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
​
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.
​
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. 

​​The majority of Americans favor crucial policies that Kamala and Tim push for. You know what they are. Here are a few. Safe, legal abortions. Background checks on gun purchases. Ban on assault weapons. Robust economy with lower prices on groceries. Equal rights for all. Reasonable and respectful immigration laws.
  
That's why I’m proudly supporting Vice President Kamala Harris and Governor Tim Walz. They embody the values and needs of the American people on our nation's major issues. Being a supporter is only half of what is needed, though. 
 
 Volunteer to back up your support:

• Write postcards to Swing states. Postcards have a proven record. Twenty percent of people who receive them, act. Some people have been dropped from the voting list or must register for the first time; This prompts them to take action!
• Make phone calls to Swing states.
• Many Massachusetts volunteers go to N.H. to canvass door to door for the presidential ticket and other legislative offices.
• Travel to Swing states and knock on doors. In 2020, Joe Biden won Pennsylvania by 50.01% of the vote, which is about 80,000 votes. Philadelphia is recruiting people to canvass Democrats who aren’t reliable presidential voters. Denis and I canvassed there last week, encouraging voters to vote by mail and ensure their vote counts. 
• Donate to groups in Swing states, organizing volunteers locally if you can. 

 
I hope you’re feeling giddy, too! If you want information about volunteering, contact me at [email protected] or leave me a comment. 

"Putting People First"


In 1992, the Dow Jones hovered around 3,200 points, 35 states had ratified the Equal Rights Amendment, Johnny Carson appeared for the last time on "The Tonight Show," and I went to the Democratic National Convention! Now that the political convention season 2024 is underway, memories of my trip to the Convention in NYC have swirled in my head. One of the highlights of my life; it feels like it was yesterday. We were recovering from the Reagan Era and needed to get back to focusing on people, equality for women, keeping democracy alive, and strengthening the economy.

Although it seemed like Bill Clinton's year, other democrats were running for president. Senator Paul Tsongas of Massachusetts was running, and I was one of his delegates! I had only visited New York City once and was thrilled to be a delegate, albeit an alternate one. The Tsongas committee leader, Dennis, offered me an "alternate delegate" place on their slate. Being an alternate is exactly what it sounds like. If a delegate doesn't show up, you can take their seat. Otherwise, you cannot vote for the presidential nominee or anything else presented! My political mentor, Shirley Raynard, and I represented the same Senate District. An activist for many years, she took me under her wing when I got involved. I usually passed decisions by her beforehand, but this one seemed straightforward. Get on the slate and go to the convention.

When I told Shirley I had accepted the alternative slot, she said, "Elizabeth, you are an elected member of the Massachusetts Democratic State Committee. Call Dennis and tell him 'thank you,' but you will run as a delegate from the state committee.

I said, "I told them I was honored to be part of the Tsongas slate."

Shirley sighed, tore her list of committee members, handed me half, and said, "You call those members, and I will call the others and ask them to vote for you. You're going to the convention as a delegate." It worked! It's been a while since I've asked Shirley for advice, but we stay in contact and share political and family stories.

I worked for the State Comptroller's Office in Massachusetts and kept my political activities to myself. At the time, the House Committee on Ways and Means approved every employee position on the state's payroll as part of the state budget. In my job, I ensured that only the approved personnel positions appeared in the payroll system, which I did every year before July 1. The state budget, however, was passed late in 1992. I was on the train to New York City on July 13, comparing the budget to the state payroll system. While everyone else was partying on the train, I sat in the corner of the last seat and reviewed the budget. I could not tell anyone what I was doing for fear that one of the reporters on the train would write the story, Party Train Makes Decisions about Mass State Personnel. I could never begin to explain my way out of that. It's about perception in government. There's a saying: "Today a peacock, tomorrow a feather duster!" I faxed the results to the Comptroller's office before I entered my hotel room.

