February 9, 2026

Dear Ravi,

I woke up this morning with a dark cloud hanging over my head. At first, I could not figure out why I was so distressed. I had attended a beautiful church service yesterday and had the opportunity to stop in the chapel and visit with you. Yesterday was a good day. Today, I felt nothing but despair. As I made a cup of coffee, it hit. Today is the 9th. It was the 9th of December 2022 when we first learned that you had cancer. That was the day our world slid sideways. My conscious self may not always remember significant dates, but my heart always will. Eventually, my mind catches up and my grief intensifies.

All in all, today was pretty good. I had coffee with two dear friends from church and got some publishing advice. I signed up for a writing workshop this spring. This is a full day of classes and the opportunity to pitch my manuscript to an agent. My friends who are more knowledgeable about the publishing process than I am all agree, the book is written, now I need an agent to go to bat for me. My driving ambition is to tell your story to a wider audience. My son, you are not forgotten. My cousin Charles tells me that the global prayer of his church this month is focused on children who have incurable diseases and that you are at the forefront of his mind.

Last week, another wonderful thing happened. Teacher Rosalind reached out to me with a picture of a sensory friendly mural that has been put up on your classroom wall in your memory. I know that mural will stand the test of time and bring much pleasure to upcoming students at Focus Beyond. Once again, you are not forgotten. We were going to do another grocery run to your school, but the social workers say that they have a very well stocked pantry right now and do not need immediate help. I will continue to reach out to them and let them know that we are only a text away and will do anything to help both Bridge View and Focus Beyond students and parents.

Ravi, I miss you terribly but rejoice in the knowledge that you are safe with Jesus. The metro area is a scary place to be right now. ICE is abusing and disappearing people right and left. Minorities, who are the backbone of our community are afraid to go to work or send their children to school. I have never seen anything like this before, and I hope I will never see anything like it again. We are aghast at the callousness and cruelty or ICE agents who are drunk with power. On the other hand, I have never been prouder to be a Minnesotan. We stand together, united. I saw a sign I really liked the other day. It said, “When you treat us like Russia, we fight like Ukraine.” I wish we did not have to fight, that we could all live in peace. We are 8 weeks into this siege, and it is very hard. It is hard on children, and it is hard on adults. Some days I am too scared to even leave the house and walk the dogs. The national news does not show what is really going on in Minnesota. Those of us on the inside must be the truth tellers. I will keep writing, keep wearing my red resistance hat, keep speaking out for peace and justice. I have no news of Mercury, but I pray that they are safe. I know that they live about 20 minutes from your Aunt Mags, but that is all I know. Our loss of Mercury is a very different type of loss. To the best of our knowledge, they are safe, but we have not seen them in 3 years. Somedays, it feels like your daddy, and I lived through both a death(yours) and a divorce (Mercury’s exodus).

Currently, I have 2 dogs asleep at my feet, a cat on the back of my chair and a hedgehog under my elbow. She is cuddled up in my red resistance hat. Your daddy is on his way home from juggling. I am glad for this fleeting moment of peace. We will stop in to see you before Compline tomorrow night. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

World Cancer Day

Dear Ravi,

First of all, some very good news. Two cancer acts have been signed into law. This includes the Mikaela Naylon Give Kids a Chance Act, and the Accelerating Kids’ Access to Care Act. Mikaela was a young woman with osteosarcoma. In her final weeks of life, while on hospice care, she journeyed to Washington DC and spoke on Capitol Hill about the need for more modern treatments to combat rare diseases. Her final acts were ones of advocacy. I wish I could reach out and give her mother a huge hug. Mikaela was like you, fierce and strong, even while facing a stage 4 cancer diagnosis. I will light a candle for her this Sunday at church.

