Doctor Outspoken (A poem about doctors and free speech)

Doctor Outspoken

Dedicated to all the docs who pay for their opinions with harassment and sometimes with firing.

Oh doctor dear, we need you here!
We need you day and night!
We need your skills
At treating ills
So sick folks are alright.

Oh doctor wise, we need your eyes!
We need your healing touch!
We need your knowledge
From med school and college,
Your training all matters so much!

But doctor loud, doctor proud
we need not hear your thoughts.
You tend to complain
And you’re always a pain,
Remember that you have been bought!

Doctor mad and doctor sad,
Please silence your dissident views.
You’re here for the money
And trust me there honey,
We’ll find other doctors like you.

Oh doctor broken, doctor outspoken
We know that you have a full cup.
But don’t speak your mind
Just smile and be kind.
And oh, one more thing…just shut up.

Oh doctor mister, doctor miss,
Do keep in mind who is in charge!
You heal patients’ woes
But you’re really the foes
Of the suits and the clip-boards at large.

Doctor tired, you could be fired,
For sharing the things that you see.
You just have been ravaged
By business-folks savage;
Who think speech should never be free.

Doctor wise who tells no lies,
Thank you for fighting the fight!
If we all surrender
Then none will remember
When speaking for truth was still right.

On Veteran’s Day ask, ‘what would I die to defend?’

sentinel-377523_1280

 

Veteran’s Day has always meant something to me.  But then, I was born in 1964.  I’m the last of the ‘Baby Boomers.’  I grew up on stories of family members in time of war.  I remember my father, Keith Leap (my name also) leaving for Vietnam when I was four years old, and remember (vaguely) his return.  I recall my uncle’s stories of the Navy, and of a grandfather in the Army in Mississippi and a great-grandfather who served during the Spanish-American War.  There were others, back to the Civil War, the War of 1812 and the Revolution.

I grew up looking for dates of service on tombstones, and for flags, ranks and units of the fallen.  I grew up with toy guns, toy soldiers and war movies, in a time when we threw plastic grenades with caps in them, which sometimes actually went off and frankly surprised us.

A great-uncle I never met was a Col. in the US Army in France during WWI, and I always heard that he said he was determined to bring his men home safely.  Another great uncle gave me a bayonet he took from an ammo-dump in Italy during WWII; there appears to be a ding in the side from a bullet. A neighbor survived the Bataan Death March; not surprisingly, he suffered as an alcoholic as long as we knew him.  I once met a gracious gentleman who was a former Wehrmacht soldier, who (after a CT scan when his arms were held above his head) said ‘the last time I held my arms like that one of Patton’s soldiers had a rifle in my back!’

I was immersed in veterans and their stories.  And the ones I knew were ever humble and kind.

Was I taught to idolize war?  Was I taught that bloodshed was the answer?  Was I taught that violence was some sort of higher good, as if we were Lacedaemonian children of Sparta?

I don’t think so.  I think I was taught to idolize sacrifice, courage, and simply fortitude.  I grew up in Appalachia; fortitude was necessary, if only for my ancestors to survive against nature.

I suspect that much that these men did had less to do with bravery than determination; in practical application they can look the same, I suppose.

Many brave men and women follow that tradition of service.  They fight, are wounded and die on many fields.  They live or die by their conviction, by their camaraderie, by their patriotism and belief in something higher.

This is hardly limited to the armed forces.  Many live their convictions, in all sorts of fields of endeavor.  But what I wonder now is this:  who will die for their convictions?

We live in a time when many people, especially those in universities, are emotionally wrecked by the slightest challenge to their beliefs, the faintest intrusion into the coddled safety of their own fragile minds.  College administrators give them coloring books, Play-dough, therapy dogs.  Safe rooms are established where they can cry when things don’t go the way they perceive that they should, when there is no trophy or certificate for all.   I suppose this is included in the price of tuition?

But on Veteran’s Day, I must ask of all Americans, what beliefs will they, will we, go through life willing to die to defend?  We should all ask this. What matters most?  Faith, country, family, these are things men and women historically died for.  Ideology?  To some extent, but I wonder.

Will generations of young people learn the lesson of Veteran’s Day?  Not that they need to serve in the military to be real Americans; not that the only heroes are those in uniform, those in battle.  That is a heresy that would produce a warrior class, and we don’t need that.

