern. As Howard Kurtz reported on Fox News, President Biden pushed back against suggestions that right-wing violence is to blame, underscoring how fraught and contested public reactions can be. The piece “Why blaming ‘the left’ is easier than deterring violence after Charlie Kirk’s murder” highlights how convenient narratives and political convenience often shape the conversation—yet they do little to actually deter violence or heal a divided nation.

Fear as a Weapon

When cruelty is directed at one group, it becomes easy for the rest of us to look away and feel grateful it is not aimed at us. That is exactly what those in power count on. They weaponize fear—fear of immigrants, fear of people with different skin colors, fear of other religions, fear of neighbors who vote differently.

This us-versus-them mentality blinds us to what our country could be. We are told that if we don’t agree 100% with whichever party is in charge, we are un-American, radical, or dangerous. That is not freedom. That is manipulation.

More That Unites Us

I have spent much of my life traveling—across states and countries, among many languages, religions, and cultures. What I know with certainty is this: people everywhere want the same basic things.

They want safe neighborhoods. They want to raise their families with dignity. They want meaningful work and the hope of a brighter future. These are not partisan goals. These are human goals.

When you open yourself to the richness of the world, you see clearly that compassion—not cruelty—strengthens a society.

Rejecting Violence, Choosing Unity

There is no need for political violence, and there is no excuse for those who instigate it. Violence, intimidation, and cruelty cannot build a future; they only destroy one.

We cannot be tricked into believing cruelty is strength. We cannot let fear divide us into warring camps. The truth is there is far more that unites us than divides us—and our leaders should remind us of that every day.

Compassion is not weakness. Compassion allows communities to thrive. If we choose compassion, we choose unity. If we reject violence, we choose hope.

The world is still a wonderful place. It’s time our politics reflected that.

References

  • Howard Kurtz, “President makes comments following Charlie Kirk murder as he rejects suggestions about right-wing violence,” Fox News.
  • “Why blaming ‘the left’ is easier than deterring violence after Charlie Kirk’s murder.”

Let’s make sure NH stands for science, safety, and community

Let’s make sure NH stands for science, safety, and community

Sept. 8 − To the Editor:

Florida’s decision to end vaccine mandates is a terrible mistake − and it is one New Hampshire should never consider repeating.

For most of human history, the average life expectancy was only 30 to 35 years. People lived on organic food, breathed clean air, and consumed no artificial additives. And yet—they still died young. As Neil deGrasse Tyson has explained, lifespans only increased when science got involved. Vaccines, antibiotics, and public health measures changed everything.

By rejecting this progress, Florida risks a tragic return of diseases once thought eradicated and a rise in preventable deaths. That is not freedom—that is recklessness.

Here in New Hampshire, we pride ourselves on common sense and responsibility to our neighbors. Vaccines are not just a personal choice; they are a social compact that protects the most vulnerable among us—children, seniors, and those with health conditions.

There will also be a huge economic toll from plants and factories initially temporarily shutting down because of the spread of diseases (like during covid) to businesses moving to locations where this will not be an issue. In my work, I spend a great deal of time in Europe, and I already hear of families canceling vacations to Florida and even the U.S. because of health concerns. Do we want New Hampshire associated with that same reputation?

Public health should never be a partisan issue. It is about protecting lives. Let’s make sure New Hampshire stands for science, safety, and community—not politics that put us all at risk.

Tony Retrosi

Dover

Dover’s Future: A Commitment to Progress

Staying the Course for Dover’s Future

When I first answered the call to serve on Dover’s City Council, it wasn’t for fanfare, recognition, or awards. It was—and continues to be—about getting things done. About making Dover a community where families want to live, where businesses want to grow, and where people feel proud to call home.

I have been a proud resident of Dover since the 1980s and have owned and operated Atlantic Gymnastics with two locations for more than 30 years. My roots here run deep, and my commitment to our city has only grown stronger. Over the past term, I’ve had the privilege of working alongside my colleagues, city staff, and the residents of Ward 3 to accomplish a great deal. We’ve made Dover safer, kept our budget responsible—successfully passing a budget under the tax cap—and started important initiatives that are already shaping the future of our city.

But much of our work is still ahead of us.

Infrastructure and Housing

We’ve begun critical infrastructure projects to modernize Dover’s roads, utilities, and public spaces. These are not abstract plans—they are investments that will directly improve daily life for residents. We’ve also laid the groundwork for housing initiatives to address one of Dover’s greatest challenges: providing opportunities for families, seniors, and young professionals to find affordable and sustainable places to live.

Athletic Fields and Community Resources

We’ve put in motion plans to expand and improve athletic facilities, including the sports complex at Dover High School. These spaces are about more than recreation—they foster community, teamwork, and provide vital opportunities for our young people to grow and thrive.

