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.