The lesson, as I see it, is different.  What will you have the courage to stand up and live for, instead of lying down and weeping?  And what will you have the fortitude to die for, if it comes to that?

On this beautiful Veteran’s Day, contemplate that, whether you are or were or never were in the armed forces.  And find an answer.

The future may call on you to decide.

Living the Locums Life: A Short Guide in Four Columns

Dear reader and locums travelers, past, present or future.  These are the four columns I have recently written for Emergency Medicine News as a series about locums emergency medicine.  For now, rather than post the entire text of each, or put them in four separate posts, I am lumping them together for your ease.

I hope you find this helpful!

Sincerely,

Edwin Leap

http://journals.lww.com/em-news/Fulltext/2016/05000/Life_in_Emergistan__An_Emergency_Physician_s_Guide.2.aspx

http://journals.lww.com/em-news/Fulltext/2016/06000/LIFE_IN_EMERGISTAN__Locums_Puts_the_World_in_Your.20.aspx

http://journals.lww.com/em-news/Fulltext/2016/07000/Life_in_Emergistan__High_Rates_and_Other_Perks_of.12.aspx

http://journals.lww.com/em-news/Fulltext/2016/08000/Life_in_Emergistan__Rules_for_Locums___Be.17.aspx

 

Happy Veteran’s Day, Pop

Happy Veteran’s Day Dad!

 

first cav

I want to take a minute and honor my dad, the Rev. Keith Leap.  I have a pretty keen memory, and it reaches far into my past.  So one of my earliest memories is of my dad taking me fishing the day before he shipped out to Vietnam.  Dad was a company clerk with the 1st Cavalry Division, Airmobile.  He was in country in 1968.  There, he was in constant peril from small arms fire, rocket and mortar attacks and all the other endless ways that a war zone can end one’s life.  He was young, and thin as a rail. I can see the photos in my mind, although I don’t have any of them. But what I remember vividly is that day fishing at Twin Lakes in Huntington, WV.  I seem to recall that it was foggy, and that because I was three, most of our fishing consisted of me dropping a line into the grassy shallows next to our feet.  We never caught anything. We’re both, quite frankly, pretty abysmal outdoorsmen.  But he took the time before leaving.  That sticks. When he returned, thank God, he was posted at Fort Monroe in Hampton, VA.  We lived there a time and I loved the military feel of the place.  I remember the commissary, where there were dioramas of POWs in fake grass huts over the freezer section.  And I remember the PX, where (in that time in history) a boy could find the coolest toy guns ever, from toy belt fed machine guns to toy bazookas.  We took our guns seriously back then! I had a little uniform, with a 1st Cavalry unit patch and my name.  It was the old olive drab, and I had a helmet and a wood and steel bolt-action toy rifle with a real fake bullet in the breach.  I was the baddest of the bad!  But only because I was trying to emulate my hero. I have had an adventurous life.  I have flown to car crash scenes in a medical helicopter.  I have opened the chests of those with wounds to the heart. I have traveled the world, and I have been a consultant on WMD for the DoD.  I have married and loved a dream of a woman, and raised four children to be his grandchildren.  And yet, so much of my adventure was my attempt to equal my father’s courage and service. I was in the Air National Guard for a number of years.  I was a flight surgeon, in fact, with an F-16 squadron in Indiana.  And on the night that Desert Storm began, I was rocking babies in the nursery, an intern desperately frustrated that there was an honest to God war and I couldn’t be there.  Not that war is good.  But a man wants to match his father.  When veterans stand in church, I am always a little slow to stand.  My service cost me so little.  His could well have cost his life.  That’s why we went fishing that misty WV morning, a day so full of  import that a boy little more than a toddler still remembers it at 51. Dad ultimately became a much beloved pastor, now retired.  War did not end for him, it just became the war for the soul of man, the war eternal, of which our temporal and frequent outbreaks of international blood-letting are merely the consequence.  And for that I honor him as well.  Having been a church attending Christian for most of my adult life, I suspect that enemy fire is easier to bear than the bitter attitudes, stubbornness and outright cruelty that can emanate from so-called Christian church members. So here’s to you, Pop.  Happy Veteran’s Day. Veteran of war, veteran of fatherhood, faithful husband, committed pastor and longtime lover of Foghorn Leghorn. I say, I say, I say, You da’ man! Love you, Ed

Which Veteran’s Are We Celebrating, exactly?

