Why change in education must come from the bottom up

As the challenge of educating and providing for the well-being of our children continues to grow, so does a popular storyline: That the problems facing our schools originate in Washington, D.C., or our state capitols, and therefore that is where the solutions lie.

I think that is wrong and a cop out. The solutions can often lie within our individual school districts and school boards, which for too long have failed to show the leadership needed to address the profound challenges facing our children.

Too often, our local leaders choose to point the finger and place responsibility for solving these challenges at the feet of others, all the while rubber-stamping the status quo or shirking the controversial questions of the day as they focus on personal agendas or loyalties to local interest groups.

We've seen it on the issue of school safety in the years since the Sandy Hook massacre. Instead of making the safety of our children a priority amid the gun violence epidemic, most school districts quickly went back to business as usual and chose to stay as far from the broader political debates as possible. The Martinez Unified school board wouldn't even do something as basic as pass a resolution calling on state and national leaders to address the issue with action, as as at least one neighboring district did. As a result, there was little or no pressure on national leaders to solve the problem once and for all, and school shootings and violence have only grown in the years since.

It is time for school boards to stand with children and not behind them on the issue of safety.

There was another opportunity for change after the Parkland, Florida, massacre last spring when students across the country, including right here in Martinez, stood up and demanded action that has been missing for so long. But once again, school boards such as our own showed no willingness to wade into the broader societal issue and chose instead to tell our students, "We hope your generation fixes this." Instead of passing the buck, imagine what might happen if school boards across the state and nation banded together to place relentless pressure on state and national leaders to fix the problem of gun violence and make our schools safe? 

The issues surrounding sexual harassment and assault stemming from the #MeToo movement have provided another opportunity for school boards to take the lead on addressing the prevalence of this problem in their own schools, where it surely exists. But as with gun violence, it's so much easier to chalk this up as a societal and not a local issue and pay it little more than lip service. School boards could be on the front end of revamping their sex education curriculums to adapt to the changing realities and awareness around this issue, but it's so much easier to simply wait for direction from the state or national government, which is often slow to come, if it ever does.

In the area of school funding, we see how much easier it is for districts to simply point the finger at the state or national governments for failing to provide enough money to meet their needs, instead of taking a hard look at ways to root out waste and inefficiency in their budgets and ensure that our tax dollars are spent efficiently and with an eye toward achieving the most impact for the most students. Our school board leaders often seem to expect blind loyalty on the part of taxpayers to entrust them with more money without showing that those dollars are being spent transparently and wisely in a way that places the interests of students and taxpayers first. And to the degree that a lack of funding is a problem, why aren't they doing more to pressure leaders in state capitols and make clear to legislators that they demand more support from them? 

Our school board leaders often cast themselves as being above politics and partisanship, which gives them cover from dodging the divisive issues that directly impact our schools. But in reality, they often align themselves with local interest groups, whether they be business or labor oriented, that may place their interests and priorities ahead of those of our children. I saw that first-hand last spring when, amid the tumult of school safety concerns and an exodus of teachers from our district, our board in Martinez decided to prioritize a project labor agreement sought by local trade unions that had given two board members thousands of dollars in campaign contributions (one board member called the negotiation process a "money grab" and a "crock" because of how one-sided and unfair it was to the interests of district stakeholders). In the case of the West Contra Costa Unified School District, this type of blind allegiance to campaign contributors and interest groups led to widespread waste and mismanagement of a construction bond program that resulted in the fleecing of local taxpayers, many of them from working or middle class backgrounds.

When I called on candidates for the MUSD school board in this election to take no contributions from outside interest groups that could directly benefit from their votes so that there would be no question that the interests of taxpayers, students and staff come first, one of the groups that benefited directly from the project labor agreement still found a way to try to influence our elections: by spending over $4,000 through an independent PAC expenditure on a mailer for one of the board members (my opponent) who had offered them blanket support, never mentioning in the mailer their motivation:

It is time to elect school board members who will stand with -- and not behind -- our students who are demanding action on the issue of gun violence and school safety. It is time to elect school board members who will do more than pay lip service to the big issues facing our children and will roll up their sleeves and tackle these issues head on with innovative programs and initiatives. It is time to elect school board members who are humble and committed enough to spend as much time acknowledging and trying to solve their district's shortcomings and failures as they are in trumpeting its accomplishments. And it is time to elect school board members who are NOT beholden to local interest groups that stand to benefit directly from their votes, regardless of what it means for our district and the people it directly serves. 

In short, it is time for change to start coming from the bottom up. As we should all know by now, waiting for Washington or Sacramento to solve our problems is a losing strategy. 

What if Robert Kennedy had lived 50 years ago?

As a lifelong history buff, I've always been most intrigued by the "what if" questions. How would one change of fate at key moments in the history of our nation have forever changed its course, and our lives as a result?

What if Sherman hadn't captured Atlanta on the eve of the 1864 presidential election, saving Lincoln's bid for a second term? What if Lincoln had survived his trip to Ford's Theater, saving us from the nightmare presidency of Andrew Johnson? (if you think Trump is incompetent, unhinged and racist, read up on Johnson).

What if the U.S. Navy had been prepared for the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and delivered Japan a crushing blow? What if Roosevelt had lived to serve out his fourth term, and John F. Kennedy had lived to serve a second?

But the "what if" question I've always found most intriguing surrounds the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy 50 years ago today (he was shot on June 5 and died on June 6). With all the other "what ifs," it's easy to speculate what might have happened in the immediate aftermath, and how the arc of history would have changed at least in the short term (Lincoln sees through Reconstruction; JFK sails to a second term). With RFK, the possible outcomes are almost too numerous to count, and nearly impossible to discern. It's entirely possible that his assassination had little, if any, effect on the history of the past 50 years. It's also entirely possible that its impact on our political system, and society as a whole, is still being felt and reckoned with.

When he gave his victory speech in Los Angeles upon winning the California Democratic primary and embarked upon that fateful walk through the Ambassador Hotel, no one knew what the future held for RFK, or the nation, in the days and months ahead. It is entirely possible that he nevertheless would have been denied the Democratic presidential nomination at the party's convention later that summer, that Richard Nixon still would have been elected president later that fall, and, like his brother Ted, RFK would have receded to a long career in the U.S. Senate.

