I recall my youth fondly. I often refer to it as an “All American Childhood”. The story book upbringing of both parents ever present, tree-lined streets of which I could play freely without fear or want. Both of my Grandparents were always present: My fathers parents just a few blocks from where I grew up, and my mothers parents just out of town on land I later came to know was where my Grandfathers family farm once stood. I was raised on stories of their collective past. I was guided by parents and grandparents good judgement which was further bolstered by my public education instilling in me a strong sense of self, of my duty as a citizen and to carry myself both morally and ethically throughout my life. To understand what was right and what was wrong and to understand and discern the differences between those two. To think critically and to think before I act. To understand that often collective action to arrive at a solution was never a straight line: It takes rigorous debate and a mutual respect of ideas. I was taught to be cautious of judging your neighbor too quickly. Slowly over time, to approach others difficulty with compassion and empathy and to truly understand someone is to walk in their shoes for a time. That greatness was measured in deeds and action which spoke for themselves. I came to realize through that same public education and the words of my parents and grandparents that what I was living was a grand experiment. The American experiment. The experiment that is based on a promise: That we all shall be afforded Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. This was translated in real time through what I lived and observed of my parents, of my grandparents and of my friends and their family. As I’ve grown, I’ve come to learn and to come to grips with that this experiment is an imperfect one. That there have been harsh realities of our collective past of which history is a guide so those of us in the here and now can leverage as a tool so as not to repeat the past.
That same history was shared history and that my family had its place in the nations timeline. My paternal Grandparents were German. My maternal grandparents were Polish and Irish. All were immigrants. Each and every one of them had reasons for coming to take part in this grand imperfect experiment with a promise of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. From what I understand, the Paternal German side arrived in the mid-1700’s to farm and make a better life. The Maternal Polish side I’ve come to understand were escaping the rise of forced eviction and cultural suppression of Poles by the Prussian/German governments in the long shadow of WWI and the eventuality of WWII and the holocaust. Most recently, I’ve learned of those who stayed behind, helped to hide Jewish neighbors in their barn only to be detained and sent off to concentration camps. Of the Irish side, I don’t know much but I imagine they arrived here on American soil with hopes of that same promise. I now realize that some of these stories I’d overheard as a child, have had a profound impact on my subconscious: The story of my Great Grandmother witnessing her best friend executed while she hid in a wheat field. As a young kid, bearing witness to my best friends Ukrainian Grandparents tattoos on their arms having survived internment in Auschwitz. As a young child my father explaining to me that our last name was technically “Heinrich” but in the build up to WWI, it was anglicized to “Henry” as a precaution from being interned in U.S. German Camps. Or, upon arrival, my Great Grandparents last name, which was originally spelled “Malaszycki” was made to sound more “American” changing it to “Malasky”. I’m fighting tears right now as I write these words. These stories and what my eyes witnessed cast long shadows over my youth. And they reminded me then as they do now of my utter and complete gratefulness of my family and of my friends family’s service and sacrifice so that I could enjoy the youth and upbringing of peace without fear I so enjoyed.
As I’ve grown, I’ve taken my place amongst my neighbors and my fellow citizens in search of that same pursuit of happiness; starting my own business and striving for both fulfillment as a human and to continually learn and grow as a man. To better myself and strive to be the best of who I can become with compassion and empathy for those who are less fortunate as I have been. I’ve participated in my civic duty as a citizen and cast my vote with my conscience. To throw in my lot with those who I felt had the best solutions for which difficulties we’ve faced as a Nation, this imperfect experiment. Slowly over time, I’ve watched as the experiment has become rotten from the core. I’ve watched idly from my field as a few small, covetous, greedy men strive to enrich themselves at the expense of the many. I’ve watched idly from my field, tending my plow, as those who would seek power seek it purely for powers sake. I’ve bore witness to those in power who have gone out of their way to sow seeds of distrust in our institutions simply to cast doubt on the very institutions meant to serve its citizens. To render institutions dysfunctional to further sow those seeds of distrust only to be dismantled, stripped for its parts and sell out those of U.S. who are less fortunate and most vulnerable. And to who? And for what? To divide U.S. To sow seeds of doubt and frustration. To spread fear and distrust not only in our institutions but to spread that same fear and distrust to our neighbors and our neighbors neighbors. To see each other as enemies to be feared and loathed. I’ve stood by in frustration as that same government has slow rolled any comprehensive immigration reform for decades all with the sole purpose to leverage it as a means to bring frustrated voters to the polls. Never mind that same government has refused to take action and when action is taken, render any program or policy dysfunctional at best. I’ve taken pause in my field and watched in disbelief as one of the oldest tricks in the books has been foisted upon all of U.S.: That my problems and your problems? Those who are to blame are immigrants. Those of us who seek refuge and sanctity are the reason for all of our collective problems. As I stated above, history is a guide: This has always been so. Germans. Irish. Polish. Mexicans. Anyone “different”. Our elected officials have failed U.S. Our institutions meant to protect us have been weakened. The 4th Estate, the media, have abandoned truth and accountability for clicks and ratings. Social media has created echo chambers where our deepest fears and frustrations are amplified and reinforced. Those same small, greedy, covetous few have enriched themselves at our collective expense. They have purposefully broken the publics trust to distract U.S. Their future is not one for which I share a vision. From what I’ve witnessed, the reality in which they wish to create is abhorrent to my very being.