Staying at the Sheraton Manhattan on 7th Avenue was a big deal for me. The last time I was in NYC, I was with my mother, and we stayed at my aunt's apartment. A Boston delegate and I reserved a room for two and started our adventure.

It all began at Madison Square Garden in New York City. The 41st Democratic National Convention of the United States commenced at 4:30 p.m. on Monday, July 13, 1992, with the roll call of the 50 states, Democrats Abroad, Guam, and Virgin Islands, representing 4,288 delegates present. When a state announced its presence, the delegates cheered and waved signs, most reading Clinton, People First. Mine read Tsongas.

The dynamic Governor of Texas, Ann Richards, the convention chair, stepped onto the red, white, and blue dais and opened the first night with her clear, projective voice: "I am pro-choice, and I vote!"

The Garden erupted into cheers and demonstrations. Demonstrating is like walking a picket line on steroids. Everyone was excited! In 1992, women's rights were on the table!

Richards quickly convinced the delegates that Ronald Reagan and George Bush's 12 years were finally over. She declared, "And as far as the White House is concerned, honey, you can shut out the lights; the party is over."

1992 became known as "The Year of the Woman," partly due to the Democratic Convention. Women in Congress, governors, mayors, and chairs of convention committees topped the speakers' agendas. For me, this was a welcome departure. My local newspaper quoted me: "It was the first time not only the right words were spoken, but not by just a bunch of ties."

Senator Barbara Mikulski of Maryland announced that she was the only democratic woman in the U.S. Senate and wanted more women to caucus with. The senator introduced six women as leaders for the 90s, running as Democrats for the U.S. Senate. The states elected four in November 1992: Carol Mosely Braun from Illinois, Representative Barbara Boxer from California, Dianne Feinstein from California, and Patty Murray from Washington. Today, these leaders are household names.

At the end of the evening, the Mass delegation was bused to a NYC speakeasy in the basement of a nondescript city building. Food, drinks, and music were in abundance! I recognized the voice of my favorite political commentator from Boston. I introduced myself and thanked him for keeping us informed. It was a great night. We returned to the hotel around 3 a.m. and found people sleeping in our room. It was very late, and I thought, what the heck? This is all new to me, and I lay on the bed with my clothes on. My eyes closed, and I was out.

On the second night, the leaders spoke of familiar unfinished business. Voting rights, health care, education, and the frailty of democracy! Support for these issues was crowded under the large Democratic tent, which provided hope and possibilities for the future—putting people first with universal health care, for example.

Vermont Governor Howard Dean informed the delegates that 85% of healthcare dollars were spent in the last two years of life. "What if," he wondered, "we devoted these resources to AIDS research, Pap smears, mammograms, and prenatal care." Dean, a physician, asked, "Or if we spent some of these dollars on family planning instead of stacking the Supreme Court to take away women's rights?" (Reagan nominated Justices William Rehnquist and Antonin Scalia, and G.H.W. Bush nominated Justice Clarence Thomas.) I didn't see the significance of those appointments at the time because I believed that abortion was protected by the 14th Amendment in the U.S. Constitution after the Roe v. Wade decision.

Women's rights have been debated since the early 1800s. 1920 brought significant progress when women won the right to vote, and in 1973, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that abortion was legal under the U.S. Constitution. Other advances brought women closer to equality in the 70s and 80s: the ability to have personal credit cards and own homes in their own names, and improvements to employment and education laws. My seatmate Deb and I agreed that we were progressing but feared that full equality might not be achieved in our time.

Mayor Jan Laverty Jones of Las Vegas, NV, spoke about choosing leaders who understood what working Americans go through daily, year after year, to make life better for their families and leave a bright legacy for their children. Women traditionally had this role, another great reason to add them to the decision-making table.

Inspired by the women leaders, I decided I would never again attend an event for "Women for a Male Candidate." This type of gathering, which involved a sea of women rooting and fundraising for a male candidate, was popular at the time. It was demeaning when male candidates reached out to women for support, but it wasn't reciprocal. Women had to work harder at fundraising and visibility. I have kept that promise to this day. Of course, I vote for male candidates but don't join such groups. Not always a popular position.