There's much to be said for that argument. Incumbent President Lyndon Johnson, whose disdain for RFK was mutual, clearly favored his vice president, Hubert Humphrey, for the nomination, along with the party establishment. While his strong showing in the primaries certainly would have given RFK momentum heading into Chicago, it's far from certain he would have been able to overcome the structural hurdles to the nomination that stood in his way. After all, his main rival in the Democratic primaries that year, and the man whose primary challenge to Johnson first shook up the race, Sen. Eugene McCarthy, saw his anti-Vietnam War campaign for the nomination fizzle at the convention.

But what if it had all gone differently? The history of the last 50 years, and our perception about politics and each other, might be profoundly different today.

There's maybe an even stronger argument to be made that, had he lived, RFK would have triumphed in Chicago and in the presidential election that year. The means the Vietnam War likely would have ended years earlier; the United States may have come to terms with race relations and immigration in a way that still hasn't happened; and there never would have been Watergate, with all the cynicism toward politics and politicians that accompanied it.

Here's how it all could have played out and how our nation and world could have been so much different today:

• RFK would have arrived in Chicago promising to recapture the Kennedy magic that had disappeared from the Democratic Party with his brother's murder five years earlier. The contrast between the fresh, inspiring message of the martyred president's brother and the hand-picked choice of JFK's unpopular successor would have been too much for the delegates to resist. After a fierce battle on the convention floor, RFK would have wrested the nomination from Humphrey.
• RFK's presence likely would have prevented much, maybe all, of the violence that overtook the city streets during the convention when Chicago police viciously assaulted anti-war protesters. He would have provided the same calming influence that he had while speaking in Indiana the night of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination, and one of the uglier episodes of an ugly year in America likely would never have occurred.
• Unlike Humphrey, RFK's nomination would have presented a clear contrast with Richard Nixon in the presidential election. While Nixon ran as the "law and order" candidate, Kennedy would have run as the candidate promising to end the Vietnam War, continue the war on poverty, stand up for oppressed farm workers, battle for liberal ideals, and lead the long-overdue reckoning with race relations in the country.
• RFK would have exploited Nixon's many flaws in a way Humphrey never could. Saddled with a disastrous convention and LBJ's baggage, Humphrey was given almost no chance to beat Nixon as the presidential race heated up that year. But what looked like a sure landslide turned into a razor-close race as Humphrey improbably ate into Nixon's lead in the weeks before the election, and nearly pulled off a historic upset. RFK would have had none of Humphrey's baggage and an ability to energize the electorate in a way Humphrey was simply incapable of. It remains one of the ironies of history that 1968, a year of profound change and upheaval in the country, led to the election of a man who had been a political has-been only a year or two earlier. With hindsight, it's hard to see how Nixon could have prevailed against RFK.
• The greatest "what-if" remains what a Robert Kennedy presidency would have rendered. He almost certainly would have moved to end the Vietnam War much quicker than Nixon and restore the United States' prestige in the world. There certainly never would have been a Watergate scandal, with all the distrust of politics and politicians that followed, but that doesn't mean RFK wouldn't have been tripped up by scandals and missteps of his own. And would he have followed Nixon's detente policy with the Soviet Union and opening with China, or even gone further?

Of all the "what if" questions here, the most intriguing for me is whether RFK would have moved aggressively to confront our social demons around race, immigration and poverty, or would he have taken the more cautious, pragmatic route of his brother once in office? Would he have been a liberal lion in the White House, in the way his would brother would become in the Senate in the decades that followed, and used his majorities in Congress to push through bold new social legislation? And if he had moved aggressively, would it have sparked a backlash among Nixon's great "silent majority" that would have doomed his presidency as moving too far, too fast, perhaps setting up an epic battle with Ronald Reagan in 1972?

Or would his lofty rhetoric and soaring ideals have restored faith in the presidency after the stain of Vietnam and helped bring forth, in the words of Lincoln a century earlier, "the better angels of our nature" as the nation emerged from the turbulent 1960s. RFK's ability to inspire through words would have rivaled Barack Obama, and his innate political skill, experience and boldness might have better equipped him to execute his vision.

The idealist in me likes to think RFK would have indeed summoned those angels capable of trumping the cynicism, bitterness, distrust and division that would continue to grow and fester over the next half century, culminating with Donald Trump.

But the realist says that would have been too daunting a task for any president, even a Kennedy.

Remembering the friend I lost to gun violence 30 years ago

This weekend, I joined thousands of people across the Bay Area and the nation in wearing orange to remember the lives lost to gun violence and the families that bear that grief of loved ones forever gone. For the first time in my life, I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge (a sad fact considering I'm a lifelong Bay Area resident), as part of the annual bridge march marking Gun Violence Awareness Day.

My inspiration for immersing myself in the movement to combat gun violence in recent months largely stems from the example of the Parkland, Florida, students in the wake of the mass shooting at their school, and my disgust at seeing so many lives destroyed by this epidemic and so many children who now live in fear because of it. As a parent, I'm continually haunted by what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School to 20 first-graders in 2012, and the grief their families -- and so many others since -- must live with each day of their lives.

But as I walked across the world's most famous bridge on Saturday and took in one of the most beautiful vistas on earth, my mind turned squarely to the classmate and friend I lost to gun violence in 1989.

The Pinole Valley High School Class of '89 will always be haunted by the tragedy that took Danton Dibble from us near the end of our senior year. He was one of the most popular, easy-going and personable members of our class, and the last person you would have thought might fall victim to a fatal bullet.

The details of what happened are a bit foggy all these years later. What I do recall is that Danton died because he was simply at the wrong place and the wrong time when he encountered a drunk teen who had gotten his hands on a rifle that he should never have had access to. Danton and some of his friends were hanging out one evening in a nearby regional park when the student with the rifle came across them and began indiscrimately firing shots into the air. One bullet struck Danton in the head. Despite the heroic efforts of his friends to rush him to the hospital, he died.

Danton and I weren't close friends. I was naturally shy and a loner who never fully conquered my social phobias as a teenager (in case my fellow classmates wonder why they rarely if ever saw me at parties or dances, now you know). But I was fortunate enough to get to know many students casually through my involvement on the school newspaper and speech and debate teams, and Danton was among them. I recall us taking typing class together our senior year (yes, they once taught typing in high school with actual typewriters). He was a natural jokester who always seemed to have a sly remark on the tip of his tongue for any occasion and always seemed to have a smile on his face. I recall that when we came across one another in the quad during lunch, we would stop and chat for a few moments. Like most of the classmates I knew in high school, Danton was much more popular than I, and had many more opportunities for social interaction, so the fact he took an interest in me always meant a lot. I recall that, like me, he had deeper interests in politics and the larger world, even at our young ages, and our discussions would sometimes turn to the weighty issues of the day (I regret to say that back in those days, I was a George H.W. Bush Republican).