So, I stand in my field and I must now put down my plow, and pick up my pen: What I’ve witnessed in Minnesota and across the nation have utterly and completely smashed the reality I once knew. The pride, sacred honor and belief in this grand imperfect experiment have been replaced by shame. Shame for those stars. Shame for those stripes. Compassion over fills my cup for those less fortunate than I and for those who are profiled simply for the color of their skin. Empathy for those communities who know no freedom, who know no peace and live in fear. To my friends, colleagues and bicycle industry partners in the eye of the storm: Know that my heart aches for you. Know that I stand with you. My silence has grown untenable. And so I can no longer be silent.
Pride has been replaced with something dangerous: Anger. Complete and pure in its nature. Unadulterated rage. I’ve struggled with those feelings. Suppressing them as an American citizen. Current events have come to a boiling point within my bones. This great experiment of ours rests atop a foundational principle: Due process, accountability and equal protection under the laws by which govern our shared experiment. Those laws apply to and are granted to anyone, ANYONE standing on American soil regardless of citizenship. Those few, small, covetous, greedy men have decided they can break and bend the law to their own purpose. That these same laws that govern the many don’t apply to those few amongst U.S. Those few small, covetous, greedy, men have employed those amongst us who would see their vision become reality. They’ve in so many ways granted them immunity to operate above and beyond our laws, above any accountability and to carry out their collective vision with impunity. They hide behind their masks to strike fear into our fellow man. “Res ipsa loquitur” never has been more acute. Those “Troops of Tomorrow” my punk rock youth sang of are here today. I look to my sword, which is under lock and key, reluctantly. And there are those amongst us who would use “whataboutism” leveraging previous administrations faults and wrongs to obfuscate current administrations deeds and policies to muddy our collective understanding of what is transpiring before our very eyes. My only answer to this is that past wrongs do not justify nor do they make current wrongs right.
And so a line has been drawn. Slowly, this same line has been drawn. We’ve been in a collective haze to recognize or see this proverbial line. And so I must pick up my pen and ask a question: When is the time to stand and be heard? I have an answer: Now is the time to stand and be heard. I say to my fellow Americans: Today is the day to stand. Today is the day to speak out. Today is the time for collective action. Today is the day. Do not put off till tomorrow for what you can do right here, right now.
I’m often reminded of a latin phrase I learned as a teenager. It was in the back of my latin text book amongst a chapter of notable quotes and its been embedded in my minds eye since first reading about its history: “Hoc voluerunt”. According to history, these are the words Julius Caesar spoke when surveying the slaughter and his victory at the Battle of Pharsalus in 48BC. Its translation is “They would have it so” or “They wished for this”. I do not wish for my fellow Americans to reach this end. To be embroiled in argument. To refuse collective action in favor of distrust and anger. To be bogged down by disagreement. To be further divided by a small, covetous, greedy few amongst U.S. To reach for violence. My call to my fellow Americans: We have far more in common than those which we differ. We can agree to disagree with mutual respect for each others ideas and ideals. Let the pen and rigorous debate so the best ideas can be put forth win the day. Refuse to be divided. Refuse to comply. Refuse to kneel down and obey. Refuse to blame those less fortunate and those of us most vulnerable for our collective problems. Those same problems are our collective challenge. Do not let those small, greedy, covetous few distract U.S. Do not let them lay blame on the threshold of those of us who are less fortunate when it is they who are to blame. We must meet this moment. Stand up today. Speak out today. Those are my stars. Those are my stripes. This is my country for which I stand.
