Patriotism Belongs to All of Us

For too long, Democrats, independents, democratic socialists, and anyone who believes in an inclusive America have surrendered one of the most powerful words in our language: patriotism.

It’s time to take it back.

Somewhere along the way, a political movement convinced millions of Americans that waving the flag, wearing red, white, and blue, and proclaiming love of country belonged exclusively to one side of the political spectrum. It doesn’t. It never did.

I refuse to surrender the American flag to a movement that too often uses it as a prop rather than a promise.

Because when I look at that flag, I don’t see one man. I don’t see one political party. I don’t see one religion or one race or one ideology.

I see the first three words of our Constitution:

We the People.

Not “We the Republicans.”

Not “We the Democrats.”

Not “We the MAGA faithful.”

We the People.

That simple phrase is perhaps the most radical democratic idea ever written. It says that this nation belongs to all of us, not just those who agree with whoever occupies the White House.

Real patriotism isn’t measured by how loudly you chant “USA.”

It’s measured by whether you believe every American deserves the same rights, the same opportunities, and the same dignity.

That is why I reject the idea that progressive values are somehow “un-American.”

Public education? That’s patriotism. An educated citizenry is the backbone of a democracy.

Scientific research? Patriotism. America led the world because we invested in knowledge.

Protecting our national parks? Patriotism. We preserve what previous generations entrusted to us.

Supporting veterans after they return home? Patriotism.

Standing up for workers? Patriotism.

Protecting Social Security and Medicare? Patriotism.

Defending the right to vote? Patriotism.

Welcoming immigrants who believe in the American dream? Patriotism. Unless your family descends from Native Americans, your story began with someone who came here seeking something better.

Standing up for the rule of law—even when it is politically inconvenient? That is patriotism.

Supporting a free press that can challenge those in power? Patriotism.

Defending the Constitution rather than demanding loyalty to a single individual? That may be the highest form of patriotism there is.

By contrast, I struggle to understand how demanding unquestioning loyalty to one political leader can be described as patriotic.

Patriotism isn’t blind obedience.

It isn’t pretending elections only count when your side wins.

It isn’t attacking judges because they rule against you.

It isn’t dismissing the Constitution when it becomes inconvenient.

It isn’t threatening political opponents or journalists.

It certainly isn’t redefining loyalty to America as loyalty to one man.

A republic survives only when its citizens remain loyal to the principles that created it—not to personalities.

This country has never been perfect. It wasn’t perfect in 1776. It wasn’t perfect during the Civil War. It wasn’t perfect during Jim Crow. It wasn’t perfect when women couldn’t vote. It wasn’t perfect when LGBTQ Americans were denied equal rights.

But generation after generation, Americans expanded the promise of “We the People.”

That is the American story.

Not perfection.

Progress.

Not exclusion.

Expansion.

Not fear.

Hope.

As a city councilor, as a business owner, as a coach who has represented this country overseas, I’ve often been asked what makes America special.

It isn’t that we’re flawless.

It’s that we have always aspired to become better than we were yesterday.

That aspiration belongs to Lincoln.

To Roosevelt.

To Eisenhower.

To Kennedy.

To King.

To every soldier who defended our Constitution.

To every teacher who opens a classroom door.

To every volunteer who serves a meal.

To every citizen who votes.

Patriotism isn’t ownership.

It’s stewardship.

So here’s my challenge to everyone who shares progressive values.

Stop apologizing for loving your country.

Fly the flag.

Stand for the anthem if you choose.

Celebrate Independence Day.

Teach your children American history—all of it, the triumphs and the failures—because loving your country enough to tell the truth about it is more patriotic than pretending it has never made mistakes.

Do not let anyone tell you that compassion is weakness.

That inclusion is un-American.

That democracy is optional.

Or that patriotism belongs exclusively to one movement.

It doesn’t.

The American flag belongs to every citizen.

And every time I see it, I want to be reminded of those three extraordinary words that define who we are and who we are still striving to become:

We the People.

That flag should never stand for one man.

It should always stand for all of us.

Watergate vs. Today’s Political Climate

When Watergate Looks Cute

Yesterday I flew back from a work trip in Iceland.

One of the interesting things about traveling internationally is that people inevitably ask questions about America. They ask about our politics, our economy, our culture, and increasingly, Donald Trump. This wasn’t the first time I’ve found myself trying to explain the Trump administration to people overseas, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

The question is usually some variation of the same thing:

“How can Americans allow this to happen?”

It’s a fair question.

The uncomfortable answer is that many Americans aren’t allowing it. Millions of us have voted against it repeatedly. Millions more have protested it, written about it, organized against it, and warned about it. But our system was designed with checks and balances that require institutions to do their jobs.