During my senior year, I was fortunate to land a part-time gig as a sports "stringer" for my local newspaper. I was writing up a basketball game story in the newsroom the night my editor asked me if I knew of a Danton Dibble and told me what had happened. All I remember feeling at that moment and in the days that followed was a numbness. It was hard to come to grips with the emotions of losing a fellow student, a teenager who, like me, had his entire life ahead of him. And so, I didn't try. I left the grief and emotional reckoning to those who knew him better than I did. I stoically wrote the story for the school newspaper, took part in some brief conversations with classmates and teachers, tried to offer what little consolation I could to his twin sister (another popular member of our class) and then rarely said another word about it. I retreated back into my emotional and social cocoon.

A few months later, I graduated along with the rest of the Class of '89 and we went our separate ways. I lost touch with nearly everyone I went to high school with until the power of Facebook brought many of us back together decades later. In the years that followed, Danton's memory would sometimes enter my thoughts, and I would think about where his life might have taken him. And I would sometimes glance at the page in our school yearbook that paid tribute to him. It included the following quote attributed to him that seemed to perfectly capture my relationship with him and the mutual affection we felt:
"To all those who paths I've crossed but never followed...I still love you."

We will always love you too, Danton. And we will never forget you or the thousands of others lost to gun violence.

Why I hated everything about "Solo" (except Donald Glover)

There's been a disturbance in the force that binds me with my fellow Star Wars nerds recently. It has to do with our differing opinions over the latest Star Wars flick, "Solo." While many seem to have found it at least mildly entertaining, or even downright good, I rank it as one of the worst movies in the history of the franchise, dare I say maybe even worse than the dreaded prequels.

To avoid the risk of an argument on the order of one of those nasty, no-holds-barred smackdowns between Han and Princess Leia, I feel a need to explain in some detail (hopefully not too much) why I disliked this movie so very much.

So here it goes. Every reason I hated "Solo" with a passion (except for the Donald Glover-as-Lando scenes).

This was not the Han Solo I was looking for

OK, we all knew going in this would be a monumental challenge: How a person who didn't resemble in any way the Harrison Ford character we all remembered and loved could pull this off. For me, Alden Ehrenreich's performance crashed and burned in ways that went far deeper than looks. Nothing about his portrayal in this movie called to mind for me the depth, contradictions and complexities of Harrison Ford's Solo. 

Or to put it more simply, there was simply no swagger. Swagger, more than any other noun I can think of, defined the real Han Solo. And within that swagger lay the cynicism, bravery, self-centeredness, wit and, ultimately, heart that made Solo unforgettably endearing. Ehrenreich's Solo seems to spend the movie trying to convince us he's a tough guy. Ford's Solo didn't need to do any convincing; for one thing, he didn't care what you thought to begin with. 

The movie tries to give us glimpses of all the qualities that defined the real Han Solo, but it's always forced and superficial. Yeah, Ehrenreich's Solo is cocky, but not in the aloof, self-assured, sardonic way Harrison Ford was. He looks out only for himself, except when he's puppy-dog love sick for his old girlfriend back on Corellia. He has a knack for getting himself in and out of jams, but not with the comical farce and unflappable charm that always seemed to accompany's Ford's adventures (or misadventures). 

Worse of all, Ehrenreich's Solo conveys an innocence and a naivete that reminded me much more of Luke Skywalker from the original films than the original Han. It was actually Donald Glover's Lando who brought the swagger and charm to this movie that made me think of the Han Solo I so loved.

Where was the "wonderful girl"?

Let's face it, much of what made Harrison Ford's Han Solo so amusing and appealing was the interplay with the only woman in the galaxy able to fluster him at every turn. The beauty of Han and Leia's relationship, the way in which each character elevated the other throughout the series, could be summed up in Han's memorable line from the original film: "Wonderful girl! Either I'm going to kill her or I'm beginning to like her." 

A Han Solo love story simply doesn't work without the type of sexual tension and inherent conflict that defined his relationship with Leia. Nothing in Han Solo's life is simple or straightforward, least of all coming to terms with his feelings for a member of the opposite sex.

 Han's relationship with Qi'ra is simple and boring, much closer to the sappy Padme-Anakin romance than the Han-Leia fireworks. It follows a typical action-hero movie romance formula that never goes very far. He loves her, but then fate splits them up. All he wants to do is find her again, but when he does, things have changed. The movie never fully delves into how and why and what it all means. Because by that time we have to make it through the Kessel Run. 

I'm not saying the writers of "Solo" had to recreate a Leia-like relationship complete with "nerf-herder" and "Your Worship" barbs, but there needed to be more complexity and conflict in their relationship from the beginning (or maybe he should have just been left as a freewheeling bachelor). When the movie opens, these are basically just two kids going steady before interstellar fate sends them on different paths. The Han-and-Leia relationship always complemented and furthered the larger story; in this movie, the relationship is just window dressing to take up screen time between battle scenes. 

When it comes to Star Wars plots, keep it simple! 

In my opinion, there's a basic choice when writing a Star Wars movie script: Keep the plot lines simple and go deep with character development, or get lost in the weeds with the plot and make the characters superficial. The movies work best when they stick to the simple plot-deep character formula (as in the original trilogy and Episodes VII and VIII) and fall apart when they go the other way, as in the dreaded prequels and "Solo." 

This movie simply gets lost in the convoluted "Crimson Dawn" crime syndicate story line. I never connected with any of the characters, in part because I was too busy trying to keep straight who was who. When you have to spend all your time connecting the dots on the plot, there's no time to flesh out the characters, who have always been at the heart of the Star Wars movies. That was the disaster of the prequels when we were constantly trying to figure out what was happening with trade federations, clone armies and intergalactic tax law. 

Star Wars is not an action movie series; it's a mythology series

This may be the most basic reason the movie disappointed me so greatly. It comes down to expectations, and what I expect from these movies may be fundamentally different from what others expect. 

At its heart, Star Wars is a mythology, and the movies work only as well as the mythological elements they capture in their characters. To one extent or another, the movies are all a takeoff of the classic "Hero's Journey" motif that goes back to Greek mythology and Biblical stories. Their allure, for me at least, is not so much in their space battles, but rather the inner, spiritual battles they bring out in their characters. In that sense, Star Wars has always been much closer to the Lord of the Rings series than Star Trek or the Marvel superhero movies, none of which have ever held much appeal to me beyond being popcorn movies that you can enjoy much more at age 17 than at 47. 

