AMERICA 250 – Writers Alliance of Gainesville

by | Apr 13, 2026 | Challenges, Climate Collaboratory, Creative Artworks, Earth Charter


Celebrating America’s 250th Birthday

In March of 2026, for the national celebration of AMERICA 250, the Writers Alliance of Gainesville and the Climate Collaboratory asked the question, “What does it mean to bean American?” Nine people responded to the prompt. Their answers reflect their varied genealogies, backgrounds, and histories, as varied as Americans themselves. My great hope is that these essays will be treasured as snapshots of the American experience in 2026. There is precious little personal historical knowledge left, even from our recent past of the Bicentennial celebration. I hope that these essays will be archived and preserved for future Americans to remember.

Thank you to the members of the Writers Alliance of Gainesville for sharing their perspectives of life in America and what being an American means to them in 2026.

– Jenny Dearinger, Project Manager AMERICA 250


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Sue Blythe

What AMERICA 250 Means to Me

AMERICA 250 gives all of us in Alachua County and beyond an opportunity to explore how the founding words of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 have grown and matured in our 250-year history.  Today, we understand the interdependence of all life on Earth and the role of our human family in preserving the balance of nature. 

In November 2025, at the Alachua County Climate Festival, young people from the Star Center Theatre performed a 10-minute musical skit about Alachua County’s Climate Story.  With youthful energy and enthusiasm, they invited 180 elected officials, community organizers, and concerned citizens to help support the newly-approved Alachua County Climate Action Plan.

Way over in the corner, the Climate Collaboratory Pod of the Writers Alliance of Gainesville had a table telling some of “Alachua County’s Climate Story for AMERICA 250: 1776-2026 and Beyond.”  As people stopped by to look at the books, games, and posters on the table, Sue Blythe, Jenny Dearinger, and Barbara Bockman took turns answering questions.

What is our collaborative storytelling adventure about?

  • “Alachua County’s Climate Story for AMERICA 250” is told in different ways on two websites:
    • The fictional story, by Sue Blythe and a growing network of partners, appears on the Climate Collaboratory website.  Our story begins in the year 2050, looking back on the early days of the Earth Charter Century, when the world was beginning to feel the effects of global warming.  The climate was changing, and people changed with it.
    • The factual story is told on the Matheson Museum website, with a Call to Artists to submit creative works in the literary, visual, and performing arts.  The completed exhibit will be launched in July 2026 for the 250th Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

Who is in our story?

  • Real People
    • Throughout American history, real people have lived through moments of transition, carrying forward social and environmental movements.  We trace their stories on the Matheson History Museum exhibit.
    • In 2026, many people in Alachua County are helping to make a cleaner, greener future for generations to come.  For our museum exhibit, we collect videos to document who is doing what to support Alachua County’s Climate Action Plan.
      • In 2024, five members of the Writers Alliance of Gainesville selected 70 postcards from the Matheson History Museum Archive.  They sent them out to 200 members in a Call for Artists.  Thirteen people submitted stories, poems, and essays to help tell “Alachua County’s Bicentennial Climate Story (1824-2024 and Beyond).”  
      • In 2025 and 2026, authors at the Sunshine State Book Festival identified how their books addressed the United Nations Global Goals for 2030.
      • The Interfaith Climate Group hosted a monthly meeting to provide a spiritual foundation for the community-wide climate conversation in action that inspired “Alachua County’s Climate Story for AMERICA 250.”
      • The Star Center Youth call people of all ages to join them “on the Climate Caravan, with the Climate Action Plan!”  Watch our five-minute video:
  • Fictional Characters
    • Storybook characters explore moments in Alachua County history from 1776 to 2026 and Beyond.  Several authors from the Writers Alliance of Gainesville help to tell fictional stories for “Alachua County’s Climate Story for AMERICA 250.”
      • Barbara Bockman’s “Magic Carpet Gang” visits a storm in 1776, when George Washington crossed the Delaware in the Revolutionary War.  Severe storms happened back then, but not as frequently or as heavily as the ones we experience today.
      • Jenny Dearinger’s “Together We Are Fierce” team helps children to see themselves as changemakers.  What can we do together that we can’t do on our own?
      • Mallory O’Connor’s “Maddie” (aka Madison Ramsey from Mallory’s paranormal trilogy) explains “Why the World Needs Trees.”  They help to maintain the balance of nature, so we’d better be nice to them!