Daddy and I are back from Arizona, adapting to the cold. It is not sub zero anymore, so we have been taking the dogs for daily walks. I even ran a little bit with Gloria, yesterday. It is still very icy, so I am being cautious. I just received a very nice phone call from April, at a Christian publishing company. She said that their review board had read our manuscript, thought it was very well written and interesting and would like to offer me a contract. I am expecting several more conversations with publishers this week and then will choose the one that best fits our needs and our budget. Someway or another, Ravi, we produced at 362-page document that will be released in book, audio and eBook form. It does not seem real. I have wanted to be a writer since Helen Trew first put a pencil in my hand, gave me a journal, and said that I could write anything that I wished. I have been keeping a journal or a notebook ever since. What makes me very sad is that Anabel got hold off all of my notebooks from college, read them and then threw them away. She said that they were just too sad. This begs the question, of course, what was she doing reading my personal journals? In them I also had letters from Mom Sue and friends, jottings on books I had read, what it was like to be a collegiate runner and scholar, and lots of other things as well. Over 30 years have passed, but I still grieve the loss of those notebooks. It felt like she was stealing my voice and erasing my existence. This is only one of the many reasons your father and I have cut contact with my family of origin. Everyone has a story, and they deserve to be able to write their thoughts and not have them thrown into a trash can like they did not matter.

Enough of that, I am still on a high that publishers are reading our book and deeming it fit for print. In the past year, we have had over 4,000 visitors to our blog site. The bulk of these readers are from the United States, but some are from other far flung areas. We have readers from Pakistan, Vietnam, China, Japan, Denmark, Germany, Ireland, the UK and more. Your story is being heard. Ravi, my love, you are not forgotten.

The only thing that bothers me slightly about World Cancer Day is people tend to romanticize it, or make the cancer patients into superheroes or angels. Ravi, your bravery was that of a superhero, but I will never call you an angel. You were a bit of an imp. You stole French fries from complete strangers, launched yourself out of your bedroom window to walk to Super America to get gummi bears, took unchaperoned trips to Subway, and for 22 years marched to the beat of your own calliope. Darling, I love you dearly, but I earned every single grey hair that is on my head! You were sweet, caring, and funny, but you were not angelic. Total stop.

I had a really good conversation with Vanessa at the Osteosarcoma Institute yesterday. We were talking about fund raising. Saroma month is in either June or July and I will do some fund raising then. I have also decided to add a shoutout to OSI at the end of our book as a way for readers to make contributions towards better osteosarcoma outcomes. This seems like a better and more efficient way to raise money than just trying to do it through Facebook or social media.

Ravi, I miss you. I feel that good things are going to happen with our book, but I wish that you were here with me to share the joy and excitement. I never claimed to be your voice, but I am proud to tell your story. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Arizona!

Dear Ravi,

Your daddy and I took a week long trip to Arizona to escape the cold, snow, and political upheaval in the Twin Cities. In short, it was wonderful. Pam and Jay hosted us at lovely house in the foothills that they had access to. There was a lemon tree in the front yard and saguaro cactus everywhere. It has been a long time since I have seen such beautiful sunsets, they cast such lovely colors on the mountains. The high temperatures were in the mid 70’s, perfect for sitting on the patio drinking coffee, or going for hikes up the canyon.

We took several hikes up a nearby canyon and my wish came true. I got to see a road runner. They are incredibly fast and very well camouflaged. Unlike the cartoon, they do not say beep beep, but they are very entertaining. We also saw a mama javelina and 2 babies, and another huge javelina standing on the side of the road, near the house. We did not get close to them at all as they are notoriously bad tempered. I have to admit, even the babies are rather ugly.

We had so many marvelous adventures. One day, daddy and I went to the Pima Air Museum. There is so much history there, and so many different types of planes. We saw the Air Force One that Kennedy flew on. This same plane also brought back the hostages from Iran and the POWs from the Iraq War. It was an honor just to be near it. There is another part of the museum devoted to World War II. It is run by veterans. Sadly, we only had a half an hour there before it closed for the day. We just missed seeing a pilot from World War II. He is 102 years old and comes to the museum every Thursday. A different World War II pilot is there on Mondays. I want to return as soon as possible. As you know, there are very few veterans from this war left alive.

