I was ignoring the booms. He was busy, too.
It took at least a half hour of background sound before he said what I was thinking and together we headed outside. Because it is the Fourth, and because it is what we always do, and so we watched.
You can see the highest of the fireworks over the Bay from behind the neighbors’ trees. No crowds, no cars.
There was a bright red and green one that suddenly seemed for all the world like a line of Christmas lights–being shattered. The promise of the Christ Child, of compassion and love eternal offered freely to all: America’s leader wants no part of that.
We are shattered at those concentration camps where children are being held. Where the workers will be fired if they comfort and hold a child, where they are instead following orders to deny them adequate food, water, changes of clothes or diapers, warmth, sleep, everything.
Where the teenage prisoners love and tend to the small children who were before this strangers to them, and yet not one of our own people has found it within themselves to yell, with or without cameras running, Then go ahead and fire me! I dare you to tell me I can’t hug this crying baby! What is WRONG with you?!
But they don’t. For what? A paycheck? Thirty pieces of silver is a hard, hard currency.
And so those seeking asylum and comfort from us take those smaller children into their own arms while they are still children themselves and they shame us by their grace.
All they ask is that we honor our own asylum laws, as have they, and offer them a fair hearing.
And their parents back.