Right now, Congress largely isn’t.

The founders envisioned Congress as a co-equal branch of government capable of checking presidential power. Instead, it has become increasingly polarized, increasingly dysfunctional, and increasingly unwilling to challenge presidents from its own party.

The growth of executive power didn’t start with Donald Trump. Every administration since Reagan has expanded the authority of the presidency in one way or another. Democrats did it. Republicans did it. Congress often stood by and watched.

Trump simply took that trend and put it on steroids. Like everything he does, he turned it up to 11.

On the flight home, I was looking for something to have on as background noise while finishing some work on my laptop. I settled on All the President’s Men, the classic film about the Watergate scandal.

Movie poster for 'All The President's Men' featuring two men in suits looking serious, with a background of newspaper text.

I hadn’t seen it in more than a decade. As the movie played, I found myself thinking something I never expected to think: Watergate almost looked cute.

Not because it wasn’t serious. It was. Nixon’s operatives infiltrated the Democratic Party, engaged in political espionage, and attempted to manipulate an election. The cover-up ultimately brought down a president.

At the time, Americans were horrified.

Republicans and Democrats alike eventually concluded that what Nixon had done was unacceptable. Members of his own party confronted him. The institutions worked. The rule of law prevailed.

Front page of The Washington Post from June 19, 1972, featuring headlines about the Watergate scandal, including 'GOP Security Aide Among 5 Arrested In Bugging Affair' and 'FBI Finds Nixon Aides Sabotaged Democrats'.

Now compare that to where we are today.

A sitting president lost an election and spent months spreading lies about voter fraud. Those lies culminated in a violent attack on the United States Capitol on January 6, 2021. A mob assaulted police officers, smashed windows, hunted elected officials, and attempted to stop the peaceful transfer of power that has defined American democracy for nearly 250 years.

A large crowd of protesters gathering outside a building, some holding flags, while smoke fills the air and police are present on the upper levels.
FILE PHOTO: Police release tear gas into a crowd of pro-Trump protesters during clashes at a rally to contest the certification of the 2020 U.S. presidential election results by the U.S. Congress, at the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, U.S, January 6, 2021. REUTERS/Shannon Stapleton/File Photo

Think about that for a moment.

Watergate involved burglars breaking into an office building. January 6 involved thousands of people attacking the Capitol itself!

Yet somehow, in today’s political environment, the latter is treated by many as a partisan disagreement rather than an assault on democracy.

Many participants were investigated, prosecuted, and convicted. Then Trump returned to office and pardoned them! That is INSANE! Not just because I do not agree with it. BUT A SITTING PRESIDENT WHO TALKED ABOUT LAND AND ORDER PARDONED PEOPLE WHO ASSAULTED POLICE OFFICERS. Now Trump and his allies have even discussed mechanisms to compensate participants for what they describe as unjust prosecutions.

You can’t justify that to your neighbor here. Can you imagine explaining that to someone in Iceland? How can the generation who lived through Watergate explain it to themselves?

The alarming reality is that the scandal that brought down Nixon would barely survive a single news cycle today. I find that terrifying.

The corruption isn’t just the actions themselves. It is the normalization of behavior that previous generations would have found unthinkable.

  • Conflicts of interest that would have triggered investigations are now shrugged off.
  • Attempts to pressure institutions are dismissed as politics.
  • Open attacks on judges, prosecutors, journalists, and civil servants have become routine.
  • The outrage has been exhausted.
  • The public has become numb.

That may be Trump’s greatest achievement—not convincing Americans that corruption is acceptable, but convincing many that it is inevitable.

I don’t believe that. I cannot accept that.

I still believe most Americans, regardless of party, want honest government. I still believe most Americans value the Constitution more than any politician. I still believe most Americans understand that loyalty to a country must always come before loyalty to a leader.

But belief isn’t enough.

The institutions that protect democracy only work when the people inside them have the courage to defend them.

Congress was designed to be one of those institutions.

Right now, it is failing that test. And until it finds the courage to act like a co-equal branch of government again, Americans will continue finding themselves overseas, trying to explain the unexplainable.

Trying to answer a question that becomes harder every day:

How did we get to the point where Watergate looks small?

More importantly, what are we going to do about it?

Congress must start acting like an independent branch of government again, not a cheering section for whichever party happens to hold power. Lawmakers of both parties need to remember that their oath is to the Constitution, not to a president, a party leader, or a political movement. Oversight is not optional. Accountability is not partisan. Defending democratic institutions is the job they were elected to do.

And for the rest of us, the responsibility is just as real.