On Saturday night we went to the Mount Lemmon Observatory. Ravi, it took my breath away. The observatory is at 9,161 feet in elevation. We got to see a marvelous sunset, had dinner, then went to the observatory. We saw Saturn, Jupiter, Sirius, the nebula of Orion, and the moon. Everything was so clear, you could clearly see the rings around Saturn. There were also a number of graduate astronomy students there to answer questions. They were fascinating to listen to. Ravi, I knew your daddy was an astronomy nerd, but I had no idea that it ran so deep. The students and their leader complimented him on his questions and at the end of the night told him that if he were ever looking for a job, he should give them a call! I am very proud of him.

Today, Sunday, was also a really good day. We met Tom and Karen at the glider port and went for rides. I have not been in a glider since at least 2001, and it was a blast. There was no lift and plenty of sink, so the ride only lasted about 20 minutes, but I savored every second of it. Daddy also went up for a ride and thoroughly enjoyed himself. He won’t get to glide again until at least April, when the field here dries out, but it was a marvelous way to spend the first day of February.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. We hung out at the airfield as long as we could, then had to head to the Tucson airport. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so in your honor we stopped by a Taco Bell on our way. I want to note that we did eat lots of great authentic Mexican food while we were there, but this little side trip was done just for you.

The dogs and cat were very happy upon our return. It is not quite as cold as it was when we left and there is a fresh coat of snow. Though I loved all of our trip to the Southwest, it feels good to be home. We have work to do here, to defend our state and to fight for democracy. I have the final clean edit of your book and am busy looking for an agent. I plan to return to work part time in March. Daddy is taking another welding class this month, too. I love you and miss you, but I felt your presence in the mountains and the desert. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Eyes Not Lies

Dear Ravi,

The madness continues. On Saturday morning, an innocent bystander was attacked, pistol whipped, and then gunned down outside of Glam Doll Donuts, on 26th and Nicollett. His name was Alex Pretti. He was an ICU nurse at the Veterans Hospital. A nurse, Ravi, with gentle hands, adored by his patients, coworkers, and family. An outdoor lover and a believer in freedom and free speech. He was attacked when he was trying to protect a woman from pepper spray. A woman who was documenting ICE, as is her legal right. ICE killed him and the Twin Cities is in turmoil. As Minnesotans, we are shaken, but we stand firm.

A few hours after the shooting, Joy sent out an email to the parish. That night, there was to be an all faiths vigil at the Unity Universalist Church. Elizabeth would be one of the presiding priests. Furthermore, we received another email that all the neighborhoods in the Twin Cities were holding candlelight vigils. Frigid sub zero temperatures mean nothing to Minnesotans. We always come out to show up for our own. Alex was one of our own. He will not be forgotten.

That evening at 7pm Robert and I went to Unity Church. There was not parking for blocks. We squeezed into the last row in the church. Behind us stood rows of people. More people sat above us in the gallery. When the candles in the front of the church were lit, not a sound was heard. Elizabeth was one of the first priests to speak. She spoke of love, community and being present for one another. Between other priests speaking there were many songs that were sung or chanted, often in the Taize form, an ancient form of chanting done centuries ago by monks in France. It is a very centering way to pray. The service lasted an hour but passed in the blink of an eye. The last priest to speak bade us to follow this mantra, Eyes Not Lies. We are to be eyes of what is happening around us. We are to be the truth tellers, in a world that wants to spin our reality into something that it is not. It is our job to walk forward in light, as peacemakers and speakers of truth. Eyes Not Lies.