IMG_2009 (1)

I found this advertisement recently.  It was a very kind attempt to honor veterans by giving them free haircuts.  I have intentionally blacked the name and address of the salon.  I mean no ill will.  It’s just an observation.  However, there’s a problem with this flier. It jumped out at me instantly.  Maybe because I played with lots of toy soldiers as a child.  Perhaps because I’ve watched a large number of war movies.

Or it could simply be because I am passionate about history.

What’s the problem?  I mean, someone made a very colorful hand-bill and then found the word soldier, or veteran or something like that and pasted the image as homage.

Many of you have already figured it out.

It appears to be a drawing of Russian Red Army soldier.  Not an American soldier.

Not that Russians or Commies don’t have veterans that they honor.  That’s their business.  But here, an image of an American veteran, past or present, might have been a wee bit more appropriate.

It’s little things like this that remind me that history matters and that all too many Americans don’t really pay attention to it.

Happy Veteran’s Day, ladies and gentlemen!  Thank you for standing for freedom.

 

A Fresh New Fundamentalism Threatens America

My column in yesterday’s Greenville News. 

 

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2015/09/11/ed-leap-face-new-threat-country/72078692/

 

If you haven’t heard the name Kim Davis lately, you’ve either been in a coma or stranded on a deserted island. If either applies to you, she is a county clerk in Rowan County, Kentucky, who refused to issue marriage licenses to same-sex (and straight) couples because of a faith-based stance against same-sex marriage. She was subsequently ordered to do so by a judge, continued to refuse, was jailed for contempt of court and then released.

She has become, in the eyes of many, the great Satan of American Christian conservatism. Unimaginable numbers of news stories, blog posts, panel discussions, op-eds, Facebook and Twitter posts and all the rest have been devoted to her. The majority of what I’ve seen are well-crafted to highlight the way in which she is a hypocritical Christian (who has been divorced more than once and has children by more than one father). Furthermore, photos of Ms. Davis are not flattering. She is, to cultural progressives, the perfect bedtime monster. She is seen as an overweight, unattractive, fundamentalist Christian hillbilly who dares to stand against both the courts and popular cultural opinion (emphasis on the second) on the issue of same-sex marriage. In other words, it’s perfectly acceptable to hate, and fear, her.

For the record, as the reader prepares an angry invective against me, I believe that Ms. Davis should have accepted the judge’s accommodation to remove her name from marriage licenses, or she should have resigned. Accommodations are compromises at the intersection of religious belief and work. Still, the law is the law and whether she agreed or not, she should have obeyed it. Render unto Caesar and all that.

Except, it doesn’t always work that way. For instance, sanctuary cities like San Francisco have officials who, on moral grounds, refuse to enforce federal immigration law. Four states have legalized recreational marijuana; thus, their state politicians simply choose to ignore federal drug laws. Anti-war protestors in the 60’s, civil rights activists in the South, radical environmental groups, all stood (or stand) against the codified laws of the time on moral (if not religious) grounds. In fact, there was a time when the granting of marriage licenses to same sex couples in California was illegal. It still happened. The furor over this issue, in light of other, more ‘acceptable’ instances of defiance, is a hypocrisy far more stunning than that of divorcee Kim Davis’ chaotic personal life.

Because of Ms. Davis, our country has again been warned of the incredible dangers of letting religion into politics. We are told that we can’t have people using government position or authority to force people to embrace a set of beliefs. Why, just think about the Christians of history and all of their cruelty towards non-believers! How horrible! Wait, that seems odd. Kim Davis was imprisoned for a belief. But remember, she’s a hick who deserves to be taught a lesson! I mean, just look at the pictures!

The most striking thing about this entire issue, and the cases of bakers and photographers declining to do same-sex weddings, etc., is that America, taught to be deathly afraid of people imposing their beliefs on others is now all about forcing beliefs on certain people. Comply, in public life and private, or be fined, jailed or asked to the door. Brendan Eich, developer of JavaScript and (among other things) Chief Technical officer and CEO of Mozilla, was forced to resign over a $1000 donation he gave, in 2008, to the California’s Proposition 8 pro-traditional marriage initiative. The Denver City Council may well refuse to allow Chic-Fil-A in the Denver International Airport because the company’s owners are opposed to same-sex marriage. The list goes on.