We cannot afford to reward cowardice. We cannot keep sending politicians back to Washington who remain silent when principles are tested. Whether you are a Democrat, Republican, Independent, or something else entirely, demand more from the people who ask for your vote.

Vote for people with the backbone to tell their own side when it is wrong. Vote for people who will defend the rule of law even when it is politically inconvenient. Vote for people who put country before party and Constitution before career.

Because if enough Americans do that, then maybe someday the question people ask overseas will change.

Instead of asking how Americans allowed this to happen, they might ask how Americans found the courage to stop it.

The growing concentration of power in the presidency will not be solved by the White House alone—it requires Congress to step up and fulfill its constitutional responsibilities. This fall, voters have an opportunity to demand that change. If you are unhappy with the direction of the country, make your voice heard at the ballot box. As I travel, I find myself increasingly frustrated trying to explain the state of American politics. I remember when conversations about the United States centered on its innovation, opportunity, and democratic ideals. Today, too often, those discussions are overshadowed by concerns about political dysfunction, corruption, and a government that seems unable or unwilling to address the challenges facing the nation.

And – NO. I am not running for anything.

Smiling man in a blue blazer and white shirt seated, with a dark background.

America at 250

My work has me traveling to other countries quite frequently (I am actually writing this from Iceland). I am proud to be an American, but it has become harder and harder to explain where we are at.

I have never read a more brutally honest assessment of who we are and what we’ve become.

OLIVER KORNETZKE

250 years. Two hundred and fifty fucking years of the most powerful, most resourced, most theoretically capable nation in the history of human civilization and here is what we have to show for it.

Forty million people on food stamps, thirty million without health insurance, the highest maternal mortality rate in the developed world, the highest incarceration rate on earth, an opioid crisis that has killed over half a million people and counting, a housing market so broken that working people cannot afford to live in the cities they work in, an education system that buries young people in debt before they earn their first dollar, infrastructure that is literally collapsing, a life expectancy that is going backwards, a political system so thoroughly purchased by concentrated wealth that the laws it produces bear almost no relationship to what the public actually wants or needs, a working class that has not seen meaningful real wage growth in thirty years, a mental health crisis so severe we normalized it, a gun violence epidemic so routine we don’t even act when preschoolers are slaughtered, and a climate hurtling toward catastrophe while the people paid to address it collect checks from the industry causing it.

Two hundred and fifty years of that. And to celebrate, we built a wrestling arena on the White House lawn.

Not a hospital, or a school, or a housing development. Not a single fucking thing that addresses a single goddamn item on the list above. A wrestling arena. With cranes and pyrotechnics and a steel arch that probably cost more than the annual budget of three rural counties combined, erected in front of the building where Lincoln and Roosevelt and every president who ever tried to make any of this mean something once lived and worked and in some cases died trying.

Truthfully, this is not a departure from American values. This is the fullest possible expression of them. Because this is what we chose. Every single time the choice was presented.

We built a culture where a football coach makes forty times what a physics professor makes and then express genuine bewilderment at the outcomes. Where a reality television star becomes president and a school district cuts its art program in the same fiscal year. Where children know every statistic of every player on their favorite sport team and cannot locate their own country on a map. Where scientific consensus on vaccines, climate, evolution, and basic nutrition gets weighed against a Facebook post and the Facebook post wins at the dinner table. Where the school that wins the state championship gets a parade and the school that produces a Nobel laureate gets a budget cut.

We chose the bomber over the teacher. The tank over the clinic. The aircraft carrier over the water treatment plant. We spend more on military than the next ten countries combined, including our allies, while veterans sleep on the streets of the cities they came back to. We built the most expensive killing apparatus in human history and then told the nurse she made too much money. We sent young men to die in wars that made defense contractors rich and called it freedom and put a yellow ribbon magnet on the back of the car and called that support. We made the soldier and the police officer into sacred untouchable symbols of national identity and then cut their benefits, denied their PTSD claims, let them die waiting for VA appointments, and sent them back for third and fourth tours because it was cheaper than taking care of them when they came home. We worshipped the uniform and neglected the human inside it because the uniform is a symbol and symbols are cheaper than healthcare and housing and the therapy that would actually help. We built bases in a hundred and fifty countries and could not build enough affordable housing in fifty states. We funded a military budget that could have ended homelessness and medical debt and student debt several times over and we did it with bipartisan enthusiasm and called the people who questioned it unserious.

We chose entertainment over education so many times and for so long and at every available level of society that we forgot there was a distinction worth making. Spectacle over substance, performance over policy, the aesthetics of greatness in place of the actual thing, and the feeling of winning instead of asking what was being won and who was paying for it and what it would cost the people who came next.