For the very last song, all the priests in the congregation were asked to come forward and sing together. There were at least 40 of them. At that time, we learned that over 600 clergy had come to Minnesota to pray and march. They came from all walks of life, simply because the Spirit called them to do so. This is a mighty calling. After the song all the assembled clergy headed into the congregation with lit candles, to light all of the candles held by the parishioners. The church was filled with dancing light while we all sang a final song together. The feeling in the church was one I cannot even begin to describe the best I can say is I felt, unity, wholeness, and connection in a very shattered world. Then, we all tiptoed out into the night.

Your daddy and I drove home in silence. All through the neighborhood there were people standing vigil in the bitter cold holding candles and singing. It was mystical. We were deeply touched. Never have I been so broken hearted for my state, never have I been so proud to call Minnesota home. You and Mercury were born and raised here. Never forget that.

Ravi, right now I am in a very different place, at least physically. Your daddy and I flew with two dear friends to Tucson, Arizona to spend a week. The sunlight is amazing and it is almost warm. We want to go hiking and lose ourselves in the desert. There are huge cactus and lemon trees everywhere. I have not seen any wildlife yet but am really hoping to see quail and roadrunners. I haven’t seen quail in at least a dozen years, and I have never seen a roadrunner! I am curious about Javelinas, but don’t really wish to meet one up close. The sunrise and sunsets reflecting off the mountains are amazing. I did not realize until this morning how badly I missed mountains. I wish you were here to see them too. Even though we are far from home and I am not feeling as paranoid, I am still very sad and worried for our beloved state. I think we need this week, though, just to calm our nervous systems. We have been on high alert for a month. We will be on high alert when we return. We need this reset. Every morning, I wake up thinking things cannot get any worse, and then they do. Day after day. Minnesota will remain strong, but we grieve those who were senselessly taken from us, those that were detained, those that were sent away. We grieve for the children who are afraid to go to school, for the adults afraid to go to work or even to get groceries. ICE needs to go, and they need leave now.

Ravi, I miss you so much. I am glad that you are dancing with Dave Evans and Dave Coyne in heaven. Roberta has promised to stop by the chapel to see you often while we are gone. For this I am deeply grateful. I know that you are not really in the chapel, but it is one of my touchpoints. I see you in the birds, the butterflies, I feel you in the warm breeze that touches my cheeks. I will look for you in the Arizona desert. Ravi, you were one of the bravest, strongest people I have ever known. Rest in sweet peace. Dance in heaven. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

55

Dear Ravi,

It is snowing today and the temperature is about to drop to between 20 and 30 degrees F below zero this weekend. The dogs have taken up permanent lodging under a heated throw with me. Today is my 55th birthday and I so wish that you were here to share it with me. Do you know why my 32nd birthday was so special? It was my first birthday as a new mom! Pictures show me 23 years younger, exhausted from little sleep, and utterly jubilant. You were the center of my world. In another year, Mercury would join us, and the two of you would become the center of my world. I dreaded my birthday last year. I did not want to move on from age 53 to 54. When I was 53, I could still hold you in my arms and tell you how much I loved you. Honestly, I can only remember bits and pieces of the last year. This is one of the many reasons I keep a journal. I look back at prior entries and marvel at the things that I wrote, things that I no longer remember. There were good times of travel and dear friends. There were also days of deep grief when I couldn’t even leave the house. I honor both of those memories.

Today was a good day. Daddy knows the way to my heart. He brought my roses, good coffee and new running shoes. I received cards from many dear friends. I feel loved, and not too completely wrecked. I am amazed how good the new running shoes feel! One is supposed to rotate out old shoes after about 400 miles. This poor pair of shoes has carried me for at least 625 miles. When I took them off and pulled on a new pair of Saucony Triumph my feet gave an audible gasp of relief. Perhaps I should rotate my shoes more regularly. Because of all the snow and ice, I am afraid to walk outside. I don’t want to fall and reinjure my back. I did get in about 2 miles just pacing around stores today. That helped. We are going to warmer climes next week and I look forward to daily walks and hikes. I miss moving my body. The treadmill helps, but I really want to feel warm air on my face and be able to work up a good sweat. I miss sunlight! It feels like we have not seen the sun in weeks.

