​The past year of chaos in America brings to mind Martin Niemöller’s quote:
              "First they came…"
*
FIRST, THEY CAME for USAID; they said it was riddled with fraud and abuse. 
Many resisted, but new Executive Orders continued to be signed daily. It was overwhelming. 
THEN THEY CAME for the Government Employees; they said these workers were the enemy, the “Deep State.” 
Elon Musk and his untrained “DOGE” team destroyed many careers and left the government without experienced personnel. We were in shock. 

THEN THEY CAME for our personal and financial information; they said it was for National Security. 
The data are being used to gauge our loyalty to a Tyrant. We felt alarmed but did nothing; we didn’t know what to do.

THEN THEY SAID they’d release the Epstein Files, and then they didn’t.

THEN THEY CAME FOR Latin American men in small fishing boats; they said the small boats were carrying drugs to America. 
The men were guilty, or maybe they weren’t. We’ll never know because they were all killed.

THEN THEY CAME for the illegal immigrants; they said the immigrants were raping our women and committing crimes. 
There was no due process; there was no proof. We will never know the truth.

THEN THEY CAME for the cities, deploying National Guard troops because they said the cities were out of control.
            The courts said no. Stay out of the cities. The courts were ignored.

THEN THEY SENT ICE to the cities to arrest and deport the “dangerous” immigrants. 
The courts said no. The cities don’t want or need you. Once again, the courts were ignored.

THEN THEY CAME to another city, and the courts were quiet. 
            City residents took to the streets to protest the treatment of the immigrants.

THEN THEY CAME for the protesters. 
Two American citizens have been killed by the ICE gangs so far, and two children have been kidnapped by them so far. We must take action!

The agents were ordered by the Administration to break down the doors of immigrants without warrants, which goes against the 4th Amendment to the Constitution and violates the rule of law in America, a principle upheld for the past 250 years. 

The Constitution also states that America has three equal branches of government: Executive, Legislative, and Judicial. The court system has been trying to manage this abuse of power, but the Supreme Court has granted a former president criminal immunity for some official actions taken while in office. At least with respect to the President’s exercise of his core constitutional powers, this immunity must be absolute.’

So, CONGRESS, “WHERE ARE YOU? WE NEED YOU. YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU! STAND UP! SPEAK OUT! 
Republicans: Wake up! Speak out! You control the House and Senate. You have the power to stop this Tyrant! He is destroying our country and the world order. Every day, another power grab. First, he was killing people on boats at sea; now, he’s killing American citizens in their own neighborhoods! SPEAK OUT NOW!
Democrats: Wake up! Speak out! Protect our country! Our society is crying out for dignity and respect, and freedom in our daily lives. We need basic fairness from our government. Our justice system is falling short at the highest level. And most of our leaders in Congress and the White House are millionaires and billionaires and show little empathy for us! SPEAK OUT NOW!
 
Leave me a comment so I know you're out there. Thanks, Elizabeth

Fictional Short Story

Old Ebbitt Grill
Conversation about our future with trailblazers born between 1859 and 1989
*
 What was I thinking when I invited these renowned women to dinner- even the two dead ones? They don't know me, and I don’t know them. All I know is that perhaps they can help me improve the lives of millions. I’m so nervous, and they'll be here any minute.  Wait, I’m AOC, and I’ve done the seemingly impossible before. I got this!

I won the New York 14th Congressional District seat in 2018. Just two months before the election, I was thirty points behind. My opponent, the 20-year incumbent, Joe Crowley, was well-liked and ranked fourth in power in the House of Representatives. I believed he wasn't adequately caring for his constituents, including myself. I was born in this district! I knew my neighbors needed more support to reach a decent standard of living — at least enough to afford the basics — an apartment, food, and health insurance. I didn't think that was too much to ask, but Crowley wasn't listening.

So I decided to run against him—this was personal and deeply important to people like me. Maybe I could make a difference. Starting with social media, I began my uphill battle to become the youngest woman ever elected to Congress. My victory surprised many—even me—but I built my reputation by challenging the status quo and speaking out about the poor living conditions of so many people, just like my heroines did before me. 
I needed help. People’s dignity was beyond fragile! So I invited three women to dinner at the Old Ebbitt Grill in Washington, D.C.—three heroines who made significant historical changes in America through grassroots efforts. Like me, they were born into modest families and broke the mold for women of their time.
Carrie Chatman Catt, born in 1859, arrived at the grill first, wearing her black plumed bonnet and a long-sleeved gold-and-black dress with a lace collar. In 1920, she led the suffragists to a hard-won victory in their long battle for women's right to vote, the 19th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. I have always admired her leadership.
"Hello, Mrs. Catt. Welcome to the Old Ebbitt Grill. I'm U.S. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez." I extended my hand proudly to Mrs. Catt. "Thank you so much for coming." Mrs. Catt smiled briefly and replied, "I'm honored to be here."

Next, a dignified Black woman arrived, wearing a cerulean-blue dress and white pearls, her hair pulled back in a simple braid. Her smile was affirming yet driven. Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune, born in 1875, founded and led the National Council of Negro Women.
"Hello, Dr. Bethune. Welcome to the Grill. I understand you often visited here with Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, your ‘partner in crime’!"