Rome had bread and circuses. We Americans have food stamps and a wrestling ring outside the Oval Office.

250 years. This is what we built. This is what we chose. This is what we are celebrating. And the most perfectly, catastrophically, irreducibly American thing about all of it is that anyone pointing at this image and asking what it means will be called unpatriotic by people watching it on a television they bought on credit they cannot afford to pay back, rooting for a sport they cannot explain, in a country they cannot describe, celebrating a birthday they cannot contextualize, for a nation that has spent two and a half centuries confusing the noise it makes with the work it never did, all while claiming to be the greatest country on Earth.

Happy Birthday America! You have never looked more like yourself!

Open journal with handwritten text and drawing beside lit candle on rustic windowsill at night

The Worst Things Humans Have Done Were Done to Other Humans

The Worst Things Humans Have Done Were Done to Other Humans

I studied History as an undergraduate, with a concentration in post-war America rather than World War II. For a long time, I focused more on the systems that emerged after the war: the rise of suburbanization, the Cold War, labor shifts, media influence, corporate expansion, and the changing identity of the American middle class.

Recently, though, I started reading World War II diaries.

Some were written by Italian civilians trying to survive the collapse of their country. Some were written by American soldiers processing what they saw overseas. Others came from people who survived concentration camps and somehow found the strength to record experiences that most of us can barely comprehend.

What struck me was not simply the scale of suffering. History books already teach us numbers. Millions dead. Cities destroyed. Entire populations displaced.

What struck me was the intimacy of cruelty.

The worst acts in human history are not abstractions. They are humans harming other humans directly, personally, deliberately.

A guard deciding another person is no longer fully human.

A soldier learning to suppress empathy.

A bureaucracy organizing suffering with paperwork and schedules.

A crowd convincing itself that violence is justified because the victims are somehow different.

That pattern exists throughout history.

It existed in slavery.

It existed in genocides.

It existed in political purges.

It existed in colonial violence.

It existed in lynchings.

It exists today whenever people are taught to fear and hate one another before they truly know one another.

We often talk about history as though it belongs to the past. But history is not dead. History is a warning.

One of the most dangerous myths people believe is that atrocities are committed only by monsters. The reality is more uncomfortable. Many atrocities are carried out by ordinary people who become convinced that cruelty is acceptable, necessary, patriotic, profitable, or unavoidable.

That is why remembering matters.

Not to drown ourselves in guilt.

Not to endlessly relive suffering.

But to recognize how fragile civilization actually is.

The diaries I read repeatedly showed something else as well: people under enormous pressure searching for someone to blame. That instinct never disappeared after World War II. It simply changed form.

Today, many people are angry, exhausted, isolated, and financially strained. Instead of encouraging solidarity, powerful institutions often redirect frustration sideways. Workers are told their problems come from immigrants, neighbors, political opponents, different races, different religions, or people living in different regions.

Meanwhile, many of the people and institutions accumulating enormous wealth and influence remain largely insulated from the consequences of the systems they shape.

I want to be very clear: I am a capitalist.

I believe markets can create innovation, opportunity, efficiency, and prosperity. Human ambition can build incredible things. Free enterprise has improved countless lives.

But capitalism without limits becomes something else.

When profit becomes the only moral standard, people stop being citizens and become consumers. Workers become expendable. Communities become markets. Truth becomes advertising. Human dignity becomes secondary to quarterly earnings.

Healthy capitalism requires boundaries.

It requires labor protections.

It requires ethical regulation.

It requires accountability.

It requires remembering that an economy is supposed to serve human beings, not the other way around.

History shows what happens when systems become detached from human dignity. Sometimes the result is not immediate violence. Sometimes it is slow dehumanization: convincing people they are disposable, replaceable, or undeserving of empathy.

That dehumanization is the first step toward every historical horror.

And once people stop seeing each other as human, terrible things become possible.

The answer is not abandoning disagreement. People will always disagree politically, economically, culturally, and philosophically.

The answer is refusing to let disagreement erase humanity.

The person next door is probably not your enemy.

The struggling family in another town is probably not your enemy.

The worker trying to survive is probably not your enemy.

History repeatedly shows that ordinary people often have more in common with one another than they do with the powerful institutions profiting from division.

Reading those diaries reminded me that civilization depends on empathy more than ideology.

It depends on resisting the temptation to dehumanize.

It depends on recognizing manipulation when fear is used to turn people against each other.

Most importantly, it depends on remembering.

Because forgetting is dangerous.

The people who lived through humanity’s darkest periods were warning us.

We should listen.