"Solo" struck me more as a "Captain America" or "Thor" type spin-off than a real Star Wars movie that plumbs the depths of the mystical forces and struggles at play in that galaxy far, far away. Perhaps that was too much to expect in a spin-off movie about a loner and rogue who didn't believe in "hokey" religions to begin with. But the previous Star Wars spin-off, "Rogue One," pulled it off brilliantly. 

Finally, I always saw Han Solo as Star Wars' version of Casablanca's Rick Blaine, the reluctant hero always trying to convince himself of things he didn't really believe. In Casablanca (which I watched again last week), we see the arc of Rick's of journey from cynicism and self-pity to sacrifice, and finally idealism. But, as was the case with Han in the original Star Wars movies, we never got to fully see what made Rick tick to begin with. My guess is that a Casablanca prequel would have explored Rick's early flirtation with idealism and the inner turmoil that ultimately led him to become the disgruntled, cynical loner we find in the classic movie. "Solo" could have aimed for the same.

But by the time Han makes the fateful decision to pick self-interest over idealism at the end of "Solo," I really have no idea why he chooses that path, other than the fact he lost his girlfriend. At least when Rick loses his girl, you can feel his anguish in the pained expression on his face and his slurred mutterances while nursing a bottle of booze. Han just seems to move on.

Instead of telling us what made our favorite space pirate tick, the movie took the easy way out: Telling us how he made the Kessel Run in under 12 parsecs. I would have preferred to peer into his soul instead.

Coming face to face with the homeless in our community

Each year, my parish takes part in a wonderful program in Contra Costa County that houses homeless families at local churches. For two weeks, families pitch tents in our church gymnasium, where they spend their nights. Members of the church community take turns preparing meals and offering spiritual and material sustenance. At the end of the two weeks, the families pack up their tents and sleeping bags and move on to another local church. The program starts in October and often runs until the summer.

I took part in the program at Christ the King in Pleasant Hill this year, hauling 15 enchiladas that my wife baked to the final night of the families' stay, where I and others shared with them a Mexican-themed meal (there were no shortage of people going for seconds). I had the privilege of helping to serve the families and children, who despite their poor circumstances, smiled broadly and expressed a degree of gratitude that I found touching.

As rewarding as the experience was, it was also troubling, and difficult, to see so many children without a permanent place to call home. This just wasn't right. Every child in our country should lay down to sleep at night in a warm bed, not in sleeping bags in church gym, or worse. As the richest society in the world, we can and must do better than this.

 As I talked to the program director while eating dinner, I saw a portrait of the homeless in our community that flew in the face of preconceptions I've often had over the years. In many cases, these are hard-working parents who either have jobs or want them, and yet they simply don't have the resources to put a roof over their head. While it's easy to associate the homeless with mental illness or substance abuse, many are simply victims of the cruel lack of affordable housing in the Bay Area. It's not uncommon, the program director told me, for two parents to have jobs but be relegated to living out of their cars because their incomes simply can't pay for the sky-high rents in the area. These are people who work hard, play by the rules, and yet are left to live on our streets because of one bad break, or a lack of a safety net when they lose their home to no fault of their own.

As we talked, I couldn't help but become angry thinking about how easily this problem could be solved if only we committed to building sufficient affordable housing in our communities. But as I learned in my years as a journalist, "affordable housing" is an ugly term for many local leaders and residents who associate it with crime, blight and lowered property values. The fight for affordable housing appears to be no match for the power of NIMBYism and self-interest.

It's a shame that those who so vigorously fight any attempt to bring affordable or low-income housing into their communities don't see first-hand the results of their actions: families living in cars, or in tents in church gymnasiums. I wonder if they experienced what I experienced during the Winter Nights program, might they have a change of heart?

Maybe, maybe not. As I've seen with so many social issues lately, people tend to form their facts around what they already believe, rather than the other way around. And the sad truth is that in so many arenas, from gun violence to immigration to climate change, ideology has trumped compassion and pragmatism.

Then again, there's no better way to instigate action than to put a human face on a problem. And if the reality of children sleeping in tents because we're afraid that creating more housing will inconvenience our quality of life isn't enough to wake people up, I'm not sure what will.

Twenty years after Columbine, we all need to look in the mirror

“It is a time to act in the Congress, in your State and local legislative body and, above all, in all of our daily lives. ... Those who do nothing are inviting shame, as well as violence. Those who act boldly are recognizing right, as well as reality.”

In 1963, President John F. Kennedy went on national television to implore every American to act to finally end the scourge of racial discrimination and segregation that infected American society. The words he spoke then echo just as loudly today and speak just as forcefully to the scourge of gun violence that has been allowed to grow into a national stain and take countless lives.

And those words also provide cause for some soul-searching by all of us on this day marking the 20th anniversary of the Columbine massacre that ushered in the "mass shooting" era and generation.

Kennedy's words 56 years ago weren't just a belated call to action for political leaders in Washington, D.C. and in Southern capitols. It was a call to action for every American -- including implicitly himself -- who had long looked the other way to the evils of racial discrimination and segregation. The reference in his speech to "above all, in all our daily lives" made clear that it was foremost the responsibility of every American to combat this epidemic and be part of the change. His admonition that "those who do nothing are inviting shame, as well as violence" was a powerful statement that inaction amounted to complicity in this evil that steadily ate away at the fabric of the nation.

It was a call to action he reinforced later in the speech when he said the problem of racial discrimination "must be solved in the homes of every American in every community across our country." Today, the same can and should be said about the problem of gun violence and, indeed, all forms of emotional and physical violence that impact our youth and other vulnerable members of society.

When the Columbine massacre occurred, it shook the nation to its core because it represented an unprecedented escalation of mass violence into the halls of our schools. Nearly two decades later, these mass shootings are met with brief bursts of outrage (as well as "thoughts and prayers") but little shock, because we've all become accustomed to them, and to even expect them.

For those of who remember Columbine, it's hard to fathom how and why such a horrific event ever could have become routine in our society. What if, as a nation, we all had said "Enough!" and "Never Again!" on April 20, 1999, in the same way that the students of Parkland, Florida, and throughout the country, are doing today? What if instead of simply pinning the blame on the NRA, mental illness, bullying, poor parenting, a violent culture or do-nothing politicians in Washington, we had all engaged in actions in our daily lives to confront the gun culture, pass common-sense legislation, provide better security and mental health counseling services for our schools, and created a more nurturing, caring society?

