White like me

Yesterday’s theme about my relationship with our current president was “old like me.” He and I are both old white men. Tomorrow, I’ll focus on gender. Today’s focus is our whiteness. We grew up in a world of white supremacy. That reality may be our greatest link. New York City is vastly different from Alabama, but we grew up in a culture of white dominance and privilege. His teen years were 1959-1966. My teen years were 1963-1970. The three years we “overlapped” as teens were 1963-1966.

Alabama’s racial segregation was de jure. New York’s was de facto. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were key events of our teen years. The Harlem riot and the NYC school boycott (both in 1964) and the 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery were during our teen “overlap” years. I understand the President’s innate racism. It’s part of my DNA, too. He and I may have dealt with our whiteness in different ways, but we were both products of a white supremacist culture.

When the President first appeared on the national political scene, he sounded like the early George Wallace (who was first elected governor of Alabama in 1962). In my bones, I heard MAGA as “Make America White Again.” The intended brutality of ICE and the “raid” on the Fulton County voter records are clear expressions of racism. John Howard Griffin’s Black Like Me was formative for me. I don’t think Griffin’s project was part of the President’s consciousness as a teenager.

So, how do I deal with my white brother in the White House? I oppose him vigorously and urge my fellow old white men to do likewise. I loved Robert Hubbell’s account of the “F— Ice” chants at a professional wrestling event, and the President’s decision not to attend the Super Bowl (for fear of “big league” booing). See “The tide is turning as Trump hides from the public.” His key point: This all stops when enough of us say, “No.”

Photo of an unidentified old white man at a protest in Athens, Georgia, from Robert Hubbell’s Today’s Edition Newsletter for today (February 5, 2026), cited above.

Owning “good trouble”

My parents were born in eastern Kentucky and grew up in Jellico, Tennessee. They married in early 1945 and both worked at the Manhattan Project in Oak Ridge. A few post World War II decisions led to my birth and childhood in Alabama. When the 1950 census was released, my uncle Jerry, the family genealogist, noted that my parents resided in Jellico the year of my birth. But, I didn’t make the census because I was still in utero. I lived in Alabama my first 55 years, but my grandparents lived in their Tennessee homes well into their 80s and 90s, so when I think of my ancestral home, it’s the Cumberland Mountains of Campbell County, Tennessee. I’ve been to more reunions at Jellico High School than to my Alabama high school.

As a child, I was more familiar with east Tennessee than Alabama. Children tend to bond with fellow children, so by the time I was eight years old, I was a fan of the new Alabama football coach, Paul W. Bryant, a loyalty that solidified over the ensuing years. When the City of Gadsden celebrated the Civil War centennial in 1961, I had a gray shirt and a little gray felt hat. My dad, then with mostly dark hair, grew a beard like Abraham Lincoln’s and wore a top hat. (I didn’t catch the irony then, but now it makes me smile.) I never felt totally at home in Sweet Home, Alabama. Thanks to my parents, I resonated with black Alabamians. In this dystopian moment, we need to know our fullest identity and we need to know the value of looking from the “outside.”

My parents, grandparents and extended family, particularly my mother, encouraged me to think for myself. She was independent and intelligent. She explained to me that many things about life in Alabama were not “right,” such as racial segregation. But, she was savvy enough to understand the costs involved with being an “outside agitator,” as George Wallace and others were fond of labeling any dissenter. Many parents underestimate the power of one-on-one conversations with a child who is respected as if he or she is an adult. I was an only child, which meant I had ample attention. But, my parents had eleven siblings between them, most of whom we engaged at regular intervals, so (as I’ve said before), I was an only child in a large family.

I learned from my extended family that this is a big world and America is a great country. I saw how things were somewhat (though not entirely) different in Tennessee, Ohio, Michigan, California, Kentucky, Florida, overseas and in other places family members visited, worked or resided. I learned that everyone at times feels like an outsider. Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Paul, Augustine, Francis of Assisi, Luther, and Wesley were significant “outside agitators.” If you find yourself feeling like an outsider, you’re in good company. If you’re ridiculed for asking questions or if someone calls you a “troublemaker,” remember that when King Ahab called the prophet Elijah a ‘troublemaker,” Elijah said to the king, “I’m not the troublemaker. You are!”

ICE knows your face. Own it. The Creator of the Universe knows your face. Own that above all else!

From “John Lewis: Good Trouble, IMBD, 2020

This administration’s virulent vacuity

I pray. All the time. It’s rarely obvious. I don’t care to be associated with much of today’s religion, which (with blessed exceptions) I find naive at best or nefarious at worst. If this is disturbing, let’s have a cup of coffee after this RSV departs what’s left of me. I’ve ordered some Bourbon Infused Pecan Coffee from Jumpingoat Coffee Roasters in Cleveland, Georgia. Like those sisters I met in a Mobile monastery in 1972, we can “pray for the world” as we share our individual and collective fears and hopes.

I pray as I process. I’m wired for moments like Friday night Jewish sabbath ceremonies, a Sunday night jazz service, a Midnight Christmas Eve Communion, a Dying Moments ceremony at a Kairos prison ministry weekend, or Barack Obama ending Clementa Pinckney’s eulogy by singing “Amazing Grace.” The Buddhist Walk for Peace has opened an inner dialogue with whatever Christianity is in me and whatever Buddhism might be in me. This nascent Buddhism has been helpful as I deal with RSV. I pray as I write each of these 2,084 posts. It’s a vital part of my ongoing spiritual therapy. By the way “salvation” means “healing.”

I missed church today. I’m more impoverished when I don’t participate. The amazing congregation embodies a kind of diverse community that expresses the best of our world. The staff understands and lives out the concept of Servant Leaders, a much-needed practice that (that our present federal administration seems hell bent to exterminate). Our senior pastor, Kevin Thomas, spoke prophetically at a hearing last week as the Alabama Legislature considers immigration legislation.