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference. Because of indifference, one dies before one actually dies. To be in the window and watch people being sent to concentration camps or being attacked in the street and do nothing, that’s being dead.”
— Elie Wiesel, US News & World Report (27 October 1986)

Op-Ed: The ‘Final Solution’ Comment…and the Silence That Followed

By Rep. ANITA BURROUGHS

Recently, Rep. Travis Corcoran (R-Weare) made statewide news, but not in a good way.

He posted on X: We need a final solution for theater kids in politics,” in response to an invitation to a legislative karaoke night hosted by Rep. Jessica Grill, who is Jewish.

For those unfamiliar, the phrase “final solution” was used by Nazi leaders to describe their plan to commit genocide against European Jews.

That’s not a throwaway line. It’s not edgy humor. It’s a phrase with a very specific and horrific meaning.

Speaker Sherman Packard and Minority Leader Alexis Simpson both condemned Corcoran’s statement. But beyond that, there was silence where it mattered most.

There was no public statement from Governor Ayotte or Majority Leader Jason Osborne. No call for accountability. Just silence. And that silence speaks volumes.

This stands in sharp contrast to what happened in 2020. Then-Speaker Steve Shurtleff asked Rep. Richard Komi (D-Manchester) to resign over a social media comment widely viewed as dismissive of survivors of sexual violence. Komi stepped down.

Leadership acted then. Why not now?

Deputy House Speaker Steve Smith has said that meaningful action would require a majority of lawmakers to agree it’s warranted: We can condemn it, but there is nothing we can do about it.”

I disagree.

Republican leadership has tools…if they choose to use them. They could pressure Corcoran to resign or rally their caucus to support expulsion. Leader Osborne has shown, time and again, that he can deliver votes when he wants to.

Short of that, they could at least make clear that this kind of rhetoric has consequences, including the option of supporting a serious primary challenger.

And recent elections show that even “safe” districts aren’t immune to voter backlash. Bobbi Boudman’s victory in a traditionally Republican district (Wolfeboro, Tuftonboro and Ossipee) underscores that point.

So why does this matter?

I’ll answer that personally, as a Jewish member of the New Hampshire House.

My grandfather Max came to the United States alone at age 13 from what is now Poland, fleeing the early threats that would later become the Holocaust. He spoke no English. Years later, much of his family was murdered, some at Auschwitz and Dachau.

Max was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. We lived in the same two-family home, and I saw him every day growing up.

I never experienced antisemitism until I served in the New Hampshire State House.

Several years ago, two state representatives were brought before the Ethics Committee for posting antisemitic content. One sat across from me on the Commerce Committee. She never apologized and even suggested we should get together because we had so much in common.

No, thank you.

Neither representative faced any serious repercussion for their behavior.

Corcoran’s comment is not an isolated incident. It’s part of a broader pattern, of rhetoric and legislation that seeks to marginalize and demonize others.

And when leadership responds with silence, it sends a message.

Not just to those of us who are directly affected, but to everyone watching.

If there is no accountability from within the State House, then it must come from outside of it.

Vote out state representatives who believe they can act with impunity because they are protected by leadership or insulated by district lines.

Help your community recruit strong candidates from both sides of the aisle who reject the politics of hate and are willing to represent all their constituents, regardless of religion, race, or sexual orientation. And get out and volunteer to help get these candidates elected.  Newly elected representative Bobbi Boudman demonstrated that it can be done. 

Rep. Anita Burroughs
State Rep, Bartlett Carroll 2

The Hidden Costs of War: Understanding Personal Sacrifice

Yesterday I wrote When easy victory isn’t easy peace. Here is part 2

The Invisible Cost of War — Who Fights and Who Bears the Burden

When the topic of war comes up in coffee shops, in newsrooms, or on social media, there’s often an unspoken gap between the abstract decisions of policy and the lived realities of service and sacrifice.

We prize technological dominance — drones, precision weapons, unmanned platforms — because they keep our soldiers physically safer. That’s a humane impulse. Yet in doing so, we risk making war feel distant from the lives of most Americans — until it isn’t.

War from a Distance — But Who Faces the Consequences?

One of the most profound effects of America’s All-Volunteer Force is that the duty of war is no longer a shared burden. Instead of a broad cross-section of society feeling the cost of conflict, the military becomes its own community — disproportionately composed of people from smaller towns, rural areas, and families with a tradition of service. 

That dynamic creates a quiet but growing divide:

  • For many Americans, war feels like a distant policy choice.
  • For others, it’s a lived reality — something that shapes their family’s future, their town’s demographics, their community’s hopes and fears.