They laughed, and Dr. Bethune said, "Yes, I have fond memories of Eleanor. Please call me Mary."
Mary caught sight of Mrs. Catt and gasped, "Catt, how delightful it is to see you. I am overjoyed by your presence. It feels like a dream. I never imagined that I would have the pleasure of seeing you again.” 
 “I am both astonished and gratified to behold you as well, Mary.”

Gloria Steinem entered confidently, dressed in sleek black leather slacks, a Native American concha belt, and her aviator sunglasses. She introduced herself. "Hello, Mrs. Catt and Dr. Bethune. I’m Gloria Steinem. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Alex, thank you for inviting me to this remarkable occasion." 
You have no idea, I thought.

"Yes, this is an unusual gathering of illustrious women, past and present. Everyone is here. Let's sit down and get to know each other,” I responded with my signature bright red smile. I smoothed the skirt of my navy suit as I sat. "How should we address each other? First names okay?" Everyone agreed, except Mrs. Catt.
"I prefer Catt," she smiled.
The Grill was full of diners, who eyed us as we made our way to our table. The waiter paused, glancing at our unusual attire before passing the menus, probably wondering where we were headed after dinner. Mary and I ordered grilled swordfish, and Gloria and Catt ordered roasted chicken breast. We talked casually while eating dinner. 

"This evening, the thoroughfare before the restaurant was bustling with activity. I am unaccustomed to witnessing so many automobiles," Catt shared.

"I'm sure there were very few the last time you were here lobbying Congress," Gloria smiled.

"Yes," Catt said with a laugh. "It was chiefly comprised of streetcars and horse-drawn carriages."
Mary said, "I am astounded that the Grill has preserved its original décor, complete with the antique furnishings and gas chandeliers. Even the wall hangings remain unchanged, though I do not recognize the exterior of the building."

"It's amazing," I said. "The Old Ebbitt Grill was founded in 1856 and moved several times before settling here on 15th Street N.W. It has kept its charm, and now the White House is just around the corner. Tonight, on the anniversary of the 19th Amendment, August 26, 2025, the Old Ebbitt Grill feels like a 20th-century watering hole where politics simmer.”

Gloria and I watched the play, Suffs, on Broadway in New York City. The actresses who played Catt and Alice Paul, the leader of the National Woman's Party, performed opposite each other. Catt tensed slightly at the news, as Alice led a group of pro-suffrage militants also working to pass the 19th Amendment. Catt said quietly, “My role was to lead, organize, and advocate for the enfranchisement of women. I held a firm belief that women could secure the right to vote through courage and strength, without recourse to violence. Yet, I must concede that Alice's efforts were of great assistance at times, and indeed, they even endured imprisonment for the cause.” 

We finished the delicious dinner, and I began. "Ladies, again, thank you for coming this evening. I am excited beyond words to have this conversation with you. I was born to a Puerto Rican mother in 1989 in the Bronx, New York, and my zip code tried to shape my destiny.” Looking at Catt and Mary, I said, “The United States Postal Service created ZIP codes in 1963 to identify neighborhoods to facilitate delivering the mail. When I was five, my family moved to Westchester, New York (a very different zip code), where I went to school with the wealthy kids while my mother cleaned their parents' houses.

"My dad made me believe I had real power in the world. I wanted to be a healer, so I started college at Boston University as a pre-med major. I later switched to economics and international relations to become a different kind of healer. Sadly, even after graduating cum laude, job opportunities weren't opening up for me.
I never dressed in a ghetto style. Ghetto-style clothing often features bold colors, usually baggy and influenced by our music culture. I wanted to be taken seriously as a Latina. Professional clothing helped, but my skin tone and how I spoke worked against me. I moved back to the Bronx and worked as a waitress and bartender to pay my rent. Political conversations after work always ended with 'Someone needs to challenge Joe Crowley!' He was the Congressman for the Bronx and Queens, and despite his power, he didn't do squat for his district.

"Oh my, how they did require your assistance!" said Catt. 

"Thanks, Catt. After a while, I thought, 'Why not me?—Because I was a nobody!’ —I'm just someone fed up with the rich getting richer and the rest of us living paycheck to paycheck. So, I ran and won that seat in 2018, and now I’m in charge!

I've spoken out for my constituents and the nation on improving living conditions: economic justice, healthcare reform, and social equity. I've created good trouble and made some enemies along the way. Male colleagues who think I'm challenging their traditional approach to governing have been rude to me. But I'm pretty thick-skinned and have called them out." I said with a smile.

"That was indeed bold," Mary said.

"The 21st century brought many benefits, Mary. I authored the Green New Deal, with a focus on climate change and job creation. I've worked on measures to cap credit card interest rates and promote housing that our constituents can afford. But that's not enough. We need more legislative support to get them passed. It’s a choice how we spend the people’s tax dollars: food and health insurance or tax credits for the rich. Fundamental changes come from voters and federal legislation."

Catt asked, "We perceive your frustration, Alex. How may we be of assistance to you?