How can real people participate in the collaborative storytelling adventure?

  • The Climate Collaboratory website shares bits and pieces of the story, and invites you to join the Climate Caravan for AMERICA 250.  
  • The WAG Climate Collaboratory Pod will send occasional challenges and invitations.
  • You can take small climate actions in your home, school, or community.
  • You can amplify your impact by joining with other organizations that are helping to create a sustainable, just, and peaceful future.
  • You can engage others in the climate conversation in action, “On the Road to 2030, 2050, and Beyond.”
  • You can pass on this vision of a better future as expressed in the Earth Charter:
    • Let ours be a time remembered for the awakening of a new reverence for life, the firm resolve to achieve sustainability, the quickening of the struggle for justice and peace, and the joyful celebration of life.

Climate Collaboratory

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Barbara Bockman

What America Means to Me

America the beautiful—from sea to shining sea. When I think of America, the image from the map to the land forms in my mind. I mentally embrace the whole country, not leaving out Alaska and Hawaii, and now Puerto Rico. The physical aspect—the land—looms large in my thoughts of America.

 I love this assignment because I never had to write an essay like this in school, and it makes me feel like a kid—a schoolgirl, coming in sweaty from the playground with dirty knees, standing in line to get a drink of water from the hall fountain after half my classmates have already slurped up their fill. 

This brings me to thinking about one of the iconic aspects of America—free education for all its children. Think about the one-room frontier schoolhouse. The benches were crowded and uncomfortable, the wood stove kept only a circle not much bigger than three feet from itself warm, books had to be shared, and slates held very little information. Yet, those children were there! After doing their chores and walking perhaps a couple of miles. Most of them  wanted to be  there—to get their extensive eighth-grade education, even if they had to study at night by lantern. 

Another attribute that makes me a proud American is our democratic system. We chose to be a republic rather than continue as part of a monarachy. As such, all adult citizens have the right to cast a vote for their preferred candidate for office, the person who will represent them. That right, as well as education, has been hard for some people to exercise. Friends, neighbors, organizations work hard to see that everyone has access to the ballot. But (we are being reminded) democracy is a fragile thing. We must be ever vigilant to guard this precious system. 

America the Beautiful. Truer words were never spoken. I grew up in a rural community, surrounded by nature. But I didn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. Americans are bent on protecting this beautiful place, passing along to the next generations a land that is as wonderful as the one we inherited. To assure protection for wild places, we have initiated a system of National Parks. This continental, island, and off-shore system assures protection for wild animals and wild places. May we always be beautiful.

America is a welcoming place. The Statue of Liberty attests to this. We all came from somewhere else—even Native Americans. Do we have room for more people? Can we make room for more people in our systems? This is a question that at this time is debatable. But whether foreigners have the right to come here or not, it is unconscionable to treat people as less than human. Anyone who treats others this way should be ashamed and perhaps dealt with.

Even though America is a wonderful place, we are embroiled in a world-wide crisis, global climate change. Experts whom I trust say that the only way to stem global warming is to stop using fossil fuels. But the people with the power to stop drilling and refining oil will not act to halt these activities. And the lemmings march steadily toward the cliff.

There is time to correct our mistakes—if only we have the will. 

As a proud American, and one who loves her country, I must do my part to convince our leaders to act to reverse global warming.


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Mallory M. O’Connor

What Does It Mean To Be An American?

“Filled with descriptions of the beauty and grace of some of the United States’ greatest cities and areas, American River: Tributaries is a true American story.”

—The Book Review Directory

It is that question, “What does it mean to be an American,” that I wanted to answer when I wrote The American River Trilogy. The first book of the trilogy, American River: Tributaries, follows three California families as the descendants of Irish, Japanese, and Mexican immigrants embark on unique journeys to pursue their dreams. 

In Part 1 of the book, I introduce “The Ancestors.”