Representative Nancy Pelosi from California was in her third term. She co-chaired the Convention Platform Committee, which documents the party's values and plans for the next term, which its candidates agree to uphold. Representative Pelosi discussed jobs as a central part of the platform—"good jobs, better jobs," and insisted that jobs would inform our budget, tax, and trade policies. Again, the delegates cheered! At the night's end, I was exhausted from the hours of cheering and standing. After a quick late-night supper, I returned to my hotel and laid down next to an unknown delegate again. I was too tired to care.

Since taking my seat at the convention, it had been a little uncomfortable for me to be a Tsongas delegate. The Massachusetts Clinton team aggressively lobbied for me to vote for Bill Clinton. I told them, "When Tsongas releases me, I will support Clinton for president." That answer wasn't compelling enough to stop them from hassling me. I understood they were Clinton's "whips," and they were supposed to do anything to increase his votes in the state delegation, but my first choice for president was U.S. Senator Paul Tsongas.

Tsongas believed we could create our destiny. The Democratic Party was one of social inclusion, where children of color could develop self-esteem and keep it for life, where women and their doctors made reproductive healthcare decisions, and where lesbian and gay teenagers could enjoy life without discrimination. These were reassuring words. Again, putting people first.

But by Day 2, Tsongas didn't have enough delegate votes to challenge Clinton for the nomination. He gathered his delegates during a break and released us from voting for him, which increased my admiration for Tsongas. He wanted a unanimous convention vote for Governor Clinton.

Before the convention's third night, Senator Ted and Vicki Kennedy invited the Mass Delegation to a boat tour around Manhattan. Remember the Dennis who offered me an alternate delegate slot on the Tsongas slate? He was on the boat. We had yet to meet in person, so a friend pointed him out. I bought two beers and introduced myself. We toasted Clinton, and he thanked me for supporting Tsongas until he released us.

That night, I was finally a Clinton delegate. There were many, many nomination speeches for Clinton and Gore! The convention hall was a sea of signs and excitement. The roll call by each state solidified the Clinton/Gore ticket. This expected outcome brought even more joy and demonstration in the aisles for the next president of the United States! I needed an early night to prepare for the convention's final day, so I left and returned to my hotel. The beds were full this time, so I slept on the floor. I was surprised at my surrender to this downgrade. I was high on hope for the future.

Hillary Clinton joined the Mass Delegation for breakfast the following day. It was my first time meeting her. She was still recovering from the baking cookies comment, "I suppose I could have stayed home, baked cookies, and hosted teas." She was looking for a friendly group and found one. We enjoyed a few laughs, and Hillary generously greeted every delegate that morning!

On the 4th and last night of the convention, Clinton and Gore gave their acceptance speeches. The "people first" theme continued. Clinton criticized the Reagan/Bush years because the country had lost the battle for economic opportunity and social justice. The "trickle-down" economics did not work. Reducing taxes for the rich and hoping some of their additional funds would be spent on products supporting more jobs did not happen. His vision for the future centered on the notion that free enterprise created jobs. He would put power back in the hands of the people!

After Clinton's speech, Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop" pop-rock song filled the hall. Balloons fell. Red, silver and blue metallic-like confetti fluttered down. In my excitement, I wanted to share it with my daughters and friends at home. Down on my hands and knees, I filled a shopping bag with confetti. I got some curious looks—it was worth it!

The 1992 Convention's theme and the journey through subsequent democratic administrations to put people first, equalize women's role in society, support democracy, and keep the economy strong still resonate today. At Vice President Kamala Harris's inaugural campaign rally for president in Wisconsin, she announced record-breaking grassroots fundraising. She proclaimed, "Because we are a people-powered campaign, that is how you know we will be a people-first presidency!"

I am high on hope for the future again!
 
Dear Readers, What kind of high are you on??