In truth, I’m much less worried about who marries who than I am about the religious and free speech implications that come along with same-sex marriage. And I’m far less concerned about Kim Davis being jailed than I am about the giddy delight expressed nationally by US citizens who want to see people punished for having the wrong beliefs.

Anyone who thinks this behavior isn’t the same as ‘forcing your beliefs down someone’s throat’ is simply choosing a new, shiny, post-modern fundamentalism. And First Amendment or not, it’s a dangerous and remarkably hypocritical way to run a country.

Human Trafficking; Closer Than You Think

This is my column in this month’s SC Baptist Courier.  If you have a subscription, here’s the link.

https://baptistcourier.com/2015/09/wholly-healthy-human-trafficking-closer-than-you-think/

One of the wonderful things about medicine is the insight it gives us into humanity on a daily basis. After sufficient time, a physician learns to see, simply in passing, signs of illness or injury in other people. Problems past or present jump out to our eyes. And in fact, as Christians we should develop similar skills out of love. Given that the church is called to be salt and light to the world, it makes sense for us to also serve as scouts, as ‘life-guards.’ As such, we should be constantly on the lookout for the oppressed, the suffering, those subject to cruelty and tyranny, violence and harm.

Unfortunately, in modern times one of the things we should be watching for is evidence of human trafficking. Tragically, all around the world human beings are bought and sold in enormous numbers as victims of such horrors. They are sold as sex slaves (forced into prostitution or other forms of sexual exploitation), as wage slaves (never making enough money to deliver themselves from unfair labor practices and contracts) and into frank slavery in everything from farms and factories to restaurants.

While victims of trafficking may not attend a worship service, there are other places where Christians interact with the public and where we might be able to identify, and report, those in distress. For instance, they might come to our food-banks or other church-related services like children’s festivals or community-wide parties. We might see them putting children onto a VBS bus, or simply observe them in the secular businesses where we work each week.

We can help identify these persons, and alert authorities, by knowing warning signs of human trafficking. The FBI offers a number of identifying characteristics (see also the link below): those who are victims may have no ID or money or documents. We may observe that they are closely watched and are highly controlled by others. It may be evident that they live in terrible living conditions and have poor clothing and nutrition. Furthermore, those who are victims of trafficking may report that they move frequently; or more likely be very evasive about any interaction. We should also be attentive to places where humans are behind locks and fences, or where persons have very long work hours and very little income. These same individuals may suffer wounds from abuse, work related injuries, or other illnesses for which they are not allowed to seek adequate care.

In fact, human trafficking is a problem of exploding proportions, and a business that is worth an estimated $150 billion per year worldwide which currently enslaves some 20 million humans of all ages. While in America, it typically involves foreign citizens trafficked into the US, the fact remains that about 33% of victims are US citizens. The great tragedy of human trafficking is that it preys almost exclusively on the most vulnerable of all citizens: the poor, the alien, the uneducated or undereducated, the weak, the young, substance abusers and those with mental illness. As Christians, this aspect should be particularly galling to us all.

And it should prompt us to learn how to diagnose this disease of humanity so that it can be identified, dealt with and ended.

https://www.fbi.gov/about-us/investigate/civilrights/human_trafficking

http://www.ilo.org/global/topics/forced-labour/lang–en/index.htm

Learning to Love Freedom

I have to admit that I’ve become a bit of a freedom junkie.  As a native West Virginian, there’s this desire, deep inside, to be unfettered.  When I was a child I expressed it by wandering all day long through the hills and valleys around my home.  No phone, of course, and no radio.  No way to contact, or be contacted by, anyone else.  I remember being about 13 or 14 when my dad let me go off into the woods with my single-barreled shotgun to hunt.  I never shot anything.  But I was free.

Later I was encumbered in some ways by college, medical school and residency.  But when my wife and I moved to South Carolina, and ended up in our rural, hilltop log-house, I rediscovered the deep inner peace of freedom.  Our family roams at will through the woods around our home, the state forest across the road.  On July 4th and New Year’s Eve we set off fireworks as long as we want.  On Halloween our bon-fire roars high as the tree-tops.

We throw clay-pigeons over the back yard and shoot them; we have lost untold arrows in the woods, and have behaved like barbarians for years, simply for the joy of doing what we wanted to do.  Our five dogs and three cats collude in our freedom, and have furry smiles as we sling dinner scraps over the back deck into their un-caged, happy mouths.

