Edit: Why I’m the Last Millennial to Not Use Tinder

When it comes to mistakes, I’m turning away from self-blaming and toward self-loving.

Sometimes, we make mistakes. We aren’t perfect. We aren’t without flaw. We are human. How often do we allow ourselves to work through those mistakes with love?

I rarely ever have. I’ve most recently shared with you all my second published article. Unbeknownst to me, there was a typo in the title. I am not of Generation X, and while the title of the piece was first published as, “Why I’m the Last Non-Tinder User of Generation X,” it now accurately reads ‘millennial.’ On behalf of elephant journal and for my own credibility, learning and self-forgiveness, it required an accurate change.

Am I going to beat myself up over it? For a minute, I wanted to. I thought about all of the times I reread my article, all of the anal fact-checking I do and how this one slipped, and all of the people who proof-read or heard me speak the title who didn’t catch the error either.

Alas, a lesson in self-love and letting go of harsh, unhealthy tendencies. The edit is now published, and I thank you all for reading it anyway!

This holiday weekend, I sit deeply in my self-love and I hug myself just a little bit tighter.

Why I’m the Last Millennial to Not Use Tinder,” in full force. Check it out, but regardless, I encourage a squeeze of self-TLC. When was the last time you gave yourself a hug?

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Why I’m the Last Millennial to Not Use Tinder

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Previously published by elephant journal at https://www.elephantjournal.com/. The original article can be found here.


 

I have often entertained a fantasy of what love and companion searching might be like in the future.

Perhaps in 20 years or so, what my future children will experience, if they’re anything like me (good luck, kids), will be seeking companionship deeply and truly among a sea full of seemingly screen-preoccupied, out-of-tune-with-their-emotions, robot humans who fuel-fix via a glowing display where likes replace love, followers succeed friendships, and hashtags take the place of life-guiding principles.

I envision this a future where the screen plague is even more prominent, pervasive, and culturally normative than today—so much so that all my future, love-seeking children will have to do is have the courage to look up. And one day, somewhere, they’ll find themselves shockingly locked eyes with another brave, peeking soul, and boom. Cue Drake’s, “Now you’re talking my language, now you’re talking my language.”

In a future where most have nurtured and catered their addiction to this liquid-crystal-display hole, it will be easy to seek out the minority—those choosing the alternative, interpersonal path; those seeking that deeply nourishing off-screen soul connection.

But alas, the LCD-addiction that consumes so much of my generation has not reached this peak yet. (Or has it?) I am living in a sea of screens, yes—but technology, while sprouting and advancing like invasive bamboo, is still a young adolescent figuring out its place in our world while we millennials search for our place in it.

Technology offers advantages we’ve never known before—I would be lying if I said I didn’t value it, didn’t depend on it daily for directions, use it to fulfill my blog-writing dreams, or to stay connected with my family across the country. Not to mention posting hilariously punny, four-part Snapchats of my cooking and the occasional try-hard video of me singing. (Hope you all enjoy those.)

But as far as dating goes—can’t it just be this organic, beautiful thing where we meet and know from the instance of a great, intellectual, and passionate conversation that we are in alignment and want to taste all of life together? Not in like a forever way, per se, but in a way that there are so many amazing things to try and see and experience, and why shouldn’t we be trying, seeing, and experiencing all that deliciousness with someone we’re vibrating high beside?

Okay, maybe I’m romanticizing things again. Guilty. Also, maybe I’m just an old soul, not tech-savvy Taurus who sees inexplicable purpose in partnership and loyalty. Guilty, again. Arrest me, love police.

I’m also a little flighty, I don’t like commitment right away, and am not a gal for the one-night fling. So how to navigate this dating and love-mating world for someone like me?

There exists a three-part rationale against my joining Tinder (or Bumble or something of the sort):

1. It’s inorganic. Call me close-minded and stubborn—I’ve got it in my head that the person for me is also one of the last people not on Tinder and trying to meet someone the old-fashioned way too.

