A Better World Is Possible: A Father's Day Note
Dear Rosie,
Two days ago you turned ten. Where does the time go?
I vividly remember the feeling of looking at you for the first time the night you were born, on the eve of Father's Day. I sang you a song (Danny Boy) that I'd sung many times into your mommy's belly. You stopped crying and gazed into my eyes with a look of recognition. Like the Grinch, my heart grew three times that day, and nothing has been the same since!
I always tell you how much I love you - more than all the stars, all the grains of sand, all the drops of water in the ocean, to infinity. But words can never quite capture the feeling. Elizabeth Stone said that "making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." That's how it is.
When I see other dads and moms with their kids, I know that they are feeling something similar. From San Francisco to Syria, Indianapolis to Iraq, the love that we parents have for our kids is universal. I've imagined from your first moments about how the collective power of love in the hearts of parents (and grandparents) everywhere could be harnessed to change the world. If we the parents demanded decisions be made with the best interests of all kids in mind, there could be no war, or children dying needlessly of preventable diseases, or inaction on the biggest problem of all -- climate change. Parents united against global warming and global warring.
And yet, when I look around in these last days of your single digit years, I see awful spasms of violence - a mad man with a gun mowing down dozens of uncles, aunts, sons, daughters in Orlando, while bombs are dropped on hospitals tending to injured children in Syria. And I see temperatures and oceans rising, ice sheets melting at an alarming rate, droughts intensifying, wildfires raging, while the presidential candidate Donald Trump says it's all a hoax invented by the Chinese (he really said that, look it up).
Reading the news, a dad could sink into despair. But that would betray the pact I made with myself when we decided to have a child--to stay hopeful that a better world is possible and that I'd do what I could to help bring such a world about. A world that is, in the words of Carl Sagan, "worthy of our children." Your birth, and the birth of each baby, is a vote for hope and determination regardless of appearances in the moment.
That's why I work with Climate Parents, a group of parents and grandparents around the country, taking action to help prevent catastrophic climate change so that we leave you and all kids everywhere a livable planet. And in doing that work every day, I see signs of hope emerging in so many places - the solar panels and wind turbines sprouting up like daffodils in springtime, the coal-fired power plants shutting down, the students suing governments for stronger climate action, the school boards voting to teach students the truth about climate change, the countries of the world agreeing in Paris to keep temperatures from rising to unbearable levels.
We may or may not do enough. Things could go either way. But when you are reading this years from now, by the light of a solar-powered lamp, know that your dad, mom, and millions of others who burned brightly with love for our kids did what we could when we knew the stakes, as we watched our hearts running around--laughing, singing, playing and dreaming of the world to be.
Love forever,
Daddy
Urgent. It's never been this bad.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission from the outset was simple. To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It’s never been this bad out there. And it’s never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed and doing some of its best and most important work, the threats we face are intensifying. Right now, with just four days to go in our Spring Campaign, we are not even halfway to our goal. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Can you make a gift right now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? There is no backup plan or rainy day fund. There is only you. —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Dear Rosie,
Two days ago you turned ten. Where does the time go?
I vividly remember the feeling of looking at you for the first time the night you were born, on the eve of Father's Day. I sang you a song (Danny Boy) that I'd sung many times into your mommy's belly. You stopped crying and gazed into my eyes with a look of recognition. Like the Grinch, my heart grew three times that day, and nothing has been the same since!
I always tell you how much I love you - more than all the stars, all the grains of sand, all the drops of water in the ocean, to infinity. But words can never quite capture the feeling. Elizabeth Stone said that "making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." That's how it is.
When I see other dads and moms with their kids, I know that they are feeling something similar. From San Francisco to Syria, Indianapolis to Iraq, the love that we parents have for our kids is universal. I've imagined from your first moments about how the collective power of love in the hearts of parents (and grandparents) everywhere could be harnessed to change the world. If we the parents demanded decisions be made with the best interests of all kids in mind, there could be no war, or children dying needlessly of preventable diseases, or inaction on the biggest problem of all -- climate change. Parents united against global warming and global warring.