It was June of 1859 and Cormac Everette McPhalan paused at the top of the bluff and stood for a moment admiring the view. To the east he could see the peaks of the High Sierra that John Muir would later call the “Range of Light,” lonely granite spires capped even in summer with a mantle of snow. Cormac studied the mountains, his spirits, as always, lifted by their grandeur.

A hawk swept past, screaming its warning and his eyes followed it into the still dark canyon where the North Fork of the American River had carved a rock-strewn channel. Although he couldn’t see the river, he could hear its wild, cascading song, a husky roar fueled by snowmelt from the spring thaw. 

Cormac thought back about the past eleven years. He had left his home in County Tyrone, Ireland, in 1845, when the potato blight first struck, made his way to the port of Sligo, where he boarded a ship bound for Canada, one of 1.5 million Irish who left their homeland between 1845 and 1855.

In 1845, Irish Catholics, as well as Irish Protestants, were firmly established in towns and in the countryside along the St. Lawrence River Valley. Jobs were plentiful and Cormac went to work for a timber company. 

After a year, he made his way south into the U.S. and found employment at a textile mill in southern Maine. It was here that he became acquainted with Maude Cahill, a schoolteacher and daughter of a local businessman. He hired her to tutor him in reading and writing, and after six months his affection for her had grown considerably. Determined to win Maude’s hand, Cormac desperately needed to make a name for himself and to acquire resources appropriate for a potential suitor.

Then Cormac read about John Marshall’s discovery in a local newspaper. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He headed for California. 

He recalled a letter that he had written to Maude hoping that she would wait for him and not become discouraged as the days grew into months and the months into years. 

Dear Maude, he wrote, At last I’ve found our land. Seven hundred acres of the sweetest earth the Lord has ever made nestled in a valley between two rows of hills. To the south a bluff overlooks a river. The native people called it “The Long House River,” a place where the spirits were good.  And the Spanish named it Rio de los Americanos. Some of them had ranches along the river. But we call it the American River, and to me that am a proper name, for we’ve come here from every corner on God’s earth to find ourselves a home. A number are from Erin like myself. There’s quite a few that come from Italy. There’s even settlers here from Greece and Russia and some from China as well. And, I’m told, a gentleman of color from the West Indies owns a large tract of land along the river not ten miles distant. I think we are the tributaries of a great stream of humanity, and here among these golden hills we’ve come together to make a grand new confluence. For the first time I think I understand what it means to be an American. 

Maude darling, I know I’ve strained the very measure of your patience, Maude, these past two years. But please wait for me, my dearest and I’m certain that our prayers will be answered.

And answered they were. Unlike so many of his miner friends, Cormac’s diligent search was rewarded. He was able to buy land and bring Maude to California where he built their future brick by adobe brick from the red clay and the river sand and the wild oat straw that grew on the surrounding hills. Now, eleven years later, Cormac stood looking down at what he, with God’s help, had created.

 The sprawling adobe house had started as a one-room shed, but as his family grew he had added a second floor and two wings surrounding a spacious courtyard. There was a new stone barn and a wooden packing shed where the fruit from the orchard was processed for shipment. The two hundred acres of pear trees that he had planted were finally in full production and were his biggest cash crop, bringing in enough to pay the taxes, buy a few head of cattle, and make improvements to the property. 

Also under construction was a modest wooden cabin set apart from the other buildings. He had decided he could finally afford to hire a foreman to help oversee the daily operations of the ranch.

A smile played over his lips as he gazed with pride and satisfaction on what God and hard work had given him: seven hundred acres of productive land, a gracious home, a wonderful wife, two fine, healthy children and a third one on the way. The ranch had sheltered his family for over a decade, and it would shelter his children and his children’s children into a golden future anchored in the land and protected by the strength and bounty of a special place—a place called Mockingbird.

***   

Jenny Dearinger

An Unwavering Belief in the American Experiment

I’ve got a little of almost every nationality from every continent in me. I am a product of North American Indian, English/Irish/Scottish, European, Russian, and Asian. I probably have a little North African and Middle Eastern thrown into my ancestry if you look back far enough in my genealogical lineage. I am the very best example of what it means to be an American.