2. Signing up feels like committing or setting an intention to “find” someone. I’m leading a single life right now, full of all the self-loving I’ve missed out on, and I don’t want to actively try to find a partner to fill some void of loneliness. If I’m meant to find someone, the two of us will find each other without trying too hard…right? And if not to find a romantic companion per se, but to find something a bit more carefree and less emotionally intimate—well, I’m just not the one fulfilled by pure physicality.

3. The information on these platforms can oftentimes be skewed. If I were to sign up, my online profile, with carefully chosen pictures of myself, would 100 percent say something like, “Lover of love, poems, and being naked in nature; looking for a spiritual, passionate, conversational, and romantic partner to explore life with.” And while all true things, my profile would saying nothing about how some days I don’t shave, wear makeup, or brush my hair, am cranky AF, am going to want to be alone, will forget why/that I even like you, am not great at speaking my mind, stare into space a lot, and will forget much of what you say at first.

Yet here we are, in a day and age where we all know someone who has happily met their significant other on one of these online dating platforms. (We’ve all heard the horror stories, too, but let’s swipe them aside for the moment.)

Technology is an inevitable part of our present culture and world—and the dating, meeting people, and courting process is undeniably evolving with its influence. This technology world makes it easier to meet people now more than ever, so long as you’re participating in it.

So what is one tech-challenged, sapiosexual, deep-connection-yearning millennial to do? How do we connect with someone organically, in a world of people always staring down, working remotely from laptops, Uber-ing to destinations instead of taking public transport, and taking pictures in place of taking time to get to know someone?

I don’t have the answer. Maybe it’s time for me to get with the times and participate on a platform specifically for conscious dating, after all. Or maybe I just need to keep looking up.

But until that pair of eyes locks mine, I’ll see you all on Snapchat, my blog, and Instagram.

Xo,

Single girl in a cell phone world.
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Author: Olivia Morrissey
Image: Deveney Williams  
Editor: Taia Butler
Copy Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Social Editor: Callie Rushton

Mansplaining Yields Healing

Mansplain, verb: (of a man) explain (something) to someone, typically a woman, in a manner regarded as condescending or patronizing
(Source: English Oxford Living Dictionaries)

Last night, at a client event for my internship, I found a chocolate fountain. I couldn’t resist dipping a second stick of extra-puffed marshmallows under the melting deliciousness, and I paid for it by staining my white top.

With an escape to the restroom and quick wardrobe innovation involving my kimono-shawl knot-styled to cover the mess, I was right back to find my girlfriends (the ones whom I had originally left for the chocolate fountain).

I approached them with a how-ridiculous-does-this-knot-look hand motion and skeptical facial expression inquiry, to which a nearby male interjected, “You look great, that looks awesome.

“It’s her outfit,” nodding at my friend, “we were making fun of.”

His initial comment was telling enough– despite the event’s complimentary Prosecco (or maybe because of it) our two energies were not aligning.

“What’s wrong with her outfit?” I snapped. Besides nothing. My comment was a misfire however, considering he ignored it to continue talking at me and in my direction:

“I have to say I’m not a fan of that necklace though. Maybe because I’m a guy, I don’t know.

“But you know girls only wear necklaces like that to impress other girls, right? You know that’s the only reason why girls do that, right??”

“Are you trying to tell me what I may or may not be doing intentionally?”

“I mean it’s not for us guys, it’s for each other, you must know.”

Is this what that socioculturally-derived 21st century term mansplaining was all about?

“No, no,” I interjected.

“Are you telling me, as a man, about something that my entire sex supposedly does? Are you trying to mansplain to me my own intention behind wearing this necklace?”

The complimentary Prosecco was getting me a little bit feisty, and I knew my new rooftop-friend wasn’t prepared to get such backlash.

Mansplaining,” he scoffed.  “Yeah– yeah, I was mansplaining!” he retorted back, matter-of-factly.

With a Champagne flute in hand and a knotted-kimono covering my chocolate stain, the words well don’t flew off the tip of my tongue, spicy and sharp, and I glared into his eyes until he got the hint and turned away. I faced my new friends, almost uneasy about how they might handle my moment of fiery spirit. They thanked me, and we continued laughing and dancing about.