I took a deep breath. "I need to understand how you made such significant changes in this country—winning the right to vote for women, building a school and hospital for Negros when there were none, raising women's power in the workplace, the community, and at home. Today, thousands of working people are coming together to fight for the future of our democracy and better living conditions for low-income people. We're holding rallies in large cities and community meetings in townhalls.  Thirty-six thousand people showed up at a rally in Los Angeles, but it's not enough! We need more people. We need an organization. We need to start a revolution!” I paused. “‘I want to build a world better for all.’

Catt, when you were sixty-one, you traveled from New York to Nashville by train to lead the suffragists during the last six weeks of the 19th Amendment campaign. It was the summer of 1920. As a Southern state, Tennessee was unlikely to grant women the right to vote. The remaining southern state legislatures had already rejected the amendment. It was hot, and you relied on men for this vote. They vacillated, some changing their votes almost daily, but your strategy ultimately succeeded. How did you pull it off?"

Catt took a deep breath and began, "It was indeed a world dominated by men of European descent. Women and individuals of African heritage were not granted equal standing.” 
"Truly, amen to that." Mary nodded her head.

Catt continued, "Thirty-five states had already ratified the 19th Amendment, which gave all women the right to vote. We required but one more state, and indeed, you are correct, Alex—there was scant hope for Tennessee. Yet, we persevered as though our very lives depended upon it. Why so? Since the ratification of the U.S. Constitution, women have been striving to catch up in their roles as citizens. 'Everybody counts in applying democracy. And there will never be a true democracy until every responsible and law-abiding adult in it, without regard to race, sex, color or creed, has his or her own inalienable and unpurchasable voice in government.'"

Gloria asked, "Wow! What were the anti-suffragists doing?" 
"They were disseminating severe propaganda casting women as descending to the lowly realms of politics and warning of upheavals a woman’s right to vote will bring to the sanctity of family life,” Catt said. "Moreover, the so-called Negro question was just another pretext to oppose the enfranchisement of women. 
 
Gloria asked, "Was it the same old question?"

"Alas, lynching still persisted, and should the amendment be ratified, all women, including those of African descent, would be granted the right to vote. It was indeed a tumultuous and chaotic time. 

Yet, I remained steadfastly optimistic and persevered with my plan. Not long past, we had established the League of Women Voters, whose members, hailing from every corner of the nation, rallied in support of the Tennessee endeavor. Women of both European and African descent labored diligently side by side to secure the amendment." 

"Did you anticipate that union?" Mary asked.

"I held hope, for it was imperative that we both emerge victorious. United, they traversed the thresholds of over one hundred Tennessee legislators, urging them to affix their signatures to the pledge of ratification. Meanwhile, I deftly navigated the political tumult in Nashville, while the suffragists meticulously monitored each legislator’s vote throughout the state.
Upon their arrival in Nashville for the vote, the pro-vote women warmly greeted each legislator at the train station, presenting them with a rose indicative of their intended vote—yellow for women’s right to vote and red for the opposition. The days were marked by chaos; mischief abounded. 
  
Legislators received counterfeit telegrams purporting to demand their immediate departure because of family illness, and some threatened to abscond from Nashville to thwart a quorum. During the vote, the Speaker of the House shifted his stance from ‘Nay’ to ‘Aye’ to ensure that should the outcome prove displeasing, he might summon another vote—a legal recourse afforded the Speaker.  

"We secured suffrage by a mere single vote in Tennessee. My strategy involved collaboration with a well-established nonprofit, such as the League, because of their ability to organize nationally, and one must never relent. 

Alex cheered, "A well-deserved victory, Catt; you saved the amendment and changed women's lives forever!"

We clapped and cheered. The other diners observed us, curious about what we were celebrating.
I asked, "How did you raise funds for this campaign?"

Catt responded confidently, "In the year 1914, I was bequeathed a sum exceeding one million dollars by Miriam Leslie, esteemed editor and publisher of New York Magazine, to further ‘the cause of woman suffrage.’” 
 
"Wow! That's my kind of fundraising!" I exclaimed. We paused and dreamed of that opportunity. 
I thanked Catt for her advice and signaled the waiter to the table.

The waiter asked, "Ladies, would you like after-dinner drinks?"

"Lemonade, please," Gloria requested.
"I'll have tea," said Mary.

Catt agreed. "I’ll have tea as well."

I wanted something stronger, but had to stay alert until after dinner. "I'll have sparkling water with a twist of lime."

I turned to Mary and asked, "Mary, you built a school in Daytona Beach when you were 29 and served as its president for 38 years, until it officially became Bethune-Cookman University, which is still educating students. You also built a hospital, founded the National Council of Negro Women, and served as their president. How did you do it?"

Mary was ready. "Pure grit! I was born to formerly enslaved parents on a cotton plantation in the South. My mother had seventeen children, and --

Catt interrupted, "Seventeen children! Were you the last?"

"I was the fifteenth child, and my mother made sure I attended college even though there weren't many Negro colleges at the time. The opportunity to learn meant everything to me.