Would the results have been similar to what happened in Australia after a 1996 mass shooting there that killed 35. That country took bold action, and it has had NOT ONE mass shooting since. In the United States, on the other hand, 226,000 students have experienced gun violence at school in the 20 years since Columbine, according to data compiled by the Washington Post.

This country chose to do mostly nothing, or even worse, we made it even easier for our children to be slaughtered on the streets and in movie theaters and schools. We allowed the national assault-rifle ban (a ban that data show conclusively decreased mass slaughters in the country) to expire. We allowed the NRA to gain even more influence over our politicians and our society, and to pass scores of laws that made it even easier for dangerous people to get their hands on weapons of mass violence. And following the outrage that accompanied each mass shooting, we went back as quickly as possible to business as usual.

I recall a Facebook post after Donald Trump's inauguration urging people to join "the resistance" by donating to advocacy groups fighting his dangerous agenda, whether it was pro-choice, environmental or immigrant-rights groups. Amid the flurry of organizations people suggested, I saw not one that advocated for common-sense gun safety laws. How quickly we forget the latest massacre.

Many of us, including myself, are inspired by the brave leadership teenagers throughout this country are now showing in confronting this epidemic head-on. It's tempting to wonder how history might have changed had the survivors of Columbine done the same 20 years ago, but that would be grossly unfair. They were kids who had experienced a form of grief and trauma most of us could only imagine. It wasn't their job to lead a social and political movement; they had every reason to believe we adults would do that.

We failed them. And as we look back on what happened 20 years ago, we should not only feel grief for the lives lost that day -- we should feel shame for our role in allowing this epidemic to grow and fester to this day.

My vote for the 10 greatest Star Wars moments ever

To mark the release of the 10th Star Wars film ("Solo") on in a few weeks, I've decided to summon the "Force" (i.e. my inner Star Wars nerd) to come up with my picks for the franchise's 10 greatest film moments. If nothing else, I'm sure this will spark some spirited debate amid fellow Star Wars aficionados (or, as some call us, geeks who never grew up) and provide a welcome break for anyone tired of my political diatribes.

While you'll find that, not surprisingly, most of these moments come from the original trilogy (1977-83), you may be disappointed, or even shocked, to see that the dreaded prequels (1999-2005) were not completely shut out (relax, Jar Jar Binks didn't make the cut). And a spoiler alert: My top three moments all come from "The Empire Strikes Back," widely considered by critics and hard-core fans alike the greatest movie in the history of the franchise. Arguing that the top three from the entire series all come from one film (and the darkest film at that) certainly won't go over well with some, but hey, if you don't like it, come up with your own list! ☺

You'll also find that although Star Wars is largely about, well, war,  I focused less than might have been expected on the the battles, lightsaber duels and accompanying special effects that largely provided the thrill-ride engine of the franchise. I always found its heart and soul in the modern mythology it crafted around its characters and their shared heroes' journey, and my list focuses mostly on that aspect of the movies.

So without further delay, strike the drum roll, and let the John Williams fanfare begin. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away....

10. "And I will not be the last Jedi" ("The Last Jedi" 2017)

No film in the history of the franchise has left true fans as conflicted as Episode VIII, and if you don't believe me on that, just check out the Rotten Tomatoes scores. So it's fitting I start my list with a moment that seems to contradict the movie's very title. Critics mostly loved "Last Jedi," fans largely lamented it. I felt the same conflict. Upon seeing it the first time, I came away somewhat disappointed. But as Obi-Wan Kenobi taught us all a long time ago, "your eyes can deceive you." When I viewed it a second time (and trusted my feelings), I found a depth in the movie that had initially escaped me. That depth was best captured in the climactic showdown between Luke Skywalker and Kylo Ren, which is more a battle of wits and words than lightsabers. The circle is made complete, and Luke schools and humbles Kylo in much the same fashion Yoda did to him all those years earlier (more on that later).

9. "You were my brother, Anakin!" ("Revenge of the Sith" 2005)

I easily could have excluded the prequels altogether, with nary a complaint, but I decided this was the one scene that belonged. "Revenge of the Sith," despite problems of its own, did as much as could be expected to pick up the pieces from the disappointments of "Phantom Menace" (sterile and flat) and "Attack of the Clones" (whiny and sappy), thanks in large part to the dramatic flourish of Obi-Wan Kenobi's anguished outburst at having lost his beloved protege to the dark side of the Force. Obi-Wan's victory in the lightsaber duel is indeed pyrrhic as he comes to terms with his failure as Anakin's Skywalker's Jedi master. It was a shame that Ewan McGregor (as well as Natalie Portman) was not given the opportunity to realize his extensive acting talents in these movies, but this scene at least gave us a glimpse. 

8. The death of Han Solo ("The Force Awakens" 2015)

I admit that this scene initially left me disappointed, and it was one of the few criticisms I had with the splendid "The Force Awakens." It was not the fact that our favorite Corellian smuggler finally bit the dust; I had seen that coming since Harrison Ford had tried and failed to get George Lucas to kill off his character way back in "Return of the Jedi." I knew Han Solo would die in this movie; I had just expected him to go out in his own brash, fearless way, at the time and place of his choosing, much as Obi-Wan had gone out in "A New Hope," maybe with a grin and a wink. I had expected more grandeur and symbolism to accompany the passing of such a pivotal and beloved character. But in time, I came to appreciate this scene on its own terms. We got to see the once-selfish smuggler evolve into a loving father who tried, and ultimately failed, to save his son from darkness. Watching the odds finally catch up with Han in such an unexpectedly gut-wrenching way cements this as one of the franchise's most memorable moments. 

7. "Tell your sister you were right" ("Return of the Jedi" 1983)

For most of us, the climactic chapter of the original trilogy, "Return of the Jedi," failed to reach the heights of the first two installments in the series. For me, it was a good, but not great, ending to the defining cinematic experience of my childhood. While the first two movies inspired and often mesmerized, this one, for the most part, simply entertained. And then there were the Ewoks (a discussion better left to another time). This was the one scene, however, that truly rose to the occasion (though I wonder if it would have been even greater in the hands of Irvin Kershner, the maestro who had directed "The Empire Strikes Back"). It's what we had all been waiting six years for, the victory of good over evil, both in a galaxy far, far away and in the heart and soul of a boy and his father. As Darth Vader (now Anakin Skywalker) at last looks on his son with his own eyes, he makes one final request before breathing his last: To share a message with the daughter he never knew, even as he had chased her across the galaxy. It was a poignant bookend to an unforgettable saga. 