That’s not just a statistic — it’s a human story. It’s the parent writing letters home, the small-town baker waiting for a son’s return, the neighbor whose family has served generation after generation.

The Psychological Distance of Remote Warfare

We’ve become experts at minimizing danger to our own forces — deploying drones and long-range systems that keep Americans off the ground. But that very safety can make military action feel risk-free to the vast majority of the public. When decisions about war are made in secure rooms thousands of miles from the battlefield, the human weight of those decisions can feel abstract, impersonal, even sanitized.

Two military personnel operating multiple computer screens in a command center, focused on monitoring and controlling various systems.
Major Dusty, 9th Attack Squadron MQ-9 Reaper pilot, and TSgt Trevis, 49th Operations Group MQ-9 sensor operator (last names omitted due to operational security concerns) fly an MQ-9 Reaper training mission from a ground control station on Holloman Air Force Base, N.M., Oct. 3. The Reaper is a multi-functional aircraft that supports both reconnaissance and combat roles. Holloman trains all Air Force MQ-1 Predator and MQ-9 Reaper pilots. (U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Michael Shoemaker/Released)

That gap — between decision-maker and service member, between civilian majority and military minority — matters. It shapes how society perceives war, how politicians justify it, and how we, as a nation, understand sacrifice.

Re-Centering the Human Story

Let’s bring the narrative of war back to the people who live it:

  • The young recruit from a town with limited job prospects who saw service as a way forward.
  • The parent who wonders whether this deployment will take a child out of a wedding, a graduation, a town celebration.
  • The veteran who carries memories home that no amount of distance or technology could erase.

These are the real stories behind the headlines.

War should never feel like a video game.
It should never feel like an easy choice.
It should always, always feel like a last resort.

Because it changes people — not just places on a map — but hearts, families, communities, futures.

Revitalizing Libraries: A Community Investment

The Magic of Public Libraries

There is something quietly miraculous about a public library. It is a place of possibility, of openness, of hope—a house of doors that swing wide for everyone, not just those who can afford them. A public library invites you in simply because you are curious. Because you want to learn. Because you want to borrow a book, use the computer, attend a talk, or just sit and think.

In an era of paywalls, subscription models, algorithmic gate-keeping, and constant commercial pressure, public libraries remain one of the last bastions of true free access—to knowledge and to community.

When I walk into a library, I think of all those footsteps that have gone before me: children discovering wonder; teens finding a novel; elders paging through newspapers; job-seekers crafting new futures; immigrants learning English; families sharing story time; self-taught learners picking up a new skill.

The architecture matters—the wood shelves, the reading tables, the soft light, the hush punctuated by quiet laughter. But more than the architecture, it’s the ethos: that knowledge is a public good, not a private commodity.

Why Libraries Matter

• Access doesn’t depend on wealth. Knowledge, ideas, and technology are shared freely.

• Libraries are the living rooms of our cities—neutral ground where everyone belongs.

• From card catalogs to digital databases, libraries evolve to meet the times.

• A library sends a civic message: we believe your mind is worth investing in.

Dover Public Library

Right here in Dover, our library stands as a proud example of what a community can build together.

The Dover Public Library is in the midst of a $7.1 million renovation and expansion. The project includes an expanded children’s spaces, larger meeting rooms, better line of sight and new elevator and stairwells. Truly an investment in accessibility and shared opportunity.

Close-up of a metal beam showing the embossed name 'Carnegie', symbolizing the legacy of public libraries.

I recently toured the renovation site, and it is going to be historically accurate and absolutely beautiful. Just thinking about it gives me chills. Amid the scaffolding and sawdust, I saw a small but powerful symbol of the past—a Carnegie stamp embossed on one of the metal beams. A reminder that this place, built more than a century ago through the vision of a man and a town that shared a belief that knowledge should be free, carries that legacy forward.

Interior view of a library renovation site showing a stone pillar and brick wall, with construction materials and tools in the background.

This renovation isn’t just about bricks and mortar. It’s about vision—the belief that our capacity for learning, for civic life, for shared good, is still worth building for.

Blueprint for the Dover Public Library expansion project, showing site layout and drawings.

A Legacy of Giving: Andrew Carnegie’s Gift

Between 1886 and 1919, Andrew Carnegie funded 1,679 public libraries in the United States, and more than 2,500 worldwide.

Whatever one thinks of his industrial empire, Carnegie recognized that true wealth was not what you owned—but what you gave back. His libraries stood as beacons in small towns and great cities alike, democratizing access to knowledge.

He believed that every person, given the chance, could rise.