And yet, when I look around in these last days of your single digit years, I see awful spasms of violence - a mad man with a gun mowing down dozens of uncles, aunts, sons, daughters in Orlando, while bombs are dropped on hospitals tending to injured children in Syria. And I see temperatures and oceans rising, ice sheets melting at an alarming rate, droughts intensifying, wildfires raging, while the presidential candidate Donald Trump says it's all a hoax invented by the Chinese (he really said that, look it up).
Reading the news, a dad could sink into despair. But that would betray the pact I made with myself when we decided to have a child--to stay hopeful that a better world is possible and that I'd do what I could to help bring such a world about. A world that is, in the words of Carl Sagan, "worthy of our children." Your birth, and the birth of each baby, is a vote for hope and determination regardless of appearances in the moment.
That's why I work with Climate Parents, a group of parents and grandparents around the country, taking action to help prevent catastrophic climate change so that we leave you and all kids everywhere a livable planet. And in doing that work every day, I see signs of hope emerging in so many places - the solar panels and wind turbines sprouting up like daffodils in springtime, the coal-fired power plants shutting down, the students suing governments for stronger climate action, the school boards voting to teach students the truth about climate change, the countries of the world agreeing in Paris to keep temperatures from rising to unbearable levels.
We may or may not do enough. Things could go either way. But when you are reading this years from now, by the light of a solar-powered lamp, know that your dad, mom, and millions of others who burned brightly with love for our kids did what we could when we knew the stakes, as we watched our hearts running around--laughing, singing, playing and dreaming of the world to be.
Love forever,
Daddy
Dear Rosie,
Two days ago you turned ten. Where does the time go?
I vividly remember the feeling of looking at you for the first time the night you were born, on the eve of Father's Day. I sang you a song (Danny Boy) that I'd sung many times into your mommy's belly. You stopped crying and gazed into my eyes with a look of recognition. Like the Grinch, my heart grew three times that day, and nothing has been the same since!
I always tell you how much I love you - more than all the stars, all the grains of sand, all the drops of water in the ocean, to infinity. But words can never quite capture the feeling. Elizabeth Stone said that "making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." That's how it is.
When I see other dads and moms with their kids, I know that they are feeling something similar. From San Francisco to Syria, Indianapolis to Iraq, the love that we parents have for our kids is universal. I've imagined from your first moments about how the collective power of love in the hearts of parents (and grandparents) everywhere could be harnessed to change the world. If we the parents demanded decisions be made with the best interests of all kids in mind, there could be no war, or children dying needlessly of preventable diseases, or inaction on the biggest problem of all -- climate change. Parents united against global warming and global warring.
And yet, when I look around in these last days of your single digit years, I see awful spasms of violence - a mad man with a gun mowing down dozens of uncles, aunts, sons, daughters in Orlando, while bombs are dropped on hospitals tending to injured children in Syria. And I see temperatures and oceans rising, ice sheets melting at an alarming rate, droughts intensifying, wildfires raging, while the presidential candidate Donald Trump says it's all a hoax invented by the Chinese (he really said that, look it up).
Reading the news, a dad could sink into despair. But that would betray the pact I made with myself when we decided to have a child--to stay hopeful that a better world is possible and that I'd do what I could to help bring such a world about. A world that is, in the words of Carl Sagan, "worthy of our children." Your birth, and the birth of each baby, is a vote for hope and determination regardless of appearances in the moment.
That's why I work with Climate Parents, a group of parents and grandparents around the country, taking action to help prevent catastrophic climate change so that we leave you and all kids everywhere a livable planet. And in doing that work every day, I see signs of hope emerging in so many places - the solar panels and wind turbines sprouting up like daffodils in springtime, the coal-fired power plants shutting down, the students suing governments for stronger climate action, the school boards voting to teach students the truth about climate change, the countries of the world agreeing in Paris to keep temperatures from rising to unbearable levels.
We may or may not do enough. Things could go either way. But when you are reading this years from now, by the light of a solar-powered lamp, know that your dad, mom, and millions of others who burned brightly with love for our kids did what we could when we knew the stakes, as we watched our hearts running around--laughing, singing, playing and dreaming of the world to be.
Love forever,
Daddy