Legacy
I’ve heard people ask several times now: “What will your grandchildren think about what you did or didn’t do?” I heard it again today regarding Chuck Grassley—the ninety-two-year-old Chuck Grassley.
If his descendants aren’t already speaking out or telling Grandpa to “do the right thing,” they are aligned with him. They are in lockstep with their ancestors. Much like the phrase “walking in someone’s shoes,” I see no merit in the anecdote.
This is why, despite several legislative attempts, racism remains prominent and prevalent. It’s generational; it’s in the blood and perhaps even in the bones. There are too few exceptions—Mary Trump or a few of the Kennedys, for instance.
It has been a while since I read about Mitch McConnell’s daughters. I don’t know Chuck Grassley’s family, or Susan Collins’, or anyone else’s who has, in my opinion, been on the wrong side of history—not just in terms of the law and the Constitution, but in terms of simple human decency and the protection of liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Not all of us need a billion or a trillion dollars to be happy; most don’t even need a million. How hard would it be for leaders to stay out of certain elements of our private lives and instead work diligently to protect us from war, famine, disease, and financial ruin?
I recall one of the first “casualties” of the current regime: a woman who had her dream job with the National Parks. Her family cheered for the administration rather than supporting their own daughter. I can’t imagine that, yet I am certain it happens all over the country—not just regarding National Park jobs, but for those who are Black, Brown, or LGBTQ+.
When does your blood break for politics instead of for you? What was the exact moment that policy entered our bodies, our homes, and the way we live inside those walls? When did it begin to dictate the decisions we make for our health, how we spend our money, or what religion we choose for ourselves?
What is legacy?
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