6. "Remember, The Force will be with you, always" ("A New Hope" 1977)

While this may seem like the greatest battle moment of the film that started it all, I see it as also one of the saga's greatest spiritual moments. It actually provides a great contrast to the rousing dog fighting sequences that gripped the audience for roughly 10 minutes during the daring attack on the Death Star. For a few seconds, Ben Burtt's magical sound effects of laser blasts, beeping droids and screeching starships fade away. John Williams' soaring score settles into a soft melody. All seems to grow quiet in Luke's X-wing fighter as a singular voice guides him toward his destiny and plants in the entire franchise its spiritual roots. "Let go, Luke ... Use The Force." When Luke finally summons the mystical Force to destroy the Death Star and save the galaxy, he hears the words that will define his journey for the remainder of the Star Wars saga. I know some people will think this should be higher on the list, maybe even No. 1. 

5. "Your father would have been proud of you" ("Rogue One" 2016)

In my mind, "Rogue One" (the only standalone Star Wars story to date) is the most underrated, and poignant, movie in the franchise's history. It's also unique in being the only movie in which the heroes die (sorry if that's a spoiler, but if you haven't seen the movie by now, you probably never will). One of the criticisms of the original trilogy is that Lucas refused to kill off any of the three main stars (despite Ford's pleading); that certainly wasn't a problem in this film. As the set-up story for the original film, there was no reason that any of the protagonists who stole the Death Star plans that we first read about in the crawl for "A New Hope" would live to fight another day (otherwise, we would have seen them all 40 years ago). That made the final heartfelt exchange between off-and-on-again allies Jyn Erso and Cassian Endor on the beach of Scarif particularly touching and dramatic. With Michael Giachinno's riveting score as the backdrop, the two embrace on the beach as they count their final moments before the Death Star blast destroys the planet and them with it. Jyn's father, the unwilling architect of the Empire's planet destroyer, had entrusted its fatal flaw with his daughter before his death, and now she has done her duty and passed the baton to those who will take up the fight in "A New Hope." The quiet, somber gaze the two heroes share as the nuclear-like blast inches closer speaks volumes, even before Cassian says softly, "Your father would have been proud."

4. The medal ceremony ("A New Hope" 1977)

This is the only scene on my list that includes no dialogue, which may help explain what made it so great (sorry, George Lucas, but the Force wasn't always with your dialogue-writing skills). It also encapsulates why the original movie captured the public's imagination like no film before or since. "A New Hope" was more than a story of good triumphing over evil. It was an intergalactic story of David slaying Goliath, and it came along at a time when the public desperately needed a feel-good underdog tale to escape all the darkness and despair (sound familiar?) that the 1970s had come to symbolize (Watergate, Vietnam, economic malaise, serial killings and fashion fiascoes, but we did have the "Brady Bunch"!). The climax of the movie in which the farm boy, the smuggler and the princess are filled with pure joy at their unlikely triumph still provides an adrenaline rush no matter how many times I see it (even if the wookie had to wait 20 years to finally get his medal). The feisty, icy princess lets her hair down (literally) and melts the screen with her smile, the rogue flashes her a wink that teases of things to come, and the budding Jedi falls victim to the the childlike giddiness that so many people wanted to recapture in their own lives when they saw this movie. This scene without words summed up the surreal, visceral experience of falling in love with Star Wars. 

3. "You like me because I'm a scoundrel" ("The Empire Strikes Back" 1980)

I have a bad feeling about this pick, like it's going to be met with the type of backlash befitting a nerf herder. It's not even ranked as the best Han and Leia moment in one official list. And some might argue that their tension-tinged romance was nothing but a cute, quirky diversion to help pass the time while the fate of the galaxy played out in the hands of a father, his son and the Force. All I can say is that I simply love everything about this scene! I'll admit that I'm a sucker for a good romance, and some occasional tortured dialogue notwithstanding, this is one of the greatest in film history, for my money. Plus, for Star Wars nerds, this is as close as we'd ever get to turning any of the films into a date movie. The build-up in "Empire" to the duel between Luke and Vader is nearly equaled by the buildup to "the kiss." Sure, you can see it coming through all the quips and insults the two exchange through the first movie and a half, but when the moment finally arrives, it's tender, touching and perfect. As far as why I put this ahead of the "I Love You/I Know" exchange later in the movie, I think that was but the frosting to the cake that this scene baked. Leia could withstand Vader's torture with nerves of steel, but she's finally worn down by this scoundrel's charms, particularly when she opens the door for him with the "scoundrel" comment. We finally see what we've always known about her; she's no intergalactic Disney princess waiting for Prince Charming to show up in a glistening starship. Even with C-3PO's unfortunate timing, that kiss seemed frozen in time (if not for a deleted scene, it would have lasted even longer). 

2. "That is why you fail" ("The Empire Strikes Back" 1980)

For all its hypnotic qualities, the original Star Wars film ("A New Hope") was a pretty straightforward, and somewhat superficial, story of good and evil. To the degree that the mystical Force came into play, it was largely to help move the story along, rather than constituting its core, and left us with more questions than answers. It was "Empire" that truly turned Star Wars into a religiously mythological experience, and it was the spirituality embodied by a green gnome named Yoda that gave the movie -- indeed, the entire series -- the depth and stature that came to define it. In a few short scenes, Yoda conveys the spiritual hungering that lies at the root of the human condition (and the world's great faith-based traditions), and teaches us why religious faith in our own world can be a source of great good -- or evil when it falls victim to fear, anger and hate. When Luke's faith in "The Force" (or God, as it may represent to some) falters, Yoda provides a humbling lesson with a miraculous act. It's Moses parting the Red Sea or Jesus raising Lazareth from the dead. Like so many heroes in human history, Luke Skywalker learns that doubt and failure often produce the speed bumps on the road to triumph and greatness. This scene transforms Star Wars from fantasy to true mythology.

