This essay originally appeared on Palo Alto Patch.
My son and I watched The Green Mile the other night. You may know the story: An African-American man is falsely accused of murder, and, despite their conviction that he is innocent, his jailers are required to execute him. You see, he was given the death penalty for a crime he didn’t commit.
After the movie ended, my son shook his head (was that a tear I saw?) and said, “That just isn’t right.” Continue reading
The essay originally appeared in Palo Alto Patch.
When I was five, we traveled back to my mother’s home country of Norway to visit family. While there, we joined the nation in celebrating its National Day, an annual tradition marked by parades and speeches. I remember ticker tape falling like snow as I watched from the window of my grandfather’s office building. But it was the sea of red, white, and blue flags dancing in the breeze on that cool May day, hundreds of them held high by parade participants and viewers alike, that I remember most of all. Continue reading