What do I mean by that? America is a mixed up, mashed up amalgamation of people from all over the globe. We don’t have a national language, and we don’t have a national religion. Almost everybody in America is a different color, shape and size. To look an at “American” is to look at someone whose ancestors came from somewhere else. 

So, what holds America together? What’s the “glue”? I think there are three basic philosophies that pull this tousled lot together: one, strength through heritage; two, the belief that human rights are inherent; and three, a sense of responsibility to ensure human rights around the world. 

First, Americans acknowledge their diversity, that if your family has been here for more than one generation, your lineage probably has one or more types of nationalities, races, or ethnicities in it. Very few of us are purebloods. Acknowledging our inherited differences is then a commonality. To take this philosophy one step further, Americans take pride in the fact that their ancestors mixed and mingled. By doing so, our ancestors have created the strongest, most resilient strain of human being on the planet.

Second is the philosophy that since we all come from different backgrounds, one type of person cannot be “better” than the rest. America is constantly striving to achieve this goal. To put it simply, we are all human. As such, we share inalienable rights, the rights we all want for ourselves and our children. Human rights. The rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. All Americans are guaranteed an equal chance at success for their futures. While your genetic code may not be the same as the next guy’s, in America, your human rights are protected under a complicated legal system. By acknowledging our shared humanity, America has become even more defined and united.  As America has grown and matured, it has had to acknowledge that mistakes have been made along the way to achieving a society where everybody is equal. I think America has a long way to go before achieving this philosophy, but everyday there are advances made.

Third, Americans feel a responsibility to ensure human rights are extended to everybody. Americans acknowledge that they have been afforded a special kind of luxury through the hard work of their ancestors who fought for their progenies’ freedoms. Americans want to spread their unique philosophies of democracy, equality, and justice around the world so that everyone can share in the “American Dream.”

If you want to understand what it is to be an American, just ask an American. Our answers may be worded differently but no matter the person’s color, religion, sexual orientation, ability or disability, sex, or ethnicity, political party, or any other characteristic, the person will tell you that being an American is about freedom; freedom of speech, freedom from tyranny, freedom from persecution, and above all freedom to be yourself.

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Jim Funk

The Keys to Democracy Are In Our Hands!

Smart phones are the keys to democracy in our hands! They unlock crucial elements of democracy: an informed citizenry that communicates with each other, politicians, government, institutions and the powerful. Smart phones offer knowledge on every issue, and directions to put democracy into action. But keys that unlock can also lock!

In the old days, baby boomers used phones just for communication. Mom might have called to remind you, ‘When you are through studying at the library, ask the librarian for the phonebook and look up and call Mr. Bob Rogers for a ride to lunch and then the movie. Talk to his neighbor who gets the paper and find the show times and get directions to the theatre. You know your dad likes to keep up with the news – so remember the newsreel.  Oh, BTW, Mr. Rogers neighbor has a nice daughter your age. You can ask her to the movie and buy popcorn if you have enough cash in your wallet. Oh, and remember to wipe your hands, no-one likes nervous sweaty palms!  Have fun!’

Today, it’s still a phone, but a smart and talented one. It’s also a phonebook, the library, the librarian, a call for a ride, the newspaper, movie, and movie reviews and showtimes. It’s a deluge of news, a talking map, your wallet, and even a quiver of cupid’s arrows! There’s no walk to next door, nor wiping of sweaty palms: the person you’re communicating with is an Instagram away. Life’s Swiss army knife is in our pockets or purse. It’s got tools: protection, calculators, food, cameras, screens, reference, TV, radio, magazines, navigation, travel, experts, scientists, and hundreds more! We’re never bored and, we can talk in any language to thousands of friends!

From algebra to zebras, it’s a necessary tool for life and professions. We hold our phones and they grip our lives!  Highly addictive, it’s like a slot machine tailored to temp, reward and deny our individual needs and desires! It offers and amazing world we can easily manipulate with touch and voice. The real world is far more difficult to understand and manipulate. It’s fast, scary, dangerous, and so boring too. We crave safety, security, 

but in a fast paced and divided world it is hard to find. Ah, but what refuge can we can discover in our phones! 