Though we had moved on, the man came up to me minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” he said, passing by.

“Thank you,” I said curtly.

It was my turn to speak matter-of-factly.


I share this story as a reflection on the way I could have better handled this situation. I got the man to apologize, yes, but aside from temporary egotistical victory, what good is that really?

Sans the mind-alternation of the complimentary beverages, I could have helped this man see that his insight was not only unsolicited, but unjustified and even condescending.

That maybe, this was my favorite necklace and I wasn’t wearing it for anyone but me, regardless of a male or female audience.

And that at the core of it all, he wasn’t speaking from a loving place, or to me as his equal. I could have agreed that he had every right to have his own opinion, but shared that his extended, entitled, so-claimed awareness over a population of humans whose experiences he could never empathize with was unjust and unfair and even ignorant.

And if I could have connected with him and helped him understand that in a calm and loving manner, I could have engaged in healing with just one person; healing that would ripple in his future engagements and in mine, too.

I reflect back on this interaction last night as a lesson of mine in patience and boundless love. A lesson in embracing courage and speaking my truth yes, but doing so in a kind, constructive and empathetic manner.

It appears to me that with every pained, frustrating or instigating experience, there is an opportunity for healing. Life will continue to present us with chances for healing, though they don’t often show up beautifully upon the first glance. I am learning to pay attention to the triggers, for they are some of my best teachers in this healing journey.

I hope we meet again, rooftop party friend. Because next time we do, I’ll be wearing one of my many flashy necklaces, and I will welcome you with a hug– or at least a cheers to healing.

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@Goodgrateful: The beautiful nature-mirrors that aided in my reflection the following morning. La Jolla, California.

The Great American Road Trip: Part 4

In the spirit of Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday this week, we proceed on the Great American Road Trip from sweet, flashing Nashville, to the entirely magical NOLA.

New Orleans, L.A.

My first trip to New Orleans, Louisiana, had me head-spun, swamp-enamored, voodoo-entranced and quite possibly considering ending the cross-country road trip early and setting up shop. It was in all senses delightfully overwhelming and magical. A melting pot concoction of culture seeps from the city’s every crack, crevice and corner, and my anthropology loving mind was absorbing it all like a sponge.

New Orleans, a province of colonial Spain sandwiched between two periods of French rule, retains traces of around-the-world today as it exists as part of the U.S. under the 1803 Louisiana purchase. Toss in an incredible amount of African influence and the ever-entrancing voodoo religion, a touch of spicy cuisine and blaring brass bands, and the high-energy, semi-addictive personality types (like my own?) who have come to get a taste of this culture-soup and gotten their feet happily planted in the Louisiana swamp. Now, paint everything with the brightest, most vibrantly cheerful and charming colors and year-round Christmas lights and celebration beads: NOLA.

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Some of the beautiful colors of the Big Easy.
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Valence Cemetery. Much of NOLA is below sea level, so the graveyards are above ground!

 

Our killer weekend in the Big Easy began with nothing other than piles of crawfish at the local NOLA brewery, beautiful art at the NOMA, and even better live music: an intimate show of Arkansas blues-duo Handmade Moments, at the Apple Barrel, a cozy venue that plays live music every night of the week.

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Crawfish at the NOLA Brewery!

City tip: The Apple Barrel bar is located in Marigny, a history-rich, authentic NOLA neighborhood. Live like a local and delve into the area’s delicious food and great music, or, start your night here and make your way down to the French Quarter, where the craziness is only a stroll’s away.

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The madness of Bourbon Street in the French Quarter.

The city embraces an open container law, so our walk to the French Quarter and Bourbon Street was extra warm and enjoyable. Like in Nashville, live music typical of the city sounded from every bar. Some of our quieter moments that night were stumbling upon an open-air artist’s market on Decatur Street and Galerie Rue Royale, a sweet and small art gallery that was bustling even at 9 p.m. on a Friday night.

