Wrightings

  How to Create a Democratic Republic That Lasts 250 Years J. L. Wright Ingredients Flour gathered from the heartlands Clear Pacific Northwest water that remembers every season New England sea salt, enough to make us honest A patient spoonful of midwestern yeast Carolina or Georgian Sesame seeds for hope Time, history, itself, is its measure Use the measurements of memories The warmth of a neighbor holding the screen door The smell of chicory coffee beside a ballot box Kentucky porch swings creaking through difficult conversations Tropical rain on a concession speech Sore feet after marching together A child's fingerprints on the oven glass   Instructions Wash your hands. Bring everyone to the table. Leave no empty chair. Mix gently. Every hand changes the dough. Some arrive early, some late, all leave a trace. Knead until disagreement becomes strength. If it cracks, add listening instead of force. Let the...

3 rd cousin 8 times removed on our mother’s side Abraham Clark was selected to sign the Declaration of Independence due to his vocal support for independence, his political experience, and his reputation as a dedicated public servant. Background and Political Involvement Abraham Clark was a prominent figure in New Jersey politics before the American Revolution. He was known as "the poor man's counselor" for his commitment to representing those who could not afford legal representation. His background as a surveyor and self-taught lawyer, combined with his service in various public offices, including high sheriff of Essex County, established him as a respected leader in his community  Support for Independence Initially, the New Jersey delegation to the Continental Congress was opposed to independence from Great Britain. However, as tensions escalated, the state convention replaced the delegates with those favoring separation. Clark was appointed as a delegate du...

  II   What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination? Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks! Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men! Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments! Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb! Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smok...

 

 

  They call him the Patchwork Prince. Not because he chose the title, but because life keeps adding pieces— a biopsy here, a surgery three days after the results, another black Band-Aid where skin used to be untouched. Squamous cell carcinoma has become an unwelcome companion, showing up unannounced, asking for more patience than anyone should have to give. Still, he shows up. He sits in waiting rooms. Learns new medical terms. Lets strangers mark his skin with ink, Then removea what doesn't belong. The black band-aids gather like small flags, quiet evidence of battles that rarely make the news. Beneath them are scars. Beneath the scars are stories. Beneath the stories is a man who keeps going. There is courage in dramatic moments, but there is another kind in answering the phone, hearing the results, and showing up for surgery three days later. The Patchwork Prince knows that kind of courage. His kingdom is not made of castles. It is built from resilience, good doctors, healing ha...