Despite the darkness, I still see signs of hope in America
It's difficult to pinpoint the moment in my life where America started to lose the plot.
The last time America celebrated a big anniversary, I was all of three years old. Even so, I retain a few fuzzy memories from a sunny summer afternoon in small-town Michigan: climbing on a cannon in front of the courthouse, watching a parade, and seeing my dad, a veteran and Centreville city councilman, giving a short talk about democracy.
Only later would I realize the significance of the date: July 4th, 1976, America’s bicentennial.
America was imperfect and inconsistent in its approaches to "freedom," but the country had done some big, difficult things in recent decades. We had led the charge to roll back the tide of fascism and Holocaust during World War II. We had begun to confront internal demons through the nonviolent activism of the civil rights movement. And, critically for my own life trajectory, we had landed on the Moon.