City tip: The French Market District teems with trinkets, treasures, traditions and tasty treats and makes for a great daytime activity. Don’t forget to get a beignet from Cafe Du Monde: the cafe is famous for the city’s traditional treat of a square of fried dough topped with confectionary sugar. Check out the nearby Mississippi River to imagine the historical trading, importing and exporting that took place in this port city in years prior.

After a night on Bourbon Street, our Saturday in the Big Easy called for a relaxing morning of yoga and wandering through Audubon Park. The low-key day prepped us for dinner at the famous Parkway Bakery and Tavern for what USA Today named “The Best Po’ Boy In Louisiana” in 2016. The Obama’s even made a trip there!

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The best shrimp po’ boy in all of Louisiana at Parkway Bakery and Tavern!

 

 

City tip: Po’ boys originated in New Orleans as free, hearty sandwiches for union workers on strike. It comes from the term, ‘poor boy’, a name that gives insight to the work ethic and conditions of NOLA natives in the 1920s and 30s. Order it dressed– topped with lettuce, tomato, pickles and mayonnaise– to sound like a local!

 

We topped off the best shrimp po’ boy in the state with the best spontaneous performance of NOLA live music one can hope to find: the epic, up-and-coming Tank and the Bangas. An eclectic combination of jazz, soul, funk, folk and extremely high energy, this band is a name to remember. Check their upcoming tour dates to see if this band is performing during your Big Easy visit- you won’t want to miss it.

City tip: Get a better taste of the magic encompassing you in the Big Easy: check out the Historic Voodoo Museum near the French Quarter and gain a deeper understanding of the mysterious religion. The museum is a small, dimly-lit hallway that connects three rooms full of voodoo history, talismans and shrines. The voodoo religion has its roots in Africa and arrived to the U.S. during the time of slavery in the 1800s: a cloud of racism combined with the religion’s lack of scripture and inaccurate Hollywood portrayal all contributes to its mystery and conceptions of evil. In truth, it is benign and empowering like any religion.

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Beautiful architecture in the French Quarter.

There is only one way to end your weekend and Sunday in NOLA. The final adventure capping off your Big easy experience is to witness and partake in a second line parade. Second line parades descend from the city-famous jazz funerals, and usually take place on Sunday afternoons with joyful dancing, brass bands and outrageous uniforms. Today, many organizations perform second line parades, and while for varying reasons and in varying neighborhoods, at any given event you can find locals and tourists alike spilling their open-container drinks, dancing and walking the route.

We danced and paraded with the second line members for miles until our feet ached, our stomaches growled and our cheeks had tightened from laughter. It was time to wrap up our New Orleans adventure and we had one last experience to cross off our city bucket list.

In the spirit of Mardi Gras, we bought a King Cake: traditionally a Christian honor to the three kings and now, a NOLA Mardi Gras favorite. The King Cake comes with a small plastic baby, in which you hide somewhere in the cake. The story goes that the person who receives the slice with the plastic piece in it must throw the next party. We enjoyed our King Cake with some wine and friends on the Mississippi River as the sun went down: our weekend in magical NOLA had us contently partied out.

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An incredibly decorated (and delicious) King Cake!
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Sunset on the Mississippi River.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beneath the captivating surface, locals helped me understand that NOLA was a city of extremes. For every vibrant house, there was a homeless person in the French Quarter asking for a sip of beer. For every victorious band, like Tank and the Bangas, there were the sounds of second line parades that once voiced their aching losses of loved ones. For every tourist that comes sweeping full force into the city to get a taste, there are natural disasters, like flooding and hurricanes, that the area is prone to enduring. For every person that gets sucked into the magic of the swamp, there are people who cannot get out and get un-stuck from the sinking land.

New Orleans was a bursting city, overflowing in every aspect. It wasn’t until our drive out of the swampland to our next destination of Austin, Texas, that I felt a moment of clarity about my heart-set move to San Diego. It was as if I regained consciousness after a trance that had claimed me finally broke– but for a colorful moment there, I had my feet and heart firmly planted in the swampland of NOLA, too.