Our youth face the looming existential threat of climate change.  They live within the largest wealth gap in history. The wealthy, addicted to money and power, are self-centered and insatiable. Most developed countries have free healthcare and college education for all. The United States, the wealthiest nation in the world, offers neither. Feelings of compassion from the powerful are absent. Instead, they offer blame: America is the land of freedom and opportunity- anyone can make it if they try! (What’s wrong with you?)’

Housing is scarce and most middle income wealth is held by baby boomers. While AI is rapidly eliminating real world jobs, it is exponentially expanding the attraction and power of smart phones. With new tools, instant answers, and writing and creating for us, it seduces us with attractive fantasies that bend reality.  What’s true? It puts owners of media in control and able to smoothly manipulate us. It slows our curiosity and thinking, lessens our interdependence and communication with others, and dampens our ability to construct individual conclusions.AI encourages us to value a product more than the process of making it.  The process is what gives us meaning, understanding, self awareness, 

and even happiness. We need challenges to grow. 

Our youth, more addicted than boomers, are not totally capable of perceiving the big picture. Though phones open world wide access, it is like peeping through a keyhole.  While in a tech-neck hunch staring at their phones,  a beautiful world may surround them unseen. Passing faces never connect, not even seconds of shared experience- the seeds of unity and empathy that are the essentials of democracy. Addiction is isolating. On campus most students wear  matching headsets. They move like alien zombies passing each other with forward looking stares.  Each is responding to a constant broadcast of outside information that requires basic triage:elementary left brain logical thinking-safe/dangerous,  good/bad. They’re never bored. The word boredom carries a negative connotation, but it is the precious. It’s time to assess ourselves. ‘Who am I, what are my positions, motivations, interests, relationships and accomplishments. 

Where do I go from here?’ Quiet time is space where creative, objective right brain thinking makes connections, see the big picture and can come to conclusions  that lie beyond logical thinking. 

The world situation, rapid change, the fast flow of formations and isolation produces the chronic anxiety of feeling trapped. Like in a house on fire, we listen to the loudest repeated voice that uses buzz words that mean safety. We tag our own interests onto these words and expect quick relief. We ignore all else, even obvious logic to the point of cognitive dissonance- holding two or more ideas the contradict each other. We use basic logic and assume if one thing is true, things attached to it must also be true. Dangerous- we can vote against our own self-interest and endanger democracy.

The celebration of 250 years of American democracy awaits. In their phone world or real world our youth will not see it. Together we’ll see the coronation of dictatorship as democracy collapses beneath the throne. Save democracy?! Let’s try. No complaining about youth – just compassion, support, guidance, and encouragement. Faces in phones- interrupt them and talk. Decrease your phone use- enjoy the moment. Find your cause and show your love for democracy. Talk to those with different opinions- we have more in common than differences. Practice your gratitude- it’s a pillar of democracy and a tool for happiness. Thank you, God Bless America!

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Katherine Maxwell

American Human

We are born on Her soil 

or naturalized through document. 

The latter knows more trials 

but stays this sentiment.

Our being is well rooted 

where English ship was blown 

to Atlantic Coast well suited  

where seeds of us were sown. 

The centuries of task and turmoil 

turned up a virgin turf. 

The labor produced our Mother 

on a parchment of her birth. 

This document prevails today 

for all mankind to see 

Its preamble and assertions 

still beacon liberty. 

This sheath of independence 

and further thought foreseeing 

a needed pliability- 

the Constitution of her being 

Now two exquisite documents 

in excellent resolve 

exists upon the planet 

where other lands evolve 

Our Mother stands among them 

one-third billion at her breast 

feeding us the liberty 

sustaining without rest. 

Her enemies still well abound 

trying her with vengeance 

which stays the matter of the earth 

to protect the vast allegiance 

Comes now for Her scrutiny 

a bold and lofty charter 

demanding all the plans for ‘how’ 

and ignorance is no barter 

For the coming generations 

we need a Thomas Paine revival 

to codify some “common sense” 

in shaping earth’s survival.  

American is the human being 

born from Her history 

praying all unalienable rights 

stay in this galaxy. 