Work Left to Do

While I am proud of what we’ve accomplished, the reality is that we are only partway through this journey. Many projects require steady leadership, experience, and a clear understanding of both our progress and what remains. It’s not the time to change course or start over.

Why I Am Running for Reelection

I am running for reelection in Ward 3 because Dover deserves follow-through. We cannot afford to have half-finished projects or lose momentum on issues that directly impact our quality of life. My pledge is to continue the work we’ve started—responsibly, transparently, and with Dover’s long-term success always at the forefront.

Public service, to me, is not about personal ambition or political stepping stones. It’s about doing the hard work necessary to ensure Dover remains one of the best places in New Hampshire to live, work, and raise a family.

With your support, I will continue to provide steady leadership, community-focused decision-making, and the persistence needed to see these projects through. Ward 3 deserves consistency. Dover deserves progress. And together, we will get the job done.

Thank you for your trust and support.

— Tony Retrosi

Real Strength Is Community, Not Cruelty

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

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

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

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.

The Moral Imperative: Leaders and Accountability. Let’s See the Epstein Files.

Trump’s Wild Claims and Deflections

Trump’s recent rhetoric—blaming everyone from pharmaceutical companies to the deep state, and now claiming he’ll reduce drug prices by 1000%—isn’t just exaggerated. It’s mathematically and logically impossible. A 1000% reduction would mean you’re being paid to take medicine, which sounds more like a parody than a policy.

This kind of grandstanding isn’t new for him. When cornered or criticized, Trump often doubles down with wild promises, scapegoating, and blame. But now, as legal pressure mounts—from indictments to civil trials—he appears to be flailing, not leading.


The Epstein Connection: What Matters and What Doesn’t

Yes, Trump’s name appears in association with Jeffrey Epstein—he’s in flight logs, was photographed with Epstein, and spoke positively of him in the past. But here’s the nuance that must be acknowledged:

  • Being in the files or logs doesn’t automatically make someone guilty of a crime. Many powerful people, including politicians, academics, and celebrities, crossed paths with Epstein. That alone proves nothing.

However…

  • If any person—Trump or anyone else—is documented as having paid for or engaged in sex with minors, that crosses a bright, unforgivable line. That person must be investigated, charged, and prosecuted.

No exceptions. No excuses.

That’s not a political take. That’s a moral imperative. We cannot have anyone, let alone someone seeking or holding the highest office in the land, credibly implicated in crimes against children without full transparency and legal scrutiny.


What Kind of Leaders Do We Want?

This goes beyond Trump. If any leader—left, right, or center—is tied to Epstein’s abuse in a criminal way, the public has a right to know, and that person has no business in public life. Period.

The U.S. cannot move forward if it continues to look the other way when elite individuals are accused of the most heinous crimes. Whether it’s Trump, Clinton, Gates, or anyone else, the standard must be the same:

  • Were they involved in criminal acts?
  • Were they complicit in human trafficking?
  • Did they protect or fund this abuse?

If yes—they must go. No fanfare, no martyrdom. Just justice.


Final Thought

This isn’t about cancel culture. It’s about not allowing child abusers to walk among us with impunity because they have money, influence, or a loyal voter base.

It’s not just about Trump’s flailing. It’s about a system that too often protects the powerful. The Epstein files are a test—not just of our justice system, but of our collective moral backbone.

Will we look away? Or will we finally, fully demand the truth?

From Business to Council: My Journey in Dover

Since 1986, Dover has been my home. I’ve raised a family here, built a business here, and worked hard to serve this community on the City Council for the past two years. Today, I’m proud to announce that I’m running for re-election—because I believe in Dover, and I want to keep fighting for the people who make it such a special place to live and work.

Public service isn’t new to me—it’s simply an extension of what I’ve been doing my entire adult life. In 1994, my wife and I opened Atlantic Gymnastics with fewer than 100 students. Today, we serve over 1,500 students across two locations and employ a staff of 40. It’s been a journey of passion, perseverance, and growth. I’ve also been fortunate to build a reputation as a respected gymnastics coach on the world stage. But the most important lesson I’ve learned through all of it has nothing to do with winning competitions—it’s about showing up and doing the hard work, every single day. In business, in coaching, and in public service, that’s what it takes to make a difference.

On the City Council, I’ve brought that same work ethic. I’ve helped residents with both everyday concerns and larger issues like Dover’s budget. I’ve worked to make sure city decisions reflect the voices of our people—balancing affordability, economic growth, and the character of our community. I’ve fought for transparency, fairness, and smart investment. And while I haven’t won every fight, I’ve shown up for all of them—because that’s what Dover deserves.

Dover should be a place for all—a place where families can afford to live, where workers can thrive, and where seniors can stay. That’s the kind of city I want to continue building together.

This campaign is not about politics—it’s about action. It’s about service. It’s about continuing the work. I’m asking for your support, your ideas, and your vote to keep showing up, working hard, and fighting for Dover.