Thank you for being a most beautiful part of my life. It is hard to pick up the pieces and keep on going. If there is cake or really good coffee in heaven, by all means, please have some for me. Gloria is being very snuggly these days and can often be found on my lap under a heated blanket. Jack Jack is his usual merry self. Raya is becoming much braver. She is learning sit and shake. She is Daddy’s velcro dog, which is exactly what I wanted to happen when we adopted her 13 months ago. You would like her. She is very sweet and silly. That’s all I have for right now. I hope you are dancing in heaven with Dave Coyne and Dave Evans. The three of you were dear, beautiful people. I love you forever. Mom.

What is your dream job?

Dear Ravi,

This was the writing prompt for today. I can answer this easily, caring for you was my dream job. You had PCAs since you were four years old. Some of them were wonderful and became a part of our family for years. Others I quickly fired, such as the one that emptied our liquor cabinet. Daddy drinks rarely and I do not drink at all. One day when reaching for some cooking sherry Daddy noticed that almost all of the bottles of alcohol in our cabinet were empty! We had three different PCAs at the time, and I trusted two of them with my life. The culprit was obvious to us and he was quickly dispatched.

When you were fifteen you developed epilepsy. The nurse in the ER warned me that I would never sleep the same again, that I would always sleep with one ear open. She was entirely correct. Even now, I still sleep with one ear open. It’s a special needs mommy thing. At this time, I realized that I could not work outside of the home, because I had to be ready at any moment to come get you from school or an activity in case you had a seizure. I dropped my tutoring obligations and my nanny job and became your full time PCA. As to your epilepsy, you were trialed on many different medications. At one point, you had a beautiful run of 18 months seizure free. That was amazing. Sadly, after that the seizures became much more common. After you were diagnosed with osteosarcoma your seizures became so much worse. My theory was that your stress level from being in the hospital was super high, your body was very fragile, and this caused you to have more frequent and severe seizures. Your doctors admitted that my theory might be correct, but they did not have a lot of data about treatment resistance epilepsy and chemotherapy.

Boo, I loved being your PCA. We could choose to do what we pleased with our days when you were not in school or when we were shut down during Covid. We had our own little bubble of friends and our own fun activities we could do on our own. You did not like online school so Alissa and I took over teaching you everything we could about the outside world. We followed your interests, and even when our world seemed very small, you were happy and thriving.

After your osteosarcoma diagnosis, carrying for you was a 24/7 kind of job, but I still loved it. Your daddy and I were perpetually exhausted, but it did not matter. You were the center of our existence. Never have you been more loved. I have had great jobs and terrible jobs since 1989, but I never had a job like I had when I was your caretaker. Though it is often painful to think back on the last 22 years of your life, you, me, and daddy were one connected unit. We laughed together and cried together. And, at the very end we said goodbye to you as your soul slipped away to freedom.

I am working part time at most right now. I don’t want to work full time. I tried it less than 8 weeks after we lost you and it nearly destroyed me. I still love being a PCA and caretaking, but it is much less of an emotional commitment. I can go home at the end of the day and turn my mind to other things. Ravi, you were my dream job, the best job ever. Please know that. You appear in my dreams often. Sometimes, I wake up smiling, other times I wake up in tears. You will never be forgotten. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to help you, love you, care for you. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Who Was a Good Leader?

Dear Ravi,

This was the WordPress prompt for the day. Now, some people may think I would select Obama, or as a best former president, Jimmy Carter. Goodness knows I will wax rhapsodic about both of these gentlemen. My choice, however, goes to a certain little red merle girl who was born into my hands and became your best friend forever, Rosie.