A Question of Priorities

Today, we have billionaires of our own. Men and women who made (or inherited)  their futures. Imagine if even a fraction of the fortunes of Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos went into building the next generation of public libraries, into revitalizing civic learning, into connecting rural America to the digital world.

Instead of launching cars into space, what if we launched communities into opportunity?

An astronaut in a spacesuit is seated in a red convertible with the Earth visible in the background, showcasing a stunning view of the planet from space.

If Carnegie could build thousands of libraries from steel profits a century ago, why can’t today’s titans of industry fund the civic infrastructure of the 21st century—libraries, maker-spaces, literacy programs, and local journalism?

Isn’t it time we did better?

Reaching for the Stars

And perhaps that’s what libraries have always symbolized: the idea that human potential is boundless.

Every time we think we have measured our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and we’re reminded that that capacity may well be limitless.

This is a time for American heroes.

We will do what is hard.

We will achieve what is great.

This is a time for American heroes—and we reach for the stars.”

A library is, in its own way, a launchpad. Each book, each story, each conversation sends us further into the universe of ideas. And like all great launches, it begins right here on Earth—in towns like Dover, in rooms filled with shelves, light, and the quiet hum of curiosity.

Let us protect them, expand them, and celebrate them.

Because when we invest in libraries, we are investing in the heroes yet to come.

Rendering of the Dover Public Library showing a renovated and expanded exterior with brick and stone details, large windows, and trees in the foreground.

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.

Why History Matters: Learning from Europe’s Educational Approaches

As many of you know, I have lived and worked in Europe off and on for the last few years. When it comes to current educational standards and philosophy I feel we Arte moving in the wrong direction. As a gymnastics coach I tell my athletes that they do not start REALLY learning until they get out of their comfort zone. The same is true with HISTORY. While many states in the USA right now do not want to make any white student uncomfortable with our past, many countries in Europe take on their past head on .

​In Germany and Italy, the teaching of fascism, Nazism, and World War II is approached with a commitment to confronting historical truths, ensuring that students understand the complexities and atrocities of their past. This educational philosophy contrasts sharply with current trends in several U.S. states, where legislative measures are restricting discussions on racism, sexism, segregation, and the Civil War. Such limitations hinder students’ ability to engage critically with history, depriving them of essential knowledge and understanding.​

Educational Approaches in Germany and Italy

In Germany, the education system mandates comprehensive coverage of the Nazi era and the Holocaust. Students visit concentration camps, engage with survivor testimonies, and analyze the socio-political factors that led to the rise of Nazism. This immersive approach fosters a deep understanding of the consequences of totalitarianism and the importance of democratic values.​

Italy’s educational system also addresses its fascist past, though with some differences. Post-World War II, Italy underwent a less extensive de-fascistization process compared to Germany. However, contemporary Italian textbooks strive to present an objective analysis of Mussolini’s regime, its alliance with Nazi Germany, and the impact on Italian society. This includes discussions on the implementation of antisemitic laws in 1938 and Italy’s role during the war. ​RedditHolocaust Encyclopedia

The Consequences of Ignoring Difficult Histories

In contrast, numerous U.S. states have introduced legislation that restricts teaching about racism and related issues. As of early 2023, only California, Delaware, the District of Columbia, Hawaii, Massachusetts, Nevada, and Vermont have not attempted such bans.  These legislative actions often stem from misunderstandings about critical race theory (CRT), an academic framework that examines systemic racism within legal and social contexts. Opponents fear that CRT admonishes all white people for being oppressors while classifying all Black people as hopelessly oppressed victims, leading to bans in states like Tennessee and Idaho. ​World Population ReviewBrookings+5ABC News+5Statista+5Brookings

By limiting discussions on these critical aspects of American history, students are deprived of the opportunity to learn from past mistakes and to understand the roots and ramifications of social injustices. This educational censorship undermines the development of critical thinking skills and the ability to engage in informed civic discourse.​

IF YOU KNOW YOUR HISTORY THEN YOU WOULD KNOW WHERE YOU COMING FROM. Bob Marley

The Role of the Department of Education

The Department of Education played a crucial role in setting national educational standards and ensuring that curricula are comprehensive and inclusive. Abolishing this department will exacerbate the current trend of educational censorship by removing a centralized body that advocates for balanced and thorough historical education. Without federal oversight, states may have greater latitude to implement restrictive educational policies, further hindering students’ understanding of complex historical and social issues.​

The experiences of Germany and Italy demonstrate the importance of confronting and teaching difficult historical truths. By contrast, the current trajectory in parts of the United States toward restricting discussions on racism and other critical topics threatens to deprive students of essential knowledge and critical thinking skills. Maintaining robust educational standards through institutions like the Department of Education is vital to ensure that future generations are well-informed and capable of contributing thoughtfully to society. We must do better in embracing our full history, acknowledging its complexities, and learning from it to build a more just and equitable future.​

Recent Developments in Education Legislation

https://www.reachinghighernh.org/content-item/461/nh-state-board-of-education-adopts-controversial-minimum-standards-despite-sharp-public-opposition

Chron

AG Ken Paxton sues North Texas district for allegedly teaching critical race theory

8 days agoAxiosTexas AG sues Coppell ISD after conservative activist video claims district teaches critical race theory

7 days agoAxiosTexas Senate passes religious, anti-DEI education bills2 days ago

Why States Seceded From Union.