1. "No, I am your father" ("The Empire Strikes Back" 1980)

I was 9 years old when I heard those words. The shock I and everyone else in the theater felt is something I will never forget. Like the pained expression of horror on Luke's face, none of us could make sense of what we had just heard, and none of us could accept it. I think we all uttered in our minds the same words that Luke spoke aloud on the screen. "No, no, that's not true! That's impossible!" Alas, we all had to search our feelings over the summer of 1980 to try to discern what to believe. Our hearts kept telling us no, but even the mind of a 9-year-old couldn't deny the truth that lay at the heart of Darth Vader's pronouncement. We'd all have to wait an excruciating three years to learn for sure, and by the time the confirmation finally came in the trilogy's flawed third chapter, it seemed somehow anticlimactic to a now 12-year-old who had just watched Princess Leia slay Jabba the Hutt while clad in a metal bikini.  But this was the blindsiding, I-never-saw-it-coming moment that made the movie -- indeed, the entire franchise -- a cinematic masterpiece. Sadly, future generations that would have to suffer through the clunky, stale prequels would never get to experience the pure shock that made this the greatest Star Wars moment ever (one more reason to hate the prequels!). No Star Wars movie before or since would muster another moment that achieved this level of greatness.

What I learned about Hillary Clinton from reading her book

Hillary Clinton was back in the news recently for offending half the country because she had the gall to state a fact about the 2016 election in a speech in India. "I won the places that represent two-thirds of America's gross domestic product," she said. "So I won the places that are optimistic, diverse, dynamic, moving forward. And his whole campaign, 'Make America Great Again,' was looking backwards."
Given the media reaction and accompanying backlash, you would have thought it was the "deplorables" comment redux. I'm sure Trump lovers find this infinitely more outrageous than their beloved leader describing the immigrant issue in the context of "shithole" countries. 

Sometimes, the truth hurts (and matters a whole lot more than the never-ending lies that emanate from the mouth of the person who defeated her in the election despite winning 3 million fewer votes). 

Given the latest uproar (or much ado about nothing), I thought this would be a good chance to offer some observations about Clinton and her book, "What Happened," which I read recently.

I don't how much of the book was written by Clinton herself, but whoever was responsible for penning it, it was one of the most insightful, gripping nonfiction narratives I've come across in recent years. Rarely does a book leave me engrossed from start to finish, and I never imagined that a book written by and about Hillary Clinton would rise to that level. While I wholeheartedly supported her candidacy over Trump, I also viewed her as a flawed and less-than-inspiring candidate. I'm not the biggest Clinton (Bill or Hillary) fan in the world for a number of reasons, but I did think she was eminently qualified to be president, and genuinely would have tried to bring the country together and find common-sense solutions to complex problems.

While the book was obviously written from her point of view, with no opportunity for those she criticized to respond, I thought she made a number of compelling arguments about how she was treated unfairly -- even cruelly -- by the media, the public and her opponents. But more than that, the book provided some fascinating insights into her life, her values and her beliefs that I thought I would share here, along with some quotes that particularly stood out.

 Clinton's Christian faith is an important part of her life. 

Unlike the man who overwhelmingly won the evangelical Christian vote, Hillary seems to genuinely be a person whose religious faith plays a central role in her life. She spent much time in the book talking about her Methodist upbringing, the ministers who counseled her and the prayers she recited. She even acknowledged that much of the public would probably be skeptical of this aspect of her life (which also brings up an interesting question about why the role that religion plays in the lives of liberal politicians tends to be ignored, whether by the media, the public or the politicians themselves, while conservatives wear it as a badge of honor, even when it's largely a fake badge).

“I prayed a lot. I can almost see the cynics rolling their eyes. But pray I did, as fervently as I can remember ever doing. … I prayed for help to put the sadness and disappointment of my defeat behind me; to stay hopeful and openhearted rather than becoming cynical and bitter; and to find a new purpose and start a new chapter, so that the rest of my life wouldn’t be spent like Miss Havisham from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, rattling around my house obsessing over what might have been.”

And I wonder if Trump -- or most evangelical voters -- could have named this verse from scripture the way she did during this campaign stop.

"In late May 2015, I was campaigning in Columbia, South Carolina. In between events, we squeezed in a quick stop at the Main Street Bakery so I could get a cupcake and shake some hands. There was only one customer in the place, an older African American gentleman sitting alone by the window, engrossed in a book. I was reluctant to disturb him, but we made eye contact. I walked over to say hello and ask what he was reading. The man looked up and said, ‘First Conrinthians 13’ I smiled. ‘Love is patient, love is kind,’ I said, ‘it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.’

His name was Donnie Hunt, and he was a minister at the First Calvary Baptist Church, getting ready for the day’s Bible study. He invited me to sit down.

He told me how rewarding he found it to read these familiar lines again and again. ‘You’ always learn something,’ he said.

‘Well, it’s alive,’ I replied. ‘It’s the living word.’ "

And I found this particularly uplifting and inspiring:

“A few weeks after the election, I picked up a copy of a sermon called ‘You Are Accepted,’ by Paul Tillich, the Christian theologian of the mid-twentieth century. I remembered sitting in my church basement in Park Ridge years ago as our youth minister, Don James, read it to us. 'Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness...Sometimes at that moment, a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying, ‘You are accepted.’ Years later, when my marriage was in crisis, I called Don. Read Tillich, he said. I did. It helped.”

She makes a compelling argument for why the media and public have been unfair to her

Clinton has often been portrayed as unwilling to acknowledge her own faults and flaws. In this book, she admits those mistakes and shortcomings on multiple occasions, but she also argues convincingly that the portrayals of her during her life, particularly by the media, failed to capture the full story of her life and career. As someone who spent his career as a journalist, I have to say she makes a legitimate point here.

“The truth is, everyone’s flawed. That’s the nature of human beings. But our mistakes alone shouldn’t define us. We should be judged by the totality of our work and life. Many problems don’t have either/or answers, and a good decision today may not look as good 10 or 20 years later through the lens of new conditions. When you’re in politics, this gets more complicated. We all want -- and the political press demands -- a ‘story line,’ which tends to cast people as either saints or sinners. You’re either revered or reviled. And there’s no juicier political story than the saint who gets unmasked as a sinner. A two-dimensional cartoon is easier to digest than a fully formed person.”

And she is particularly harsh in her criticism of the New York Times, which is interesting given how the far right often characterizes it as a tool of liberalism.

“Over the years, going all the way back to the baseless Whitewater inquisition, it’s’ seemed as if many of those in charge of political coverage at the New York Times have viewed me with hostility and skepticism. They’e applied what’s sometimes called, ‘The Clinton Rules.’ … As a result, a lot of journalists see their job as exposing the devious machinations of the secretive Clinton machine. The Times has by no means been the only -- or even the worst -- offender, but it’s treatment has stung the most.”