"The Day After"
 
My initial response was relief when President Joe Biden withdrew from the presidential election. Then I wasn't sure. Then I was. Then I wasn't. Then, I was angry that he had to withdraw. He had a bad night. After all he had accomplished in the last three and a half years, it didn't make sense. 
 
Then I was angry at his staff, at his campaign, and at the Democratic National Committee, and then I was looking for people to be angry with. Why didn't we know he was struggling? I last saw the president at the State of the Union Speech in March. He seemed fine. He seemed great. He seemed presidential! Even when he went off-script, he did fine. What happened? 
 
I stayed in Joe's camp for two weeks. I convinced myself that the constant campaign talk was helpful. People were focused on the campaign. Then, the number of Democratic leaders' encouraging him to step aside grew. A poll suggested that 2/3 of voters wanted the president to withdraw. I'm not too fond of polls, so it was frustrating to see the Democratic leaders pushing and pushing for his withdrawal.
 
Things were going well. The president's accomplishments—from the strongest economy to investments in rebuilding, lowering prescription drug prices for seniors to care for veterans, and appointing the first African American woman to the Supreme Court—were truly impressive. And he was growing older. He didn't miss one day! His opponent was also growing older. 
 
With all this momentum for our country, we asked/forced him to step down because he is old – which we already knew. 
 
He was planning a one-term presidency. Then, a fascist want-to-be-dictator decided to run for president. By running again, Joe Biden believed he was protecting our democracy.
 
Now he's too old? OK, one bad night. Yes, it was bad. It would have been better if his makeup didn't make him look like a ghost. It would have been better if he was rested. It would have been better if he had decided not to debate a felon. 
 
Where was his team? Why did they accept the debate? Biden didn't need to debate to show the voters what he could do. He was the president with substantial accomplishments. 
 
My anxiety about what he's going to do is gone. It has transferred to what will happen next. The uncertainty of the upcoming Democratic Presidential nominee for President of the United States is stressful. It could be August 22nd before we know. 
 
I will continue writing weekly postcards to voters in swing states and proudly vote for the Democrat on the ticket, whoever it is!

​How are you feeling? Let me know. Thanks 

Dear Readers, This article appeared in the Newburyport Daily News on May 20, 2024.

                                                                    Vote for a Leader, Vote for Biden
                                                Fourth in a Series 
 
 America has successfully solved national problems and advanced our democracy from the beginning. The challenges have included:

• managing the economy,
• improving race relations,
• protecting citizens from poverty and lack of health insurance, 
• curing diseases,
• rebuilding European countries after World War II,
• expanding voting rights,
• protecting reproductive health care.

History tells us that our presidents have been leaders in these areas. Faced with the horror of slavery, President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation and shepherded the passage of the 13th Amendment to the US Constitution which abolished slavery in 1865.

President Franklin Delano Roosevelt created financial relief mechanisms for Americans, including jobs and unemployment benefits, Social Security benefits for seniors during the Depression, and the GI Bill in 1944 for returning World War II veterans.

Science and technology took off with President Eisenhower's creation of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) in 1958, and his establishment of the Interstate Highway System in 1955, paving the way for the future.

President Lyndon Johnson championed the Civil Rights Act of 1964 which continues to protect Americans' rights today. His legacy includes the War on Poverty, which reduced poverty in America by half. 

President Nixon established the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in 1970 to protect human and environmental health, followed by the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) to protect the safety of our workers.

In 2010, more than 40 million additional Americans received health insurance because of President Obama's Affordable Care Act.

These are examples of strong leaders. They had the courage and skills to meet America's challenges. Regardless of party, presidents have successfully solved problems for centuries while maintaining our democracy. It is up to us, as voters, to select the next leader who will have the courage to support Ukraine in its efforts to resist Russia's military aggression, find balance at our southern border, and maintain our democracy.