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Colorful, bustling artwork by talented Deveney Williams Productions. More at deveneywilliams.com.

 

The Great American Road Trip: Part 2

The second stop in my cross-country move to San Diego.

Washington, D.C./ Arlington, V.A.

On January 19, 2017, my babe squad and I collected ourselves from our time in the Big Apple, drove disappointedly through Newark without finding any New Jersey bagels, gained another college best friend on our weekend mission and got settled into to our Arlington home with our incredible host for an empowering next couple of days.

Four of my closest girlfriends were joining me on the first stretch of my cross-country road trip to march on the Capitol for the Women’s March on Washington, the largest demonstration of human rights in history.

The night prior to the march, the babe squad broke out the glitter. And the cardboard, Sharpies and paints.

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@Goodgrateful: One side of the 5 double-sided signs we made for the Women’s March on Washington on January 21, 2017.

 

When Beyoncé’s “Formation” sounded our alarm the morning of January 21, we made ourselves sandwiches and put our game faces on to fight for what we want. Because we very damn well can do both.

My girlfriends and I marched our way into the Capitol and screamed, shouted, cried and danced our way among nearly 500,000 like-minded human rights activists. There was an overwhelming feeling of solidarity and togetherness in the capital of the United States that day.

 

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Four of the five members of the babe squad marching in front of the Washington Monument.

 

Amongst all of the recent fear and heartache infiltrating our media and minds, there was consoling joy in realizing we weren’t alone in being afraid and demanding change. There was a blissful freedom in being surrounded by kind, good-natured, loving individuals who were on our team. Our human, heart-pumping, blood-flowing team.

Marching alongside a record breaking amount of women, men and children gave a sense of hope, happiness and faith in the togetherness that the next four years will demand of us.

There was something magically empowering about utilizing our voices, bodies, passions and devotion to goodness with close, caring girlfriends and thousands of equally-minded strangers. It was a record-setting highly-emotional, highly-charged day in my life, the lives of my good friends and the lives of everyone who participated. We made history that Saturday, and my children and grandchildren will hear about it.

 

 

However, the work has just begun. Despite my cross-country adventures distracting me from the “real-world” and filling my active mind with awe-some people and places, this journey to nationwide goodness and equality will require persistence. Stay tuned into the national organization of Women’s March on Washington for their campaign, 10 Actions in 100 Days to continue our communal efforts for change.

Take 5 minutes out of your day to call your government with the organization, 5 Calls. Their platform is based on the effectiveness of calling our representatives to voice our demands. 5 Calls provides appropriate government phone numbers based on location and offers scripts for those unsure of exactly what to say. We’re already on our phones- let’s take one minute to dial instead of swipe right.

This great American journey has shone light on all of the wondrous people in this country that we’ve been lucky to share time with. From our incredible hosts and hostesses to the strangers that have given us their “locals-only” city tips, to complimentary treats and beverages, to souvenirs and keepsakes, we have been reminded that amongst all of the darknesses brooding, there is still goodness and light everywhere in this world. There is still goodness and light in this country, too. Let’s channel that in ourselves, and let’s bring that out in others we encounter.

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The whole team including blogging flight attendant, artist and photographer @alwaysinairplanemode, @es_jessa and @deveneywilliams, respectively.

 

Check out our talented photographer and videographer friend @DeveneyWilliams, and her capturing of our experience at the march: https://vimeo.com/202389845

Martin Luther King Jr. Day: #WhyIMarch

Today, we celebrate a day that puts the present and future of our country into eye-opening perspective. Today, on the third Monday of January, we celebrate the honorable Martin Luther King Jr. and his fearless efforts to lead a life in pursuit of justice, truth and equality: racial equality.

He has been activists’ and aspiring activists’ role model for more than half a century. His legacy and life has been defined by the utmost courage, service and peaceful action that is still essential in hopes of victory among similar present-day struggles. The work is not done. It is not done for racial equality, sexual and gender equality, religious liberation and equality, for immigrants and those of varying political and socioeconomic backgrounds.