When I settled in Daytona, Florida, in the early 1900s, there were only schools for white students. Money was limited, but I had enough to start a small school for girls. It began in a cabin in 1904, where I taught classes in nursing, sewing, cooking, and other skills needed by Negro girls at the time. I sold sweet-potato pies made by the students and connected with white-owned businesses to raise funds for the school. It took time, but the school grew each year. It was all about raising funds."

"And you built a hospital as well?" asked Gloria.

"I had to. The hospital in Daytona wouldn't treat Negros, so in 1911, I started one that did. The businesses once again supported my work. Negro and White doctors, along with my school's student nurses, staffed the hospital. I named it McLeod Hospital in 'honor of my parents' love and belief in me.'

I met First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt in 1927 during a gathering of leaders from prominent women’s groups. She and the President helped me expand my fundraising network. Eleanor and I built a strong friendship through our work on social and civil rights. The New Deal provided a platform for creating job programs for women and Negro youth. Serving as President Franklin D. Roosevelt's advisor was one of my greatest honors. 
My approach was similar to Catt's—work hard and never give up!"
 
"Thank you, Mary, for your perseverance and dedication to health and education. I understand other presidents also sought your guidance on child health," I said.

"Yes," Mary replied. "President Calvin Coolidge and Herbert Hoover."

Cheers all around, with more curious glances from nearby guests at the Grill.

I smiled broadly and said, "I'm so glad you could make it tonight, Gloria. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this evening's issues. But first, are you really the ‘mother’ of the second feminist movement in America?" 

Gloria smiled and said, "I don't think of myself as the ‘mother’ of the feminist movement; I'm more like a sister." In response to questioning glances, she added, "Okay, the big sister."

"Alright, then. How did you 'not' lead women forward during the 1960s and 1970s?" I asked, with emphasis and a smile.
 
"First, I'd like to say I come from a long line of feminists; my grandmother, Pauline, was a suffragist and shared the same determination as women like Catt." All eyes and smiles turned to Catt. "And my mother was a respected journalist before her illness took over— but that's a story for another time. After Smith College, I spent two years in India on a scholarship and learned that circles of organization were more inclusive and more productive than a hierarchy. So, I introduced these circles to the women's movement."

"How do these circles work?" Mary asked.

"Sometimes it gets complicated, but in circles, everyone gets a chance to share their opinion. Each woman has an opportunity to speak, which might take more time, but there are breaks and food. We used these moments in the movement to find common ground. It works very well. 

In 1977, the National Women's Conference in Houston, TX, marked a pivotal moment for the movement. It provided me with a renewed sense of connection that changed my life. Over two years, our group traveled nationwide, visiting all 56 states and territories, organizing two-day caucuses to select delegates and determine the issues to bring to the Conference. The central question was, 'What do women want?'"
"What do women want?" I asked. "It's simple: not to be treated differently or discriminated against. Or, to put it another way, we want all people to be treated equally by our governments, financial institutions, and courts!"

Gloria chuckled, "In 1977, not everyone saw the importance of equality, and giving examples helped clarify this. That year, Houston hosted 2,000 conference delegates and alternates from all states and territories, and they were greeted by First Ladies—Lady Bird Johnson, Betty Ford, and Rosalyn Carter. Eighteen thousand U.S. and international observers watched from the bleachers as women caucused on the floor."

"Hard to get that into a political platform," I said, defeated.
 
"Yes, but we were prepared. The National Plan of Action tackled all pro-equality issues. Congresswoman Bella Abzug chaired the conference, which, after three days, voted to endorse the plan. Women across the country experienced equality for the first time by finding common ground through the political process. 

Two years later, at the 1980 Democratic Presidential Convention, two major planks were added to the platform: ‘support for the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) and government funding of abortions for low-income women!’
My strategy is to 'do what you love so much that you forget what time it is,' stay hopeful, and to create a magazine like Ms. to help spread the message to all women and men. Also, accept incremental progress."

"Wait, please explain that last part. I understand what incrementalism means. What is its application in this context?” I asked. 
 
"Incrementalism is when trying to change the country's leadership, taking small steps can be more effective than attempting it all at once. In this context, focus on one area you believe will change if your team dedicates its full effort, like winning the House of Representatives."

I took a deep breath. "Gloria, thank you for this important piece of advice. On another note, is it true that you said during the labor discussion, 'There are very few jobs that need a penis or vagina?'"

Without hesitation, Gloria exclaimed, "Yes!" The others couldn't suppress their laughter.

Mary hesitated, "Well, I’m always open to honest and meaningful conversations!"

"Welcome to the 21st century," Gloria smiled.

Catt asked, "Gloria and Alex, could you please update us on the current political situation? Mary and I have been away for quite some time now."
I looked at Gloria, who nodded. "I’ll start," she said. "Women have made significant progress, but it's been 'uphill and turtle slow.' Our ultimate goal is to be ourselves without discrimination from the ‘federal government, state legislatures, men, or the courts.’ A feminist recognizes the equality and full humanity of all women and men. 
Our main goal is to control our bodies, contraception, and safe, legal abortions, which we achieved through the Roe v. Wade decision by the Supreme Court in 1973. It provided relief to millions of women in America. Now, we have a sitting President who is an unpredictable authoritarian, a felon, and a liar. He appointed highly conservative justices to the Supreme Court. We lost control of our bodily autonomy fifty years later because the new justices rejected reproductive rights for women in America. It’s devastating for all women, especially those who are poor. The President continues to undermine women's rights."
 