Rosie was Ravi’s Australian Shepherd service dog. Her mama, Zuli, decided to give birth while Myra and I were on a trip out to the country to do some dog training. We were having lunch and Zuli, who was very pregnant at the time, suddenly gave one woof and trotted off towards the van. A few minutes later Myra decided to follow her. A few minutes after that I followed Myra. Zuli had hopped into the back of the van and promptly popped out a puppy just as Myra walked up. Surprise! (We thought Zuli was not due for another 3 or 4 days.) Right after that Zuli pushed again and a tiny red merle female landed in my hands. At that point, we decided we were better off in the cabin, where Zuli promptly delivered another puppy. There was no running water in the cabin, so we headed for home. Halfway there I heard a new noise. Another puppy had joined the pack. When we got to Myra’s place, we put the proud mama and the three puppies in a whelping pen (a kiddie pool full of newspaper) and I ran home to take a quick shower. I realized I was covered in mud, dirt, amniotic fluid, and blood. In record time I took a shower and went speeding back over the Myra’s place to find not three but seven puppies happily nursing! We spent hours cooing over the puppies and telling Zuli what a good job that she did.

A few weeks later Myra had to go out of town, so the puppies moved into my kitchen, whelping pen and all. They were growing fast and furious and were curious about everything. Realizing they were outgrowing their first home, I bought an X pen and set it up in the kitchen. I put all the puppies inside and started to walk away to put Zuli outside. I looked back and the little red merle girl I had delivered was determinedly scaling the wall of the four-foot X pen. She got herself to the top, hesitated for a moment, then heaved herself into space. She hit the floor on all four paws and began toddling after me. That was when I knew that she had chosen me to be her dog and thus began over twelve years of an absolute love affair. I named her Rosie.

Out of the litter, Rosie chose me and Gracie chose Myra. The other puppies all went to families who wanted a good working dog for agility, service, or herding. Myra and I spent years training the two sisters side by side. Though they had identical training routines, ultimately, Gracie decided she wanted to be an agility dog and Rosie decided she wanted to be your service dog.

Rosie not only became your service dog, but she also became the household manager. She woke you up every morning. She told me when it was her mealtime and ours. She waited with you for the bus and alerted me when it came. When the bus returned seven hours later, she would once again alert me. She was an amazing tracking dog and could find you whenever you chose to wander off. When I took her running, she was fiercely protective of me. I could run at all hours of the day or night and knew that I was perfectly safe. If you were having a hard time, she would lie on top of you and give you deep pressure. You shared all your food with her. She was very good about never taking food when she was working and had her vest on, but at home she could never resist a treat or any fallout from your plate. For twelve years she was an integral part of your life and the entire household. Tragically, she died suddenly of liver cancer long before we were ready for her to go. She was born into my hands and passed from this life in my arms. I think that there is symmetry to that.

So, my best beloved, that is my choice for who was the best leader, and I think that you would agree with me. Rosie was your best buddy from the time you were four until you were sixteen. We both grieved her death immensely. She was the leader of the household pack, your best friend, and my wing woman. Though other aussies have come after her, she was truly our heart dog. I know that you and she are romping on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, sharing all the treats, and having a marvelous time. Love you forever, see you both someday, and we will all go for a long walk. Love, Mom.

If I Could Uninvent Something

Dear Ravi,

This was the writing prompt for this afternoon. Can WordPress make it any more easy? You and I both know what we would uninvent, number 47. I am not going to give him a title or a name. He does not deserve it. He is a pathetic man/child that is sending federal troops into Minnesota. Unlike the ICE agents who do not have a clue about how to handle the frigid conditions of our home state, these troops are trained in Alaska. Yes, Alaska, where it is so cold that they run the school buses all winter long because otherwise they will never start up again. Hmmm.

Fortunately, our governor has another plan up his sleeve. He has called up the MN national guard. These are homegrown Minnesotans who probably grew up playing pond hockey without pads or helmets and are thrilled when the temperatures fall off the thermometer. I wish to high heaven that this was not happening. I don’t want ICE, federal troops, or the national guard in our metro area. Minnesotans look after their own and like to be left alone. Sure, we may invite you to Twins or Vikings game, or to enjoy our symphony, but then we would like to you to go back where you came from.