In 2005, my wife and I discovered a kind of liberty that we had never imagined.  We began to homeschool.  That adventure liberated us from the constraints of state-determined schedules, curricula and ideology.  It allowed us delicious, lavish time together, whether the kids were playing in the pool while rehearsing Latin declensions with my wife, or traveling to the Grand Canyon during the off-season.  We were unencumbered, and while the children learned much and learned well, we had precious little oversight to pester or constrain our wild, free time together, when we rolled about in our fragrant love for one another.  If we had known how it would be all along, we would have started homeschooling much earlier.

Two years ago, I found more freedom.  I took the plunge, left my partnership of 20 years and Jan and I started a small corporation, LeapMedicine.  I began working as an independent contractor.  I worked where, and when, I wanted.  I still do.  If I don’t want to work a holiday, I don’t.  If I want to work, I do.  If I work a shift and don’t like it, I don’t go back once my committed shifts are over.

There are costs to freedom.   It’s magnificent but unpredictable.  The cost of owning a business is sometimes daunting in America today, although I wish I had done it sooner.  There are others.  We recently tried to refinance our mortgage.  We discovered, to our chagrin, that large companies want people in communities of boxes.  You can refinance a house in a subdivision.  But a log house on a hilltop is unnerving to banks and lenders.  It isn’t the same as everyone else.  It’s less predictable, and understandably.  It may not sell.  Only so many people are comfortable away from the crowd, away from the comfort of commonality.

Indeed, we are nationally obsessed with being members of a herd.  Ask a kid in school if it’s OK to be different, the way every kid book with a quirky penguin and a sad skunk says it is.  It isn’t.  There’s a price, and it’s paid in bullying or marginalization.  Maybe it’s good training, because the same dynamic certainly exists in the world of adults.  Try saying the wrong thing, wearing the wrong emblem, believing in something unpopular, standing for a viewpoint on principle not popularity.

Bullying just takes different forms; like social media campaigns, or lawsuits.  Being marginalized means ridicule by a professor, lack of promotion by a boss, firing by a corporation.  America, the land of the free, doesn’t really like freedom these days.  Freedom means you might hurt someone’s feelings, crush their fragile self-esteem, say something shocking.  Freedom of ideas is a beautiful dream, but the kids on the adult playground of modern thought are like the bullies from our childhood, dressed up in suits, with law degrees and political offices; and with the same fragile sense of self the old bullies had.  But they have more power to punish the free, more power to torment the outlier.  Fortunately, truly free people relish their freedom so much that they become hardened to the ways of bullies and go on living in joy and liberty.

I set out to write this as an homage to homeschooling.  But as so often happens, I discovered that homeschooling, and even business ownership, are merely some of the sweet fruits of an attitude, of a decision, to be free.  It was what made America, once upon a time, a great country.  It’s what real Americans long for, live for and are willing to defend and die to preserve.

I hope that my children, and their children and all the rest can remain free.  I hope that they can thumb their collective noses at those who silence, subjugate, manipulate and ridicule those who just want to live and be left alone.  I hope they take their children on trips and walk away from unnecessary constraints.  I hope that they forge new ways to be free and remake this nation.

Freedom.  Take every step necessary to preserve yours, and your children’s.  Because once it is surrendered it does not return easily.

And once enjoyed, perhaps the most addictive thing in all the world.

The High but Worthwhile Price of Freedom. (As a physician, that is.)

http://journals.lww.com/em-news/Fulltext/2015/02000/Life_in_Emergistan__The_High_but_Worthwhile_Price.8.aspx

‘Well I know it wasn’t you who held me down

Heaven knows it wasn’t you who set me free

So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains

And we never even know we have the key.’

Already Gone, by the Eagles

While I was a attending ACEP in Chicago, I had a great talk with a fellow locums doctor. We colluded and laughed about the trials, the hassles and the travel. But we came around to something else. We agreed on this ‘mission statement,’ as it were. It could serve as the motto of every physician who works as an independent contractor, who has his or her own practice, or indeed every independent business-owner across the land. ‘Freedom isn’t free, but it’s worth the price.’

Let me explain, but let me first set the stage. Working in the locums world is a fine way to make a living, but it has its own set of struggles and problems. Travel in itself is a delight; I love seeing different parts of the country. I’ve been in five states so far, from the South Carolina low country to the mountains of Colorado. America is incredible; a place of breath-taking beauty. But leaving my wife and kids behind? That always stings a little. Besides, amazing places are always best shard with those we love best.