I felt myself becoming increasingly upset. "That's how our dignity erodes, and under Trump, we're losing more of it. His administration is cutting vital healthcare and food assistance programs. Tell me, how can Americans uphold their self-respect without access to basic necessities? States attempt to compensate for these cuts, but the outdated federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour is insufficient to support anyone!"

Mary suddenly snapped, saying, "It appears your leadership is veering away from the freedoms we cherish!"

"That's precisely it, Mary, and Congress isn't doing anything! Justice seems elusive these days," I shouted.

We raised our voices and caused a scene. Catt said, " Let's sit back, relax, and see where we are." 
More diners now pay attention to our conversation.

I began quietly, "Here are the numbers. One hundred fifty-four million people voted in the 2024 election. Ninety million eligible voters did not."

Gloria shook her head, saying, "Ninety million didn't vote in the presidential election? A democracy depends on the people’s participation!"

“My goodness. Over a hundred years ago, thousands of women fought for the right to vote, yet now many are not exercising that right,” Catt lamented.

“We need to put these figures into perspective,” I said. "Only 154 million, or 65 percent of eligible Americans, voted in the 2024 presidential election, which seems outrageous, and it is. In 2020, 67 percent of eligible Americans voted; in 2016, 61 percent; and in 1980, 64 percent. This is not a new problem, making it even more troubling," I explained.

Catt exclaimed, "Oh dear."

Mary sighed and said, "So disappointing."

Gloria expressed her sadness, saying, "This is unbelievable. We desperately need more Americans to vote. Congress needs strong, caring leaders who truly care about people's lives.”

"Over half of Congress members are millionaires and billionaires,” I said. "This makes it hard for them to connect with and empathize with those who lack basic needs,” I added, sharing from my own experience as a waitress without healthcare. “I didn't have healthcare when I was elected to Congress! I used to wait until I was rushed into the emergency room to see a doctor."

Catt was direct: "We need to change Congress's makeup. Ninety million eligible people do not vote. How many of them are registered?"

Gloria picked up her phone. "I'll check."

"What is that object in your hands?" Mary asked curiously.

Gloria smiled and said, "Oh! It's called a smartphone—an invention that didn't exist until the early 21st century. It started out as a phone with basic electronics and has evolved into these marvels in our hands. We can look up any information on them.
Here it is: forty million people who didn't vote in the 2024 presidential election are registered.”

I shook my head in disbelief. "Forty million registered voters opted not to vote for the U.S. president! That's sad. Truly sad. Trump only won the popular vote by two million."

Gloria sighed, "And fifty million aren't even registered. We'll need an army to turn this around!"

Catt reminded her companions, "The women’s right to vote was the most significant movement for enduring change in this country during the early 1900s, but it needed better organization to succeed. Every state needed a captain. Every county needed a captain. Every city, town, neighborhood, and street needed a captain, and it still took seventy-two years.

This is a long-term effort. It takes many elections to build enough support for everyone to have faith in themselves.” Catt paused. “What happened to the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA)? It was introduced to Congress in 1923?” 

Gloria sighed once more. "Congress finally approved it in 1972 with a ratification deadline. Although we eventually gathered the thirty-eight states necessary to ratify it, we missed the deadline by forty-three years."

Catt's expression changed, "Oh dear. Is there any way to bring it back?"

"Sure, as soon as we change Senate members! The House has passed a bill twice to eliminate the deadline for the ERA, but the Senate has not passed it," Gloria said.

I was eagerly taking notes on my smartphone during the discussion. "You ladies inspire me. What do you think about my plan?” 

• Convince a partner with a well-established nonprofit to register voters and boost turnout for the 2026 election. Maybe the League?
• Identify Senators and House members who share our values to participate in the Standard of Living Campaign—oh—this is the first time I've said that out loud. Let’s keep it as a placeholder until we find a better term.
• Connect with wealthy donors to secure funding for the campaign, and
I want to add that we define our shared values​. Other thoughts?”

Mary said, "Alex, I think you can not do this alone, as I did. You are transforming an entire country—as Catt and Gloria did."

Gloria agreed, "That's right. Let's begin with the list of values today."

"Yes, I'm in favor of that," said Catt. "But there is a lot of sighing at this table. I need some dessert and a powder room before we move on."

"Great idea," I replied. "I'll ask for the dessert menu." I need to keep my promise to myself to take more breaks. Otherwise, we’ll wear ourselves out before making any changes!

Everyone lit up at the mention of dessert.

"Oh my, according to the menu, these desserts have been served at the Old Ebbitt Grill since the mid-19th century!" said Mary. "I'll have the Lemon Meringue pie with Virginia Strawberry Preserves."

"I'll join you," Gloria said with a smile. 

"The Flourless Chocolate Torte with Salted Caramel and Hazelnut Cream looks delicious to me," said Catt.

