No matter what or who you worship, no matter if you do not worship, (but my liberal leanings do draw the line at Satanists) I wish you the happiest of days. 

If your family gathers at this time of the year, I wish you no wars with siblings. 

If your household is cooking this year, I hope the visitors will wash up afterward.

 If there's a ball game on and dishes to be done, I hope with all my heart that it's not just the women in the kitchen nor the men in the living room but a bit more a gender mix. 

And if there must be alcohol, I do sincerely hope for the sanity of the women, that the men do not bawl from the living room, Hey!  Bring me a beer! but rather stand, walk to the kitchen, and get their own.

I wish you the joy of the new year, faced with fortitude, work ethic, faith in human resilience and a commitment to do and be our best this year.  I hope that each and every one of us face this new year, and each other, with hearts true and strong in acceptance of one another and in a new resolve to respect a bit more those who are different from us.  Whether their difference is marked in skin color, native language, faith, lack of faith, disdain for faith, disability, disadvantage or loss of all hope, I do so hope that we as a nation more diverse in its population than any other nation in the world, will come at last to a true respect.

What?  No bashing on boards?  No all caps accusations of mental inadequacy pointed at that blithering fool who has the temerity to disagree with you?  No bashing, period?  No hate?  Just simple acceptance?

YES!  That is what I hope will somehow magically occur on January 1, 2018, all across the nation.

You will think me a fool and a dreamer.  I am neither.  I am a believer in the incredibly vast reservoir of strength that is humanity.  I am a believer in a better way for America.  And that isn't going to happen from the White House or the Governor's office.  It's going to happen to you and me.  We are going to remember to be polite.  We are going to remember to be open, and honest, and warm.  We are going to remember what it means to be an American again.

We have to.  We are going to fall apart and lose our cohesiveness as a society that stands together if we don't start shuffling our feet in the direction of our own salvation.

I met a woman who told me that the Atheists' sign offended her and though it was not right to tear it down, he should not have put it up, essentially peeing on her holiday!  I suggested that her creche might affect him exactly the same way and pee on his belief system.  To her credit, she said no more.  But I wonder who she's telling her tales to now.  Like the atheists bully me!  Atheists are violent men and women who want to silence the voice of Christianity!

Frankly, I don't think ten thousand flames could even singe the massive, pervasive message of Christianity.  Be like us or go to hell.

Atheists don't believe in hell, by the way.  I'm not sure where they believe they go, but it surely is not to the Christian Hell.  So it's silly to tell them to go to hell.  It's out of context.  It has no point of reference. 

You'll think I'm redundant, but

Where the hell did America go?

It was here. I remember.  I remember America. It was where the right to free speech was practically sacred. It was where a free press was simply a given. It was where children of all races played together at the city park and no one on the park grounds had evil words to pass to other children. Parents did not hustle their children away from those ... other children. And if gays and lesbians were discussed at all, it was with a half-embarrassed but tolerant voice that said, well, I don't really know any, but I can't see what harm they could do.

Yes, there were white picket fences. Families went to church on Sunday and had brunch when they got home. It was the only day Dad put on a suit, and though Mom wore dresses every day, her church dress was much better. The kids changed into play clothes and after a much welcomed late breakfast (called brunch by adults) went outside to play albeit not as loudly or roughly as they had played during the week.

Though it was on one of those Sundays that I heard an argument that was getting old. My oldest brother wanted to marry the daughter of one my father's brothers. My mother said absolutely not; she's your first cousin and it's not done. Even then, into the morass of emotion, I thought, but he's my father's stepson. They're not related at all, so he's not related to his uncle's daughter because he's not related to his uncle so why can't he marry her? I wonder about these things. Is that what changed him? Or was it something dark and evil that changed him?

But I digress. I miss my America. I even miss the later America, the one I raised my son in. We didn't go to church on Sundays or have brunches. We usually camped when the weather allowed, or slept in and did not much on weekends, gearing up for the weeks ahead.

But that wasn't bad. His "big brother" was actually two gay men who taught my son much and more about what matters in a man -- and no, it isn't size. What matters is love, compassion, respect, and patience. I am quite proud to say that my son possesses all of those, but I hold no claim to them. His gay big brothers did that and dispensed with a boatload of male baggage in the process.

But do you see? Big Brothers/Big Sisters made that match and my son saw nothing strange in it. Nor did I. He had male influence and that mattered to me.

He also had a best friend about whom he talked often. Months after I first heard about his new friend, I said, "There I was, waiting for my final accounting grade, and there she was, your friend's mother. Why didn't you ever tell me that your best friend is a girl and black? He looked at me blankly and said, "What possible difference could that have ever made?"

I daresay I swagger when I think about that. Because I did do that part. I rejected utterly the message of hate and racism that my mother and brothers shoved at him and reminded him regularly that he is no better or worse than any other human being in existence. I guess he heard me.

It was a quieter world then. Gay couples were not beaten to death in the streets. Demonstrators for peace were not run down by Nazi's driving pick-up trucks. Eight-year-old boys were not being hung for the crime of being bi-racial.

America was great. In the days before Donald Trump, America was great. Now it is consumed in hatred, violence, racism, misogyny, and violence. I thought we had outgrown those. I thought we knew better. But then, I didn't know Donald Trump. He is the living, breathing poster child for hate. He has no place in the White House, not even picking up trash off the lawns. Impeach hi9m. Arrest him. Do something. Get that monster out of the White House.