President Biden continues to show that our government can work for all Americans. During the last three years, his administration has passed legislation to invest trillions of dollars to support our country. Stabilize the economy. Rebuild roads and bridges. Expand health insurance. Lower drug prices. Combat climate change. Bring computer chip production back to the US. Protect women from violence. Expand safety laws for firearms, the #1 cause of death for children in America. Defend reproductive freedoms.

In 2021, Newburyport received $5.4 million from Biden's American Rescue Plan Act. About half of this money went to improve streets and sidewalks. 

Biden has proven himself a leader of the free world. His ability to cooperate with a divided Congress has led to the passage of critical budgets, management of our debt, and financial support for countries at risk.
While Biden has put his energy into improving the country, his opponents have used fear and lies to divide us, create chaos, and take away our freedoms. Many Americans feel uncertainty. Will Social Security remain viable? Will housing become more affordable? Will reproductive rights be available to women in the future?
Democrats believe that individual people and government have the power to work together to achieve America's promise of democracy and prosperity. "Government of, by and for the people" is a future only you can ensure by voting.
                                                                   
​                                                                     VOTE! 

​Collaborators: Elizabeth Kilcoyne, Newburyport, Kathy Pasquina, Newburyport and Patricia Skibbee, West Newbury 5/20/2024

         Leave us a comment and let us know how you're supporting our Democracy in the next election!

Distracted
 
There was a sign saying "No Dogs Allowed Inside" on the front door and a sign "Beware of Dog" on the bar. Just being careful, I guess.
 
Last night we went to a MeetUp at the Lucky Labrador Café and Brewery. MeetUps are an opportunity for local people who share similar interests to gather. While we were living for a month in Portland, Oregon Denis and I found a writing group at Lucky’s.
 
A darts game was in process next to the front door when we arrived. Patrons’ dog photos lined the hallway to the entrance of the main room, which was the size of a basketball court with wood-paneled walls and cathedral ceiling. 
 
The bar stretched the length of the room and highlighted the dog beers on tap: Super Dog IPA, Wag Hazy IPA, Blue Dog Amber. All the food options were written on the wall. We ate before arriving, but everyone else drank and ate dinner. I had the Black Dog Stout. Excellent!
 
T-shirts for sale hung behind the bar: gray, blue, black, green/yellow, and yes, a black lab on the front with its tongue sticking out. I suspect another lab was on the back.
 
Large paintings of Labradors were scattered throughout the room, and a huge painting of black-and-white cows hung over the bar. At the far end of the bar stood a wilted palm plant next to the children's high chairs. A patron who seemed to have had numerous beers informed me that the palm was there at Lucky's opening in 1994, so the plant was 30 years old. Didn’t look a day over 29! 
 
On the back wall hung a lonely surfboard over an old dusty piano and more plants that could use water. Bookshelves full of tattered games of the past, like Monopoly, Scrabble, Clue, Risk, Taboo and many others, filled the rest of the wall.   
 
A wall of picture windows, trimmed in red beaded lights, looked into an enclosed alley with no obvious purpose. Assorted construction materials cluttered the ground, and a rusted door led the way out. In the alley, an elongated mural replicating Andrew Wyeth's Christina's World was painted on the wall. The young woman in the painting, Anna Christina Olson, had a degenerative muscular disorder and could not walk. She refused to use a wheelchair and crawled everywhere. I found the mural out of place in the dirty alley. Christina was a disabled woman and deserves more respect. 
 
In the middle of the room were more than 60 heavy wooden tables and chairs that were impossible to move. Most were occupied by a MeetUp of thirty-somethings playing Magic: The Gathering, created in 1993; the world’s first trading card game. Players battle each other by casting spells and trading cards.
 
Next to us was a Meetup of Women in Science. Twenty three women mentored recent college graduates about careers and opportunities in the science field. 
 
There were twelve of us in the writing MeetUp. I had intended to write a treatise about the political moments of our time, but instead I was completely distracted by my surroundings and wrote this descriptive essay of the Lucky Labrador Café and Brewery in Portland.  
 

Thanks for reading. The funny thing is I'm not a dog person. Leave me a comment.