"The White Chocolate Cheesecake with Berry Compote and Graham Cracker Crust is calling to me," I smiled. Catt carefully placed her napkin on her lap and lifted her fork as I eagerly dug into my dessert. After every crumb of the delicious desserts was gone, the work continued.

I announced, "Okay, let's talk about America's values."

Gloria asked, "Alex, you’ve been traveling across the country with Senator Bernie Sanders. You drew thirty-two thousand people to Los Angeles. What did you talk about?"
​
"We discuss 'how the extreme concentration of power, greed, and corruption leads to an oligarchy, and we are here to protest this change in governance. We address instances of federal immigration officials conducting unauthorized removals of individuals from the streets on the basis of their appearance. Additionally, we share stories of families facing struggles."
 
Catt said, "That is good. In my experience, we need to use positive words with voters. That is how you persuade the public. It is challenging to oppose an oligarchy, but people know what they lack. Tell them what your plan offers. Developing a set of values or a platform for the Democratic Party should be the easy part." 

Alex thought, The Democratic message had not been focused for years. We had forgotten the middle class, never mind the low-income families. We decided to focus on five values: Dignity, Respect, Fairness, Justice, and Empathy.

Gloria said, “You go first, Alex.”

" Economic prosperity that is fair to everyone, emphasizing the living minimum wage. To me, it reflects our respect for Americans!" I declared.

“A guaranteed living minimum wage and affordable healthcare for everyone," I added. 

"Protect voting rights!" Mary said, louder than usual.

"Reproductive rights!" a woman in a blue dress shouted from her table. Diners nodded and cheered her on. We smiled in surprise.

Catt added, "Defend our right to debate and dissent."

“Pass the Equal Rights Amendment!” said Gloria with her fist in the air.

A slender man at another table shouted, "Respect Americans by telling the truth!" 
We all gave him a thumbs-up, and the dinner guests again cheered.

"The same quality education for all children, regardless of their zip code.” Mary was proud to remember the code.

Catt chuckled, "How many are we going to list?"

Gloria shouted, " Equal justice under the law: No one is above the law. That's it for me."

The same slender man shouted, “Manage immigration while following the damn law!”

I continued, "A safety net that guarantees dignity in the form of living wages and affordable healthcare for all Americans!"

Mary exclaimed, "Fair taxation and responsible government spending."

Gloria said ruefully, "I'm afraid that horse has already left the barn, Mary. But it has to be there. Thank you."

“We want our democracy back!” shouted a patron I couldn’t see, but I responded, “Thank you!” as loud as I could. 

"Accountability of government, corporations, and individuals," Catt said, louder than she meant to!

I beamed proudly, "That's a perfect one to end with, Catt. This platform is what Republicans will call the ‘Big Scary Radical Left Agenda for America!’ Let them.”

Gloria declared, "We have our goals. We know our message. Bring on the champagne!"

We knew there would be more dinner parties to collaborate further. 
 
AFTERWORD
This is a work of fiction inspired by US Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC). I appreciate her dedication to improving the lives of her constituents and people across the country. The dialogue and opinions expressed are fictional. The following references were used for quoted language. 
Bibliography
Benedict, Marie, and Victoria Christopher Murray. The First Ladies. Berkley, New York, 2023.
Editors of New York Magazine. Take Up Space, The Unprecedented AOC. Avid Readers Press, 2022
Heilbrun, Carolyn G., The Education of a Woman, The Life of Gloria Steinem. Ballantine Books, New York, 1995.
Miller, Lisa, and Rebecca Traister. Take Up Space, The Unprecedented AOC, edited by New York Magazine. HarperCollins, New York, 2019.
Steinem, Gloria. My Life on the Road. Random House, New York, 2015.
Van Voris, Jacqueline. Carrie Chapman Catt: A Public Life. The Feminist Press, City University of New York, 1987.
 Weiss, Elaine. The Woman’s Hour: The Great Fight to Win the Vote. Penguin Books, New York, 2018.

Please leave a comment so I know you're out there.  Thanks, Elizabeth

Let me know how you are. 

Abraham Lincoln said that if you measure people by the color of their skin, there will always be someone darker or lighter than you! 
 
And I say, “If you measure a person by their gender, you will undoubtedly be surprised.”

​Thanks for reading. Leave a comment so I know you're out there. 

Cherished Readers,

On Monday, November 4, 2024, Mom passed away in her sleep. She was 97. She left a full and inspiring legacy of her thirst for life. She raised four accomplished children, had two loves, and ferried private letters to the Vatican for the Archbishop of Worcester Diocese. If she believed that something should be achieved, she found a way to achieve it.
​
Here is the story of her life, plus the epilogue. Enjoy.