The irony, Ravi, is that they are scooping up and deporting Natives. People who have lived on this land long before Caucasians ever showed up. Despite the fact that these people are carrying MN drivers’ licenses and tribal IDs, they have been disappeared anyway. Our church, St Clement’s, was built on tribal land. We are acutely aware of this and make certain that our doors are always open to everyone regardless of race, color, or creed.

So, though yesterday was a victory, chasing the white supremists out of Minneapolis, ICE just seems to have scattered into the suburbs. Right now I hear reports that they are in Rochester, stealing Mayo patients out of their cars. Mayo was set up by an order of peace-loving nuns. I am certain that this was not even in their most bizarre nightmares. Mayo saved your life on two occasions, and I have a very special place for them in my heart.

So, we both know what I want to uninvent. He has done nothing but harm our country. His first term was bad enough, but he came roaring back with a vengeance. He thinks he needs Greenland. He wants to terrify blue states. In short, he is a monster, and that is giving monsters a bad name. I miss you my son, I love you. I will go on resisting by alerting our neighbors of danger, buying groceries and supplies for your school and in any other small ways I can think of. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

A Quick Note to Ravi

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday was a day that would make you proud to be a Minnesotan. As you probably know, there was going to be a white supremist rally in the Cedar Riverside neighborhood, blocks from Masonic Children’s Hospital. I am very familiar with that neighborhood. I often took runs and walks through there while Daddy was keeping you company. As you also know, this is a Somali neighborhood and a place of peace. Anyway, some stupid white men with more testosterone than sense and drunk on power decided they would march through the neighborhood and burn the Qur’an on the steps of city hall. To our everlasting delight, the march crashed and fizzled. First of all, the weather was in our favor. It was bone chilling, sub zero temperatures, typical of Minnesota in January. Less than a dozen supremists turned out. A few stepped out of their hotel, got slapped in the face by the bitter cold, saw the hordes of peaceful protesters and retreated back into the hotel. This left one white dude with a megaphone, all by himself. The crowd mocked him and jeered at him. They threw snowballs and water balloons. They literally chased him down the street. He was trying to get back to his hotel. Out of nowhere came a young African American man. He took his enemy by the arm and directed him to safety, while getting pelted by snowballs and water balloons that were aimed at his foe. This young brother guided his enemy to safety. Ravi, he did not have to do this. The person he helped believed that he should “go back where he came from”. Sweetheart, this is true agape, selfless love.

Things are very uncertain and uncomfortable here right now, and it is stretching across the country. I heard today that the orange maggot is sending ICE to Disney in Florida. This is a chance for the Mouse to stand up and roar. If they want to continue being the most magical place on earth, then they need to fight back. If they don’t, no one will want to go there. One of Florida’s premier vacation destinations will be vacant. We never took you to Disney Land or Disney World. Honestly, I have never been there either. You and Mercury never showed the slightest interest in anything Disney related, so for your Zak’s wish trip, we went north to Duluth. Not seeking crowds, but solitude and a beautiful Great Lake that stretches farther than the eye can see. We rode around on a modified bike, we walked on the beach, we ate lots of great food, and we enjoyed each other’s company. That was one of the best weeks of my life. I wish that serenity for the world today. Our country does not need Greenland. We do not need mall cops heady with power in our streets. We are better than this.

As I write, I hear helicopters overhead. Like during the George Floyd riots, they have become a steady backdrop of noise. Things are peaceful for a while, then are disrupted by honking horns, whistles, and sirens. Peace is very fragile. I am proud to be a Minnesotan. I am proud that you were born, lived, and died in this beautiful state. It is up to us to stand on the right side of justice. Peace to you my son, I love you forever. Mom.