I’m still prayerfully processing yesterday’s embarrassing performance at the Homeland Security Director’s news conference (played to an “audience of one” who resides at Pennsylvania Avenue). Much is going on. In case you missed it:

Statement from the U.S. Conference of Mayors Following Death of Another Protestor in Minneapolis.

“This morning, on a street in Minneapolis, at least seven federal agents tackled and then shot and killed Alex Jeffrey Pretti, a 37-year-old ICU nurse for the local VA hospital.”

Is this finally America’s breaking point?

The extra-judicial execution of Alex Pretti

Portraits of the Minneapolis Resistance

Execution in Minneapolis

They Keep Lying to Us

Lies and Lawlessness

To help us cope, to pray, to be safe, to be faithful, let’s have a cup of coffee together if possible, or virtually. Be well. Stay warm. Be strong. When it arrives, I’ll give you a review of the Bourbon Infused Pecan Coffee from Jumpingoat Coffee Roasters.

Up periscope

Sometimes I move into a silent “monastic mode” when I feel overwhelmed by the speed of our current administration’s activism. I wear a “string of solidarity” that was tied around my wrist in Selma by one of the Buddhist monks on their Walk for Peace. He was totally silent. I said just three words: “We are one.” Last week, the monks were reunited with one of their group who lost part of a leg in an automobile accident in Houston. They embraced in total silence.

I tend to retreat into history. When I was ten, I devoured the 1960 World Book Encyclopedia my parents bought for me. I read about the “Axis Powers” of World War 2. Unlike ChatGPT, I couldn’t “ask” the static World Book about the origin of the name “Axis.” Recently, I learned it came from a November 1, 1936 speech in Milan by Italy’s Benito Mussolini. He called the recent Berlin-Rome protocol “an axis around which all European States animated by the will for collaboration and for peace may collaborate.”

A new axis seems afoot, as regimes and oligarchies compete and/or cooperate, including China, Russia, and (now) the United States, in which leaders act in their self-interest within their spheres of influence. It feels like the US administration has changed teams, moving from the Allies to this new Axis, having “entered the portal,” like a promising college football player seeking the highest bidder.

As I raised the “periscope” from my retreat into silence, I found an insightful artifact: a lengthy, detailed September 17, 1935 report by the US Ambassador to Italy. Breckinridge Long relayed to Secretary of State Cordell Hull his conversation with Benito Mussolini, who responded to Long’s suggestion that Mussolini offer a compromise at an ongoing Geneva conference:

It is too late to talk of compromise. It is too late to withdraw any of my plans for operation in East Africa. I will proceed. I will not interfere with anyone. I do not expect anyone will interfere with me. But I will not permit interference. I have one million men under arms in Italy. I have a competent navy. I have an air force with a certain superiority. I will not permit interference from any source.

From “How Hitler found his blueprint for a German empire by looking to the American West,” by David Carroll Cochran, Waging Nonviolence, October 7, 2020.

Formation

Retirement is freedom to live into one’s deepest calling. For me, it’s spiritual formation, a term that sounds religious. Since much of the world’s public religion today is toxic, personal formation may be better. For the simplicity in this and the next few posts, I’ll call it, simply, Formation.

In 1968, CBS news anchor Walter Cronkite was a major opinion-swayer. Lyndon Johnson understood the significance of Cronkite’s opinion that it was time to negotiate an end to America’s war in Vietnam. In my opinion, Fox News has become America’s most important opinion-swayer.

As an act of intentional formation, we no longer have TV cable. I subscribe to CNBC+ for $15 a month to access their financial news, so I don’t aspire to be a Desert Spiritualist. After our two-month camping trip, I’ve re-established a daily pattern of media intake that will continue to evolve. Here are links to today’s example of my first reads:

Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation, from the Center for Action and Contemplation.

Heather Cox Richardson, Letters from an American, which I access via Substack. She is also available on YouTube and Facebook.

Joyce Vance, Civil Discourse, a federal prosecutor for 25 years, is must reading in this age when (for now, at least), the judiciary is our only functioning “check and balance,” and it is wobbly. Vance helps me know (with wonderful Jewish precision and levity) the crucial legal issues of the week.

Those three are everyday “must reads” for me. Also, I check Robert Hubbell, whose Today’s Edition Newsletter tends to be encyclopedic. I use Hubbell to practice speed-reading. Today’s post. “Toto, I dont think we’re in 2024 anymore….” was a good review of Tuesday’s election results.

From “What the Frogs Know,” by Joyce Vance, Civil Discourse (cited above)

A Day of Remembrance

For me, this isn’t a Day of Mourning. November 25, 1963 was a Day of Mourning. Etched in my memory is John F. Kennedy’s riderless horse with boots facing backward. I remember older people describing their shock when Franklin D. Roosevelt died suddenly at 63. April 14, 1945 was a Day of Mourning.

Jimmy Carter was elected Governor of Georgia at 47 in 1971 and President at 52 in 1976. It’s sobering that I remember when Carter was young. I began seminary in Atlanta midway through his term as Governor. He was elected President five months after I graduated.

I cannot mourn his death because he made the most of his long life. Bob Costas delivered eulogies for Mickey Mantle (1931-1995) and Stan Musial (1920-2013). In a 5-minute video, Costas reflects on Mantle’s regret for missed opportunities and Mantle’s respect for Musial for making the most of his.

Carter’s family and friends said he was determined to accomplish in retirement what he was unable to do because he was denied a second term. Carter’s “second term” was better than his first, and longer. It was 12 times longer–48 years. He saw opportunities in defeat and made the most of them.

A Day of Remembrance