***   

Kathy Dobronyi

E PLURIBUS UNUM

E pluribus unum—out of many, one—a phrase coined in 1776 by Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson working on the Declaration of Independence. This document to King George III declared they were no longer Englishmen owing loyalty to a sovereign nation no longer considered their own. This proposed motto for the first Great Seal of the United States was another declaration showing that the thirteen British colonies could become thirteen states united. E pluribus unum remained the unofficial motto of the United States until 1956 when the U.S. Congress passed an act adopting In God We Trust as the official motto.

When did British colonial subjects begin to think of themselves as Americans and not Englishmen? When many men began to believe their British citizenship was denied representation in Parliament.

Americans have a long history of being one of many nationalities. The land of North America was settled by citizens of six nations—England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Holland, and Germany. Sweden set up a short-lived colony on the Delaware River that was taken over seventeen years later by the Dutch, and subsequently by the British. Thirteen British colonies were cobbled together independently from British, Swedish, and Dutch nations beginning in the seventeenth century. In that century, a number of British North American settlements began as proprietary colonies with grants awarded by the British king to individuals or small groups. This was one of three main types of colonies that had different governing bodies. Charter and proprietary colonies were self-governed under the aegis of a royal charter. Royal colonies were ruled directly by crown-appointed governors. Between 1624 and 1752, American colonies became royal colonies when the British Crown gradually revoked proprietary and charter grants to maximize economic control.

Even though all thirteen were British royal colonies by 1752, many diverse people settled in them. Life was hard and demanded hard workers to clear the vast tracts of dense forests. Many workers came involuntarily—Indentured servants and convicts from English jails whose crime was primarily indebtedness. Murderers and highway men were hung; debtors and petty crimes were incarcerated. Georgia was a penal colony settled by English debtors. Others who came were men, women, and children who sold themselves and their families for seven years as indentured servants.

Free men, women, and children, captured from the west coast of Africa, became chattel upon arrival in the New World where they were never considered Americans, as were the natives of tribes who had lived in the country for centuries. 

Many British colonies were settled by men and women who refused to compromise their passionately held religious convictions. They fled persecution in their native lands—Puritans and Pilgrims to the Massachusetts Bay Colony, Quakers to Pennsylvania, Catholics to Maryland, Jews to New Amsterdam, and Huguenots, French Protestants. Many who sought refuge were Pacifists—Mennonites, Amish, Moravians, and Baptists Brethren. Pennsylvania attracted German Protestants—Lutherans and Pietists. Beginning in the seventeenth century, Deists, atheists, and agnostics were persecuted as heretics who rejected the Trinity and divine inspiration of the Bible.

Refugees and immigrants have continued the story of the first North American colonists. They have come voluntarily seeking religious freedom, economic opportunity, and escape from political instability. These reasons have not changed for over two centuries. Just as many came in the beginning, staying to make their new country great, so do these new immigrants. It matters not their race, religion, or political beliefs. It matters that they love the country where they can contribute to and enjoy the opportunities and freedoms offered to Americans.

Americans are one of many composed of people from all nations, races, and beliefs, but they have all come here to make America their home. To deny them this is to deny what it means to be an American.

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Michelle Marcotte

Becoming an American – Then vs Now

Among the immoralities being perpetrated in the United States in 2026, one cuts close to my heart: the arrest and unwarranted arrest of immigrants while in the process of following the legal channels required of them for immigration. Through the legal immigration process, a hopeful immigrant is required to attend several meetings with immigration officials in government buildings and court houses, up to and including a citizenship swearing in ceremony.

The Department of Homeland Security has discovered collecting hopeful immigrants who have been required to show up for interviews in government buildings to be an easy shortcut to capture its daily allotment of immigrants for incarceration without due process.

The American vision of itself as a country following the rule of law, of human rights, of equality, of welcoming people into its melting pot, has been thrown out the window. “Give me your tired, your poor your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” should be scratched out and more truthfully replaced with “Go Home,” or “Whites Only,” like the signs over water fountains in the 1960s’.  