MOM'S STORY, “Martha Walsh, A Model Professional of Her Time,” an essay finalist in the 2019 Adelaide Literary Awards, anthology (print only) reprinted on Medium.com below.
medium.com/@ekilcoyne10/born-in-1926-a-model-professional-of-her-time-7ea5b440c729,

EPILOGUE
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Mom smiles when I show her photos of her great-grandchildren. She spits at me when she doesn't like what I'm saying. She rolls her eyes with a long sigh if I repeat myself or treat her like a child. She knows what I'm saying. A few years ago, she broke her hip. Her cognitive decline limited her ability to process physical therapy instructions in the nursing home. She cannot stand. She cannot speak; she only babbles. She sits in a wheelchair with her hands frozen in a fist. She cannot feed herself. But even with these limitations, Mom is still in there. Though her words are few, the spark in her eyes tells me she understands the changes around her, a testament to the fierce spirit that has defined her life. Our visits usually make me feel better, knowing she continues to live the best life she can.
*
Mom lived in Ormond Beach, Florida. After they retired, she moved there with her second husband, Robert Walsh. Bob was a good man who loved Mom with every ounce of energy. Mom relished his attention. They traveled. They joined the country club. They golfed. They danced all night. Their life was beyond Mom's wildest dreams. This joy lasted eight years; then, Bob died of a sudden, massive heart attack.

Mom lost her anchor, her reliable rock, and was adrift for a time.  She first moved to a condo with too many rules about flowers and minimal contact with neighbors. Mom is a people person, and this posed an emotional challenge. Then she moved to a house where she took on the mortgage for $1. She said it was a drug house. I’m not sure, but Mom found herself again in this house and made it her own.
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Carol, a neighbor who understood Mom’s need for companionship, became her confidante and travel buddy to cultural events, again bringing joy to her days. They were serious plant collaborators. Carol had a night-blooming cereus, which bloomed once a year at a time when most people were asleep. They sat on Carol's porch, drinking tea and telling childhood stories. The cereus finally unfolded its petals and released a hypnotic scent. They talked about it for days. These were precious days for Mom. Delores, Mom's other good friend, lived on the other side of town. She and Mom dined in each other's homes and played cards late into the evening. Sometimes, they had sleepovers like teenagers. Her vegetable garden flourished under Mom's attentive care during spare moments.

Leaving Florida
While the memories of Florida were filled with joy, the reality of moving back home was about to unfold, bringing its own set of challenges. Mom had difficulty cooking and remembering to turn off the stove as the years passed. Carol and other neighbors called with concern. Mom lived alone and still drove. We flew to Florida to bring Mom home. My brother Sean came from San Francisco. My sister, Martha Jr., and I came from Boston. We all arrived the same day and overwhelmed Mom with the idea of moving back to Massachusetts. She knew this move was coming. We discussed it many times. But leaving her friends, her garden, and her cherished freedom would still be hard.
A good life and memories filled Mom's home. We went through every drawer, box, and corner of the house, including the garage. My assignment was to sort out her fabulous jewelry and fashionable clothes. She had sequined jackets, jewels on her blouses, and negligees suitable for a princess. I slipped a black sheath with pink and green embroidered roses into my suitcase for a future time. Martha Jr. worked with Mom’s papers and china, which needed to go to Massachusetts. Sean and I went to Walmart to collect moving boxes. It was open 24 hours a day and stocked its shelves at midnight. Somehow, we knew this and garnered a massive supply of boxes. When a stock person realized we were collecting them, he stopped cutting the boxes and moved them our way.

Martha Jr. found a company that organized the sale of “house contents.” A nurse and teacher owned the company and had sales on their days off. It had little overhead and a considerable following. The company advertised, showed up, and priced most items, leaving the rest for the “best offer.”We loaded items for Massachusetts into a trailer in the yard. Our brother, Steve, later took it north. Everything that was not going north remained in its place: clothes in the closets, dishes in the cupboards, beds in the bedrooms, and potpourri in the garage.

This was a big move for Mom. She was leaving her home to move into a one-bedroom senior living apartment 1,300 miles away. Sean took Mom to Daytona Beach to distract her on the sale day. Watching her precious treasures go out the door with strangers was heartbreaking. I'm glad she wasn't there. By mid-afternoon, the sale was complete. A nonprofit organization was waiting to take the rest away; Mom's house was empty.

When I returned home, I flew immediately to Portland, Oregon, to greet my new and first grandson, Archie. The cycle of life was on my mind. This precious baby was a new beginning, and Mom was slowing down. We had applied for senior housing the year before. We hoped her name would soon reach the top of the list at a building in downtown Ipswich. I had lived in town for three decades, and Mom knew it well through her holiday visits. She moved into my house to wait for her next adventure in senior living.

Before I left for Florida, I met someone I wanted to see again. Now, my mom was living with me. Denis arrived for the weekend and asked, "When did your mother move in?" We have been married for seven years now. Looking back, it was funny, though the situation felt awkward then. Mom has difficulty with boundaries and pursued Denis with uncomfortable questions. Her apartment was ready in a few months. Her furniture arrived from Florida. Friends loaned her a bed. She found comfort in being closer to family.

"Can Catholics come to church here?"
Next to Mom's senior housing was a Baptist church. My mother was born a Baptist and became a Roman Catholic when she moved north to marry my father. Although I tried, I did not get my mother to Mass every Sunday, not even close. She walked next door to the Baptist church and asked, "Can Catholics come to church here?" They welcomed her, and she never looked back.