The logistics of travel pose their own problems, of course. Flights can be delayed (or missed, full disclosure). Baggage can be lost. Rental cars unpredictable. Hotels can be…scary. And food in some locations can be, well, uninspiring.

Another issue? Credentialing is an enormous pain in the gluteus. Between hospitals and state medical boards, I’ve answered questions, filled out forms, been background checked, finger-printed and otherwise evaluated so many times I’m starting to actually feel like I have something to hide. And honestly, I don’t!

Along with credentialing, there’s the endless request for ATLS, PALS, ACLS, BLS and all the other LS’s. Medical school, residency and board certification aren’t nearly as important as a one day course passed by pretty much every nurse in the country! (That stings a little too.)

And there’s the challenge of changing locations. Each hospital has its own culture, its own power-structure. And each typically has some vestige of old, archaic and labyrinthine rules to follow that mesh unnecessary paperwork, inadequate EMR’s and a generally inflexible medical staff office and nursing office. This can be quite frustrating to navigate. But if one likes an adventure, each hospital is its own continent to explore and conquer.

However, one of the greatest challenges is actually financial. Because the good old US of A isn’t all that keen on independent contractors. The self-employment tax is pretty high, given that I’m paying income tax as well as all of my own Social Security and Medicare costs, along with business taxes, disability and health insurance. Actually, this year our family health insurance was slated for a pretty impressive increase. We were insured through the South Carolina Medical Association, which was trying to clear out everyone in its individual market. As such, my monthly premium of $1600 (with $6000 deductible) would have increased in January to $3000-$4000 per month. (Yes, you read it correctly.) Rest assured, I have already vacated that plan for a more affordable option.

But the point is, both the financial and non-financial ‘costs’ of this sort of life are remarkable. On the other hand, there remains the freedom…

Freedom means that I work when, where and as much or as little as I desire. Freedom means that if I find the rules, regulations and culture of a hospital unpleasant or unfavorable, I don’t go back. I needn’t wait a year, or even two months. Freedom means that I arrange my life in the way that is best for my wife and children, my health, my sanity, my ethics and my financial gain.

I can take a month off, as long as I can afford it. I can travel around the nation or around the world. I am, in fact, my most important customer. I please me, and those most important to me. I am wildly unfettered in my pursuit of the best possible ‘me satisfaction score.’

Those of us who practice locums medicine may keep it up, or may change next year! We may take a new job with a new group and stay put or we may travel around the world. But we don’t have to do any of it. Whatever we do, we know the precious truth. We have valuable skills and flexibility. So we don’t have to stay if we don’t want.

The fact is that once you’ve experienced freedom, a thing too many physicians have never known, it’s tough to go back. Freedom is always out there, calling, offering adventure and opportunity and breaking long-forged, but largely imaginary, chains. It’s all there as long as you believe the benefits outweigh the costs.

For you see, freedom is indeed very expensive. But I believe, in my heart, that it’s worth the price.

A journey from leftism explained

 

 

I have largely avoided political discourse during the recent election cycle.  Mainly because to post anything, on blog or social media, is to invite an invective-filled, angry tirade by those who oppose my viewpoints.  I am weary of this sort of thing.  As I watch discussion boards and read editorials and all the rest, I find myself weary, dragged down.  Even attempts at calm, rational discussions, even presentation of facts in hopes of a middle ground, are unwelcome.

I find myself wondering about this.  Why is it so?  Why is any deviation from popular opinion, any open declaration of my conservatism, so reprehensible to some?   Let me say that I have many friends and acquaintances who are liberals.  I am convinced, in my heart, that most of them are (like most conservatives) good people who want the best for others.  And yet, there is in the left this deep anger, this heart-felt desire to eliminate rather than find common ground.  This acceptance that hate and cruelty and death wishes and intolerance are reasonable…as long as they are directed at the other side.  But are inhuman if directed back.

This article, at the link below, is an excellent discussion of the things I’ve seen in leftism.  And a beautiful elucidation of the journey from hate to love.

http://www.frontpagemag.com/2014/danusha-v-goska/ten-reasons-why-i-am-no-longer-a-leftist/

I  mean no insult to my liberal friends.  I only want to understand.  I only want us all to love one another.

Because that’s the only way both sides win.