In 2009, I spent many hundreds of dollars and hours in American immigration procedures, waiting rooms, interview rooms and court houses. Forms on US government websites were out of date but accompanied by warnings that only up to date forms could be used. Photos, medical tests, lengthy forms (English only), original records, multiple forms of identification, the list seemed endless. Yes, the US must ensure only non-criminals enter as citizens, but at what cost? 

More importantly what is the cost to America’s image of its own morality and values when law-abiding immigrants are deliberately abused and incarcerated without due process? 

As an educated, English-speaking white woman from the, at-that-time allied country of Canada, having married an American government employee, I was aware I had it easy compared to everyone else I saw in the human parade that was, and is, the immigration waiting room. There were a hundred stories packed in every hour in every waiting room.

At the tiny reception window, a Black man wearing a green plaid shirt and speaking with a soft African voice pleaded to speak to a supervisor to appeal yesterday’s interview results. The staff repeatedly denied his pleas and refused to give the letter he had written to the supervisor. He was escorted out of the building in tears.

There was a Sri Lankan couple, the young woman wearing a hand-made pink dress, rested her elbow on her husband’s knee with a proprietary air. Her husband clasped his thick file folder to his chest while he stared at her thick hair. I imagined them in an arranged marriage and how delighted he would have been to have met this pleasantly plump, very short, cute gal whose swinging feet did not even touch the floor.

Scores of children waited more or less patiently in the room devoid of anything at all for them to do or even look at on the walls. People applying for a change in immigration status have to bring their children. Several large Hispanic families bounced babies and nervously risked missing their interview call by running the children down the two corridors and into another US immigration room to the only washroom. 

A Black woman wearing a navy-blue dress and matching coat brought her prides and joys to the Immigration interview, twin boys unhappy to be confined in a stroller.

A young deaf couple sat next to us, him with hands dancing sign language and knees bouncing a nervous rhythm until their calm interpreter arrived. 

There was the young Indian man, whose fingers ran again and again down the razor-sharp creases in his dress trousers, accompanied by a prosperous looking older gent, his employer. I imagined him as a software engineer and felt the weight of hope from his entire family in India with him in that room. 

Numerous times, people who had been called to the back interview rooms left, required to return later with more paperwork. They included the heavily pregnant Chinese woman who had returned after having walked the block or more to the nearest Kinko (in the July heat of Washington DC) because Immigration staff would not photocopy papers and there is no photocopy facility in the building.

Many couples entered the back room accompanied by lawyers, the lawyers easily identified by their confident attitude, the applicants by their nervousness. Many of those couples left the room later looking disheartened, staring at the floor.  

Can you stop for a moment and imagine the scenes now: the heartache, the fear, the chaos when armed, face-masked ICE agents rush into the waiting rooms, interview rooms and court houses, arresting people? These people were required by the government to be there, had paid huge government fees, had struggled to complete paperwork, photos, medical tests, taken a day off work, their kids out of school, only to be arrested, incarcerated and sometimes deported without the due process required in American laws. 

The immigration waiting room is a small part of the same scene taking place on the streets, in the homes, restaurants and even schools all over the United States. Children have been held hostage by ICE officers as a means of capturing their parents. 

I’m an American who is deeply concerned about the lawlessness, embarrassed about the downfall of American vision, angry about the apathy. It has been heartening to see thousands of American citizens protesting the immoral and illegal treatment of their family members and neighbors, But Homeland Security officers have beaten, arrested and even killed the protestors, encouraged by the Trump administration and cowards in Congress. 

That picture is the United States today. Ignoring abuse and murder, allowing it, doing nothing to stop it, is who many Americans, still imagining their country as law abiding, as a shining example of world leadership, have become in the 250th year of United States nationhood.  

***   

Debbie Miller

The Measure of a Life

Widening the Circle of Equality

What does it mean to be an American? For me, the answer begins not in history books, but in childhood. It begins with my brother, Ricky.

Ricky was born with Down syndrome in a time when the world did not know how to welcome children like him. In the 1960s, people used words that were harsh and dismissive. Expectations for his life were painfully limited. Many families were told to institutionalize their children. Some did. My family did not.

Ricky stayed with us. He was my brother, my responsibility, and often my greatest teacher.