Ipswich is a historic community with homes dating back to the 17th century. It boasts the beautiful Crane Beach and a small downtown area with many restaurants. Mom became friends with the owners of all the restaurants. She ate at least one meal daily at the Subway across the street from her building. After a few years, she had difficulty crossing the street alone. The owner of the Subway asked her to call him when she was coming, and either he or one of his customers would cross her. All the locals looked out for Martha. When she entered Zumi's Coffeehouse, the barista shouted, "Here's the Queen of Ipswich! One hot chocolate for Martha." Mom loved that attention and made many visits to Zumi’s.

She was also a regular at the Dollar Store. The cashiers helped her as if she were their mother. She "borrowed" the shopping cart to take her purchases home. They knew she'd be back in a day or so. My friends visited her, stopped by with dinner and flowers, and asked if she needed anything. Once, a stranger called me and said he had helped my mother at the bank ATM. Ipswich is one of those towns where people look out for one another.

Mom thrived in the Baptist Church. She hosted Bible studies in her apartment; no one knew the Bible like Mom. In her late eighties, she met a new best friend, Marilyn, who moved into the senior apartment building. She and Marilyn went everywhere together. Marilyn was in her sixties and had a car. I checked in on Mom daily but sometimes couldn't find her. Her phone was less critical with Marilyn when they were out and about, and she didn't always answer. She and Marilyn babysat her granddaughter. Crossing the street in front of their building felt unsafe. So, they petitioned to fix the sidewalk and remove a blocking parking space. They brought these to the town Select Board. In her late eighties, Mom highlighted the danger of the big holes. Then, the town made the repairs and cleared the space. After that, they went to the dollar store without any difficulty. Unfortunately, Marilyn died a few years later, and Mom was heartbroken. Her best friend was gone, and her cognitive decline began.

Mom's safety became a concern. She told me, "Elizabeth, don't worry. If I can't find my way home, everyone downtown knows me and will make sure I arrive home safely." That's the people of Ipswich. 

“What kind of eggs do you eat?”
Mom needed more care after five years of living alone in her apartment. But she was reluctant to give up her independence and her church. I fully supported her move to assisted living, but I didn’t know how much I would miss her. Christopher Heights in Marlborough, Massachusetts, would be her new home. She would be closer to my sister, Martha Jr., and the rest of the family. The Heights was a beautiful colonial-style building, and everyone she met was friendly. My sister tells this story: the director asked Mom what kind of eggs she liked. It was during her lunch interview with the admissions team. Mom said, "Chicken! What kind of eggs do you eat?" They thought she'd fit right in. That was June 2018. 

Her apartment at the Heights was warm and cozy. On her 94th birthday, I walked into her room. The sun was shining through the blue and white sheer curtains. Mom sat at her white wrought-iron breakfast table. She was surrounded by the last of her belongings. A curio cabinet held her treasures, family photos covered every surface, and a red Christmas bow hung over her bed. She wore a pink jacket with rhinestone brooches, a black and white leopard blouse, and her signature beret. She exuded elegance.

She had an expectant look as if something was about to happen. I tied a "Happy Birthday" balloon to her walker. Then, we took a ceremonial tour around her assisted living residence. There were some congratulatory greetings and a few short chats. The aide who had dressed Mom that morning admired her handiwork.

We settled in the living room and read cards from her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and friends. There were many, and it took a while. We returned to the elevator and retired to her room to indulge in hot tea and mini whoopie pies.

Mom spent 2 ½ years making friends and generally enjoying Christopher Heights. She attended services at Grace Chapel Baptist Church, but it became too overwhelming. She said, “There were too many people doing too many things. No room for Jesus.” As her dementia advanced, Mom grew uneasy with most activities. They required a level of commitment that she could no longer maintain.

The wingback chair beside the lobby's living room fireplace became Mom's comfort spot. She arrived mid-morning to watch the passersby and engage them in conversation. Even though her words came more slowly, Mom always had something interesting to say. She thrived on being the center of attention. Her buddies would meet her there and be the first ones for lunch. On one of her visits to the living room, Mom fell and broke her hip. It healed, but her cognitive phase had limited her ability to manage the walker. A full-time wheelchair was in the future.
Although Mom faced new challenges at Christopher Heights, she embraced each day with the same spirit that had defined her life—a testament to her unwavering zest for living.

Moving Again
After her fall, Mom never returned to Christopher Heights. Martha Jr. and I cleared out her apartment there. We found many items from her past – dog tags from both her husbands, souvenirs from her travels abroad, and a fur coat.
I took Mom’s beautiful clothes home to sort through them. I spread them around me to decide which would accompany her to the nursing home and which I should donate. Loss and memories surrounded me. 
I sent a sequined dress and a witch hat with Mom. I kept her red velvet coat and plan to give it to her granddaughter, who is a designer.

Mom lived at Knollwood Nursing Center in Worcester, Massachusetts, until she died. The staff there liked her, and she seemed happy. Because Mom is very social, she spent her days at the nursing station. She could see everyone passing by, and all said “hello” to her. Everyone loves Martha!

Rest in Peace, Mom.

​Elizabeth Kilcoyne, November 22, 2024

I am grateful for family and wish you all a healthy Thanksgiving time.