The Plow, the Pen and the Sword
I recall my youth fondly. I often refer to it as an “All American Childhood”. The story book upbringing of both parents ever present, tree-lined streets of which I could play freely without fear or want. Both of my Grandparents were always present: My fathers parents just a few blocks from where I grew up, and my mothers parents just out of town on land I later came to know was where my Grandfathers family farm once stood. I was raised on stories of their collective past. I was guided by parents and grandparents good judgement which was further bolstered by my public education instilling in me a strong sense of self, of my duty as a citizen and to carry myself both morally and ethically throughout my life. To understand what was right and what was wrong and to understand and discern the differences between those two. To think critically and to think before I act. To understand that often collective action to arrive at a solution was never a straight line: It takes rigorous debate and a mutual respect of ideas. I was taught to be cautious of judging your neighbor too quickly. Slowly over time, to approach others difficulty with compassion and empathy and to truly understand someone is to walk in their shoes for a time. That greatness was measured in deeds and action which spoke for themselves. I came to realize through that same public education and the words of my parents and grandparents that what I was living was a grand experiment. The American experiment. The experiment that is based on a promise: That we all shall be afforded Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. This was translated in real time through what I lived and observed of my parents, of my grandparents and of my friends and their family. As I’ve grown, I’ve come to learn and to come to grips with that this experiment is an imperfect one. That there have been harsh realities of our collective past of which history is a guide so those of us in the here and now can leverage as a tool so as not to repeat the past.
That same history was shared history and that my family had its place in the nations timeline. My paternal Grandparents were German. My maternal grandparents were Polish and Irish. All were immigrants. Each and every one of them had reasons for coming to take part in this grand imperfect experiment with a promise of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. From what I understand, the Paternal German side arrived in the mid-1700’s to farm and make a better life. The Maternal Polish side I’ve come to understand were escaping the rise of forced eviction and cultural suppression of Poles by the Prussian/German governments in the long shadow of WWI and the eventuality of WWII and the holocaust. Most recently, I’ve learned of those who stayed behind, helped to hide Jewish neighbors in their barn only to be detained and sent off to concentration camps. Of the Irish side, I don’t know much but I imagine they arrived here on American soil with hopes of that same promise. I now realize that some of these stories I’d overheard as a child, have had a profound impact on my subconscious: The story of my Great Grandmother witnessing her best friend executed while she hid in a wheat field. As a young kid, bearing witness to my best friends Ukrainian Grandparents tattoos on their arms having survived internment in Auschwitz. As a young child my father explaining to me that our last name was technically “Heinrich” but in the build up to WWI, it was anglicized to “Henry” as a precaution from being interned in U.S. German Camps. Or, upon arrival, my Great Grandparents last name, which was originally spelled “Malaszycki” was made to sound more “American” changing it to “Malasky”. I’m fighting tears right now as I write these words. These stories and what my eyes witnessed cast long shadows over my youth. And they reminded me then as they do now of my utter and complete gratefulness of my family and of my friends family’s service and sacrifice so that I could enjoy the youth and upbringing of peace without fear I so enjoyed.
As I’ve grown, I’ve taken my place amongst my neighbors and my fellow citizens in search of that same pursuit of happiness; starting my own business and striving for both fulfillment as a human and to continually learn and grow as a man. To better myself and strive to be the best of who I can become with compassion and empathy for those who are less fortunate as I have been. I’ve participated in my civic duty as a citizen and cast my vote with my conscience. To throw in my lot with those who I felt had the best solutions for which difficulties we’ve faced as a Nation, this imperfect experiment. Slowly over time, I’ve watched as the experiment has become rotten from the core. I’ve watched idly from my field as a few small, covetous, greedy men strive to enrich themselves at the expense of the many. I’ve watched idly from my field, tending my plow, as those who would seek power seek it purely for powers sake. I’ve bore witness to those in power who have gone out of their way to sow seeds of distrust in our institutions simply to cast doubt on the very institutions meant to serve its citizens. To render institutions dysfunctional to further sow those seeds of distrust only to be dismantled, stripped for its parts and sell out those of U.S. who are less fortunate and most vulnerable. And to who? And for what? To divide U.S. To sow seeds of doubt and frustration. To spread fear and distrust not only in our institutions but to spread that same fear and distrust to our neighbors and our neighbors neighbors. To see each other as enemies to be feared and loathed. I’ve stood by in frustration as that same government has slow rolled any comprehensive immigration reform for decades all with the sole purpose to leverage it as a means to bring frustrated voters to the polls. Never mind that same government has refused to take action and when action is taken, render any program or policy dysfunctional at best. I’ve taken pause in my field and watched in disbelief as one of the oldest tricks in the books has been foisted upon all of U.S.: That my problems and your problems? Those who are to blame are immigrants. Those of us who seek refuge and sanctity are the reason for all of our collective problems. As I stated above, history is a guide: This has always been so. Germans. Irish. Polish. Mexicans. Anyone “different”. Our elected officials have failed U.S. Our institutions meant to protect us have been weakened. The 4th Estate, the media, have abandoned truth and accountability for clicks and ratings. Social media has created echo chambers where our deepest fears and frustrations are amplified and reinforced. Those same small, greedy, covetous few have enriched themselves at our collective expense. They have purposefully broken the publics trust to distract U.S. Their future is not one for which I share a vision. From what I’ve witnessed, the reality in which they wish to create is abhorrent to my very being.