I remember holding his hand when we walked together, his small fingers wrapped tightly around mine. I remember the stares, the whispers, and the quiet ways people let us know Ricky did not quite belong. My classmates called him a retard. Schools were uncertain about him, and opportunities were restricted. His world was smaller, not because of who he was, but because of how society saw him. The Declaration of Independence promised equality for all, yet equality did not seem to include my brother.

As a little girl, I did not have the language for prejudice, but I knew when Ricky was being left out.

I want to be clear. My family’s experience was not the same as the injustice endured by people of color, whose struggle for equality has been long and painful. But in our own way, we understood exclusion. We understood judgment. We understood what it felt like to live just outside the circle of acceptance.

Still, Ricky lived with joy and brought me, his sister, immense pride. 

Ricky did not measure life by achievement or status. He measured it by love. He trusted easily and forgave quickly. In a complicated world, he remained beautifully uncomplicated.

As I grew older, I became his protector. I spoke when he could not. I challenged systems that overlooked him. I fought for his dignity, his safety, and his place in the world. I did not think of this as advocacy at the time. I thought of it simply as loving and protecting my brother. 

Over the years, America began to change. Awareness grew and laws improved. The Americans with Disabilities Act affirmed what should have always been true, that disability does not diminish humanity. Yet laws alone cannot create justice. Justice lives in everyday choices and in how we treat one another.

When Ricky was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, I felt something painfully familiar — the quiet return of exclusion.

Despite decades of progress in disability acceptance, adults with Down syndrome were largely left out of Alzheimer’s clinical trials for many years, even though they face the highest risk of developing the disease. The very community that helped scientists understand the genetic link to Alzheimer’s was often denied access to the treatments being developed. While the world moved toward hope, many families remained on the margins.

Organizations such as the LuMind Research Down Syndrome Foundation are now working to change this by advocating for the inclusion of adults with Down syndrome in research and clinical trials. Progress is being made. But for my brother, and for many of his generation, it came too late. The silence, the waiting, and the lack of options became part of his journey.

This is where responsibility enters the story.

The Earth Charter speaks of our duty to care for one another, to promote dignity, nonviolence, and peace. It reminds us that we belong to one human family. Democracy is not only about rights. It is about how we live together.

Ricky taught me that dignity is not earned. It is inherent. Every person matters. Every voice has value. When we exclude the vulnerable, we weaken our community. When we include them, we strengthen it.

Sometimes I think about how much Ricky has shaped my understanding of the world. He never marched in protests, never read the Constitution, never spoke about democracy or human rights. Yet he lives the very principles those words try to describe. He meets people with kindness, accepts others without judgment, and moves through life with an open heart.

If democracy rests on the belief that every person matters, then it begins with how we see one another. If peace is something we hope to create, it begins in small acts of patience, inclusion, and care. And if we truly believe in equality, then we must make room for every voice, especially the quiet ones.

Ricky’s life reminds me that dignity is not something we grant. It is something we recognize.

The promise of America is still unfolding, one choice at a time. Not only in laws and documents, but in the way we live, the way we treat others, and the way we widen the circle of belonging.

We must not forget the words of the Declaration of Independence—We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that their Creator endows them with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 

For my brother, and for all those who have ever stood on the outside, I will keep widening the circle.

***

Penny Van Meir

American People

We the American people
A nation of immigrants
Embrace the Indigenous Tribes
Who held this sacred land
Asking for forgiveness
And to join their hands
In honor of this Republic
Built as a Democracy
We the American people
A nation of immigrant
Uphold all Ethnic people
Whose slavery helped build this land
Asking for forgiveness
And to join their hands
In a bid to fight injustice
And their right to equality
We the American People
A nation of immigrants
Today we commemorate
The flame of Liberty
As she greets each wave of refugees
PROCLAIMING “GIVE ME YOUR
TIRED, YOUR POOR,, YOUR
HUDDLED MASSES
Yearning to breathe free
We the American people
Forged the many into one
As a quilt of many people
In the dignity of everyone
United in our stand
In defense of our Democracy
Reaching out to join our hand
Yearning to breathe free!