We have a choice.

Last edited Sun Jul 19, 2015, 10:31 PM - Edit history (7)

I grew up in Georgia. My early years were spent in a small college town located next door to Plains, GA - what later became known as Jimmy Carter country. It was the early 60's and my family had always been politically active democrats. My father and Jimmy Carter were good friends, he even wrote about my father in one of his books. I don't want to go into any real detail about how they became friends or all they accomplished together, but I will say that they seemed like heroes to me. They were fighting for civil rights during my childhood, and as an education and trial lawyer, my father found himself at the heart of the civil rights movement. The myriad ways segregation impacted my life still resonates with me today, and even trickles down to my children. For example, one fine Sunday morning around 1965, Congressman Elijah Cummings and 3 other African Americans tried to enter our all-white Methodist Church in my hometown. They were blocked from entering, so they knelt on the ground in front of the marble steps and soaring columns and prayed. There is a famous photo of that day. Large white men are standing between the columns looking like thugs, with 4 African Americans, dressed in their Sunday best, at the bottom of the steps, kneeling in prayer. My father was given a copy of that photograph. It's a powerful image. That was my last day of church. I vividly remember my father protesting what was happening with the words, "God welcomes all of His children in His home." A few days later, the church elders sent a lackey to our house requesting that we not return. I never a joined a church again.

My father came from a large family with 8 kids. One of my uncles became the Secretary of the State of GA and served honorably for over 30 years. The democratic party wanted my uncle to run for Governor. Because he was so popular, there was no question that he would win. But he refused, saying that if he were to run for Governor he would have to become a politician, and he never wanted to be that. He wanted to serve the state he loved so dearly as a "statesman". He was a colorful character and truly loved by so many, but one reason he was so loved was because he did what was best for Georgia. He followed the law, not his party, and not the political whims of the powerful. There is a famous story about the 3 Governors Controversy of GA. It is a wild tale and involved my uncle:

My uncle died in office, and I remember the headlines of the Atlanta Journal: "Georgia's Last Statesman Has Died". He was given a state memorial, and his coffin was on display in the capitol rotunda. There are buildings and highways named after him today, and people still remember his stories. I have always been very proud of him.

All of my uncles and my father served in the military. I remember so well my Uncle Charles talking about World War II. He was stationed on a small island in the Pacific. As he puts it, it was the dullest post of the entire war. He never saw any real action. I don't recall the exact story of how the Americans gained control of the island, but I do know that there were some Japanese soldiers who had been left behind, or perhaps had deserted. They lived in the jungle and were afraid of becoming prisoners of war. They were no threat to the Americans. My uncle told me that he and the other American soldiers sometimes saw them and were aware these Japanese men were emaciated and starving. So, the Americans stationed on that island placed blankets and food and other sundry items where these men could get them. In this way, they helped them survive in the wild until the war was over. Before they left, they went into the jungle and tried to let them know the war had ended and they could come out.

In the mid-1980's, I moved to Berlin. I lived with a large and wonderful family during my first few months in Germany. The father of that family had also fought in WWII. He had been captured by the Russians and lived for 5 years in a Russian POW camp. His family told me that he refused to talk about that time of his life. I have no idea what hardships he endured. I lived in Berlin for 12 years, and during that time, I heard a multitude of war stories. I learned an awful lot about the Germans, and understood their remorse and shame around the Holocaust. As an American, however, the Germans wanted me to know one thing - as the Russians and the Americans were marching toward Berlin - one from the east and the other from the west - the Berliners hoped the Americans would get there first. The Russians were brutal in war, and the Americans were known for being fair. We did not torture our prisoners, and we did not commit crimes against humanity. We were the good guys. As it happened, the Russians and the Americans finally met at the River Elbe, where it was decided that the Russians would take Berlin.

These are the stories and the heroes that have shaped my identity as an American and a Democrat. As a nation, we have had segregation, but the good guys fought it. We have had elections that were unsettled, but the Secretary of State and the Supreme Court did the right thing. We have been the good guys in war, and held the beacon of light for freedom.

Today, I weep for Trayvon and Michael, Eric, John and Tamir. I watch as my Supreme Court decides almost all cases along party lines, including, at one point, the Presidency. I hear about my country waterboarding and rectally feeding and threatening to rape mothers of prisoners...Oh my heart breaks. What have we become?

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My teenage daughter recently lied to me and a teacher about a paper she was supposed to write. She wasn't done with it so she came up with a tall tale about how Google docs ate her paper. The teacher granted her another day. That evening, as I tried to help my daughter retrieve the phantom paper from Google docs, she tearfully confessed her sins. I told her she had a choice. She could quickly write a paper and turn it in, and, with her talent in writing, she would probably get a hundred. But how would she feel about that hundred? I told her there was only one path to salvation: she had to go in the next morning and confess to her teacher. I told her it would be hard, and the teacher might give her a zero; but, one thing I was certain: she would own that zero with honor. And, I told her, it would probably be the most important grade of her entire school years ever. My daughter knew what she had to do. She was very frightened and asked me to walk into the building with her that morning for support. I am so proud of her for ultimately doing the right thing. The teacher was very gracious and was so moved by my daughter's honesty that she gave her another chance.

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We, as a nation...we have a choice.