The other day, in my home state of New Hampshire, Nikki Haley fumbled a softball question on causes of the Civil War. She looked like a deer in the headlights for a few seconds as she tried to find the words.

What is most embarrassing about her answer is that she is the former governor of South Carolina — the first state to secede from the Union in 1860 . She should know her history. Instead she said at the event in Berlin, New Hampshire, that the catalysts were “basically how the government was going to run” and “freedoms and what people could and couldn’t do.”

In the VERY first paragraph of South Carolina‘s decoration of secession it states:

The people of the State of South Carolina, in Convention assembled, on the 26th day of April, A.D., 1852, declared that the frequent violations of the Constitution of the United States, by the Federal Government, and its encroachments upon the reserved rights of the States, fully justified this State in then withdrawing from the Federal Union; but in deference to the opinions and wishes of the other slaveholding States, she forbore at that time to exercise this right. Since that time, these encroachments have continued to increase, and further forbearance ceases to be a virtue.

In goes on to say:

The Constitution of the United States, in its fourth Article, provides as follows: “No person held to service or labor in one State, under the laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in consequence of any law or regulation therein, be discharged from such service or labor, but shall be delivered up, on claim of the party to whom such service or labor may be due.”

What the 4th article of the constitution says is that: All states will honor the laws of all other states. Section 2 A. Citizens of one state are treated equally and fairly like all citizens of another. B. If a person accused of a crime in one state flees to another, he/she will be returned to the state that person fled from. What had slaveholding states upset is that slaves who escaped to free States were not being returned and they viewed this as a theft of property. 

Other States which seceded

Georgia

The people of Georgia having dissolved their political connection with the Government of the United States of America, present to their confederates and the world the causes which have led to the separation. For the last ten years we have had numerous and serious causes of complaint against our non-slave-holding confederate States with reference to the subject of African slavery. They have endeavored to weaken our security, to disturb our domestic peace and tranquility, and persistently refused to comply with their express constitutional obligations to us in reference to that property, and by the use of their power in the Federal Government have striven to deprive us of an equal enjoyment of the common Territories of the Republic.

Mississippi

A Declaration of the Immediate Causes which Induce and Justify the Secession of the State of Mississippi from the Federal Union. 

In the momentous step which our State has taken of dissolving its connection with the government of which we so long formed a part, it is but just that we should declare the prominent reasons which have induced our course.

Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery– the greatest material interest of the world. Its labor supplies the product which constitutes by far the largest and most important portions of commerce of the earth.

Texas

Texas abandoned her separate national existence and consented to become one of the Confederated Union to promote her welfare, insure domestic tranquility and secure more substantially the blessings of peace and liberty to her people. She was received into the confederacy with her own constitution, under the guarantee of the federal constitution and the compact of annexation, that she should enjoy these blessings. She was received as a commonwealth holding, maintaining and protecting the institution known as negro slavery– the servitude of the African to the white race within her limits– a relation that had existed from the first settlement of her wilderness by the white race, and which her people intended should exist in all future time. Her institutions and geographical position established the strongest ties between her and other slave-holding States of the confederacy. Those ties have been strengthened by association. But what has been the course of the government of the United States, and of the people and authorities of the non-slave-holding States, since our connection with them?

Virginia

The people of Virginia, in their ratification of the Constitution of the United States of America, adopted by them in Convention on the twenty-fifth day of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and eighty-eight, having declared that the powers granted under the said Constitution were derived from the people of the United States, and might be resumed whensoever the same should be perverted to their injury and oppression; and the Federal Government, having perverted said powers, not only to the injury of the people of Virginia, but to the oppression of the Southern Slaveholding States.

The other confederate states Arkansas, Louisiana, Tennessee, Georgia, Florida, North Carolina did not make declarations but instead Ordinance of secession which were short paragraphs saying they were leaving the union.

So please, do not disrespect my intelligence and the memory of all those who died in that war.

IT

WAS

ABOUT

SLAVERY.