So, I stand in my field and I must now put down my plow, and pick up my pen: What I’ve witnessed in Minnesota and across the nation have utterly and completely smashed the reality I once knew. The pride, sacred honor and belief in this grand imperfect experiment have been replaced by shame. Shame for those stars. Shame for those stripes. Compassion over fills my cup for those less fortunate than I and for those who are profiled simply for the color of their skin. Empathy for those communities who know no freedom, who know no peace and live in fear. To my friends, colleagues and bicycle industry partners in the eye of the storm: Know that my heart aches for you. Know that I stand with you. My silence has grown untenable. And so I can no longer be silent.
Pride has been replaced with something dangerous: Anger. Complete and pure in its nature. Unadulterated rage. I’ve struggled with those feelings. Suppressing them as an American citizen. Current events have come to a boiling point within my bones. This great experiment of ours rests atop a foundational principle: Due process, accountability and equal protection under the laws by which govern our shared experiment. Those laws apply to and are granted to anyone, ANYONE standing on American soil regardless of citizenship. Those few, small, covetous, greedy men have decided they can break and bend the law to their own purpose. That these same laws that govern the many don’t apply to those few amongst U.S. Those few small, covetous, greedy, men have employed those amongst us who would see their vision become reality. They’ve in so many ways granted them immunity to operate above and beyond our laws, above any accountability and to carry out their collective vision with impunity. They hide behind their masks to strike fear into our fellow man. “Res ipsa loquitur” never has been more acute. Those “Troops of Tomorrow” my punk rock youth sang of are here today. I look to my sword, which is under lock and key, reluctantly. And there are those amongst us who would use “whataboutism” leveraging previous administrations faults and wrongs to obfuscate current administrations deeds and policies to muddy our collective understanding of what is transpiring before our very eyes. My only answer to this is that past wrongs do not justify nor do they make current wrongs right.
And so a line has been drawn. Slowly, this same line has been drawn. We’ve been in a collective haze to recognize or see this proverbial line. And so I must pick up my pen and ask a question: When is the time to stand and be heard? I have an answer: Now is the time to stand and be heard. I say to my fellow Americans: Today is the day to stand. Today is the day to speak out. Today is the time for collective action. Today is the day. Do not put off till tomorrow for what you can do right here, right now.
I’m often reminded of a latin phrase I learned as a teenager. It was in the back of my latin text book amongst a chapter of notable quotes and its been embedded in my minds eye since first reading about its history: “Hoc voluerunt”. According to history, these are the words Julius Caesar spoke when surveying the slaughter and his victory at the Battle of Pharsalus in 48BC. Its translation is “They would have it so” or “They wished for this”. I do not wish for my fellow Americans to reach this end. To be embroiled in argument. To refuse collective action in favor of distrust and anger. To be bogged down by disagreement. To be further divided by a small, covetous, greedy few amongst U.S. To reach for violence. My call to my fellow Americans: We have far more in common than those which we differ. We can agree to disagree with mutual respect for each others ideas and ideals. Let the pen and rigorous debate so the best ideas can be put forth win the day. Refuse to be divided. Refuse to comply. Refuse to kneel down and obey. Refuse to blame those less fortunate and those of us most vulnerable for our collective problems. Those same problems are our collective challenge. Do not let those small, greedy, covetous few distract U.S. Do not let them lay blame on the threshold of those of us who are less fortunate when it is they who are to blame. We must meet this moment. Stand up today. Speak out today. Those are my stars. Those are my stripes. This is my country for which I stand.