She had some interesting things to say about her marriage

I didn't expect much from her about her marriage with Bill in the book, and she didn't offer much, but what she did offer was insightful -- and inspiriting to anyone who experiences dark days of struggle in their own marriage.

“We’ve certainly had dark days in our marriage. You know all about them -- and please consider for a moment what it would be like for the whole world to know about the worst moments in your relationship. There were times that I was deeply unsure about whether our marriage could or should survive. But on those days, I asked myself the question that matters most to me. ‘Do I still love him?’ And can I still be in this marriage without becoming unrecognizable to myself -- twisted by anger, resentment, or remoteness?’ The answers were always yes. So I kept going.”

She gives some great practical advice for engaging in politics and voting wisely

Conscious of the devastating role that lies, misinformation and echo-chamber thinking played in the 2016 election, Clinton points out that the best way to avoid these pitfalls going forward is to educate ourselves, think critically, keep an open mind, and not get discouraged.

“It’s up to each one of us to stay informed and make good decisions with rigorous reasoning and real deliberation. This is especially important when it comes to voting. Choose wisely and don’t fall for scams. The same way you try to be careful about where you put your money or the car you buy, be careful and informed with your vote. And we all have the ability to break out of our echo chambers and engage with people who don’t agree with us politically. We can keep an open mind and be willing to change our minds from time to time. Even if our outreach is rebuffed, it’s worth it to keep trying. We’re all going to share our American future together -- better to do so with open hearts and outstretched hands than closed minds and clenched fists.”

She also makes a special plea for people to get involved politically in their communities, which particularly hits home with me:

“Local issues are every bit as important as national and global ones. If you see a problem in your community that needs fixing or an injustice that needs correcting, and you think, ‘Someone ought to do something about that,’ guess what? That someone could easily be you. Show up at a city council or school board meeting and suggest a solution. If a problem is affecting your life, it’s probably affecting someone else’s -- and that person might just be willing to join you."

She both apologizes for and defends the "deplorables" comment

Clinton's biggest mistake during the campaign is typically considered the comment she made saying that Trump's supporters could be placed into two baskets, one of which were the deplorables who preach hate, racism, sexism, you name it. While it may not have been politically wise, the fact is that it was accurate based on everything we've seen and know, and this is how she addressed it in the book.

“I know that a lot of well-intentioned people were insulted because they misunderstood me to be criticizing all Trump voters. I’m sorry about that. But too many of Trump’s core supporters do hold views that I find -- there’s no other word for it -- deplorable. And while I’m sure a lot of Trump supporters had fair and legitimate reasons for their choice, it is an uncomfortable and unavoidable fact that everyone who voted for Donald Trump -- all 62,984,825 of them -- made the decision to elect a man who bragged about sexual assault, attacked a federal judge for being Mexican and grieving Gold Star parents who were Muslim, and has a long and well-documented history of racial discrimination in his businesses. That doesn’t mean that every Trump voter approved of those things, but at a minimum they accepted or overlooked them. And they did it without the demanding the basics that Americans used to expect from all presidential candidates, from releasing tax returns to offering substantive policy proposals to upholding common standards of decency.”

She has a great story to share for kids who experience bullying

Clinton talks at length about the role her mother played in her life, and it's clear that Dorothy Rodham was Hillary's greatest inspiration in life.

“There was a time when I was very little, and a neighborhood bully started pushing me around. I ran home to hide, but my mother met me at the door. ‘There’s no room for cowards in this house,’ she said. ‘Go back out there.’ The walk from my front door back to the street was one of the longest of my life. But I went. Mom, was right as usual.”

It's haunting how many vicious lies were spread about her, and how many believed them

Perhaps this is what as most deplorable about the 2016 election.

“Throughout the 2016 campaign, I watched how lies insinuate themselves into people’s brains if hammered often enough. Fact checking is powerless to stop it. Friends of mine who made calls or knocked on doors for me would talk to people who said they couldn’t’ vote for me because I had killed someone, sold drugs, and committed any number of unreported crimes, including how I handled my emails. The attacks were repeated so frequently that many people took it as an article of faith that I must have dome something wrong.”

She dismisses the idea that Democrats need to shift their priorities based on her loss

There's been a lot of debate within the Democratic Party over the past year about whether they need to do more to appeal to white working-class workers, even if it means pulling back from some of the issues around social justice that have become the party's hallmark in recent years. She clearly sees this as a false choice. I agree. The Democrats' problem isn't a failure to advocate policies that would benefit the white working class; it's a failure to explain to the white working class why and how these policies would help them.

“Democrats have to continue championing civil rights, human rights, and other issues that are part of our march toward a more perfect union. We shouldn’t sacrifice our principles to pursue a shrinking pool of voters who look more to the past than to the future.”

She makes an interesting comment about the politics of abortion

This is something many Democrats believe, and will utter in books, but are scared to death to say on the campaign trail for fear of alienating the extreme wing of the pro-choice movement (the same way that Republicans who believe in common-sense gun laws dare not alienate the NRA). I've said before that I think she lost a lot of critical votes in Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin because of her unwillingness to adopt the measured position her husband took in 1992 (that abortion should be safe, legal and rare). I think if she would have spoken these words on the campaign trail, she might have won those decisive states.

“And to be clear, I believe there’s room in our party for a wide range of personal views on abortion. I’ve been working with Democrats and Republicans alike to reduce the number of abortions, in part by expanding access to birth control and family planning, and we’ve made progress. And I picked as my running mate Tim Kaine, a Democrat personally opposed to abortion because of his Catholic faith but supportive of women’s rights as a matter of law and policy.”

And finally, she makes a compelling argument about why it will take a "village" to make America great

I've come to believe that the root of many of the problems in this country is the unwillingness and failure of so many people to engage in caring for and helping the larger community, and their fellow humans, succeed. There is a disturbing lack of empathy among so many who seem to only care about their own lives and whether they can get ahead, regardless of what's happening to the world and people around them (never more evident than in the appalling lack of action following mass shootings). Whatever you think of Hillary Clinton as a politician or a leader, after reading this book, I have no doubt that she truly wants America to become the "village" she wrote about 20 years ago where American look after not just themselves, but each other.

“We all need each other, none of us is an island, an autonomous and independent ‘I,’ separated from the other, and we can only build the future of standing together, including everyone.” Tenderness “means to use our eyes to see the other, our ears to hear the other, to listen to the children, the poor, those who are afraid of the future.”