Though there are different forms of fear and violence occurring in face of present-day battles, the plight for racial equality and desegregation during the escalated tensions of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States was met with extreme physical dangers and hostility.

Today, we remember a man who demonstrated exceptionally relentless courage, compassion and most importantly, nonviolence during combat with opponents that presented him with minimal reciprocity.

He dreamed of peace, healing and community: noble values that the wellbeing and health of our country is in desperate need of today.

Today, and this week particularly, we continue the battle for equal human rights for all.

This Saturday, January 21, 2017, there will be what is projected to be one of the largest human rights demonstrations in the history of the United States: the Women’s March on Washington.

There have been criticisms that regard the march as non-inclusive or another act of “white feminism”.  Skeptics have defined the march as culturally appropriating or as women’s backlash in response to the first female president not being elected.

I have been volunteering with the Rhode Island Chapter for the Women’s March on Washington since the 2016 election, and I will be marching in Washington, D.C. on Saturday.

I’ve spent every Sunday for the past 10 weeks with a group of passionate, intelligent women and men volunteers who are devoted to equal human rights. I’ve learned the short history and structuring behind the upcoming march, and that the four co-organizers are Bob Bland, Tamika Mallory, Carmen Perez and Linda Sarsour, a white woman, African American woman, Puerto Rican woman and Palestinian-American-Muslim woman, respectively. I’ve learned that these women have been listening to the needs, concerns and fears of participants in this march and trying their best to accommodate everyone for an event that is fully inclusive, supportive and welcoming of all in favor of human rights.

While there are still countless critiques, and four individuals cannot offer a full representation of the women in our country, it is a start.

And a start is what we need right now.

“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

The national mission, the Rhode Island chapter mission, and my personal mission are in alignment: that women’s rights are human rights but also, perhaps more powerfully, that all groups that were or were at risk of being silenced and marginalized in lieu of recent events in our country have a voice of their own, even if that means using mine to help.

I am marching for the groups of people who are at risk of being compromised by both directly hurtful or negligent, non-inclusive mindsets. I am marching to demonstrate that I will speak for them when they aren’t being heard, fight for them when they cannot fight for themselves and stand together with them to ensure that the progress our country has made in the last century is maintained and not destroyed. I am marching for Mother Earth and all of its inhabitants, because we owe them our gratitude and protection for all that they have given to us humans.

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Volunteers wrote postcards of support and love to the Islamic Center of Rhode Island during one of our RI WMW Chapter meetings.
I am marching because as a woman, I want it all. I want social justice, rights and ownership to and of my body, parity, respect and equality for myself, for the women who have fought before me, and for the women that we will be bringing into this world. I want this world to be a greater place when my own daughters and sons enter it, because that’s what my predecessors did for me.

And as a woman, I expect my male friends and family to do the same, with and for me and my female peers.

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Empowering artwork by local Rhode Island talent, Jess Cabral. Work available on EsJessa.com!
There is prevalent, underlying and at times blatant racism, sexism and discrimination throughout our country and as a white woman I can, at times, be blinded. I admit that. It has not been my socioeconomic plight that allows me to recognize intersectional discrimination in all its faces, but it is in my heart to do all that I can with the privileges that I’ve been born with.

There will be controversy, suspicion and disagreement regarding any movement of this size and subject, but there are good people behind this march who are trying to do a good thing.

There are people– people aspiring to act in ways that Martin Luther King Jr. did– people fighting the good fight, who are behind this march.

And what this country needs more than anything right now is community and coming together.

“Women, if the soul of the nation is to be saved, I believe that you must become its soul.” – Coretta Scott King

It was the honor, humility and dignity with which Martin Luther King Jr. fought that is most memorable and renowned, and it is those qualities that I will bring to my own battles, including the one this Saturday.

Let’s ‘Make America Great Again’ not by building walls to keep others out, but by embracing all of those within our reach already, and keeping them close and safe. Let’s redefine America, and remember that love trumps hate.

Stay good, and stay grateful.

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