I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning and turned on my Iphone to see if the released Russian prisoners had arrived in America.

This story had gotten to me; I’d been worn down by years of argument and hatred when it comes to patriotism.

There was something powerful about what I saw—it was the best of the America I love—people so happy to be home and free.

I saw President Biden give his America pin to Paul Whelan, who had been imprisoned unjustly for six years, and the two men hugged.

Donald Trump couldn’t even pretend to feel good about it, not for a second.

I felt this surge and lift in my chest, around my heart, and I realized suddenly that I felt proud and good to be an American for the first time in years.

I love this country, and I am not a mameber of the radical left, the radical right, or the radical anything. I’m the son and grandson of working-class, middle-class immigrants to America, and the thing I’ve always loved about my country is that I felt safe and free here and knew of no one who hated me for being different than them.

I was given opportunities to rise and be successful and happy.  I am not living in Putin’s sorry land.

No one in my long working life ever asked me what my political views were before hiring me or professed to hate people like me because we sometimes disagreed or might disagree.

I do not hate Donald Trump or anyone for that matter. I feel for him – he is not a healthy person, he has never been taught to tell the truth, he has no qualms about hurting people. He meets every definition of a sociopath. Look it up.

I often get angry, but I’m a poor hater.  Trump never drew me to politics; I chose to be a do-gooder to escape his politics. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life hating or arguing.

 

 

I realize now that Trump drove me far away from politics and that millions of people, many of whom are sending Kamala Harris $5 and $10 donations that add up to millions, also suffered from this. Like me, they’ve had enough. Their idea of the savior has arrived – an alternative to hate.

As if Trump wasn’t converting enough people to hate other Americans, he found a vice president who does the same thing, only less entertaingly. He makes people sick. Together, they hope to build a Nation of hate. It doesn’t seem to be working.

Every other day, I was asking this: How dare they?

All of a sudden, a lot of people profess to hate me or people “like me,” whatever that is. They’ve turned much of social media into a cesspool, a community of hatred and cruelty.

Haters love Mr. Trump, and they have been waiting for him for centuries.

The good people who support him yearn for a leader who cares about them, even if they live in the country. I don’t blame them. I feel sorry for them; they will be betrayed and abandoned once again.

But Trump is not their candidate, really; he is the candidate of the billionaires who dread a people’s revolution. The good people who can’t afford it have spent their money on hats, golden sneakers, and dinners at Mar-A-Largo.

Donald Trump took my good feelings about America away from me; I suddenly was engulfed in a sea of hate, conspiracy, and grievance.

Suddenly, it was not only all right to hate people who had different thoughts or lifestyles; it was patriotic; it was okay to threaten people with death, steal the details of their lives, put their naked photos on the Internet, invent awful crimes,  call them names, and lie.

My America was slipping away; Donald Trump had sparked a movement of haters and conspirators and bigots, and yes, well-meaning and good people who had many reasons to be unhappy with their government.

Living in the country, I learned that many of their complaints were justified; it was just a matter of time before some Donald Trump came along to exploit their hurt and anger. It’s not the first time.  I saw that Donald Trump sensed the opportunity to turn them into haters or enablers of haters—anything to keep the “others” down and in their place.

My answer was doing good – anything but politics, which I stopped ever talking about to other people. I couldn’t bear to look.

Kamala Harris made me feel better right away. Not because of her policies, I’m not quite sure what they are or will be, but one thing is clear: she is not a hater. She doesn’t exchange hatred for hatred. She seems to know who she isn’t; no one else is about to define her. She can laugh.

She doesn’t encourage hatred or justify it. So far, she hasn’t lied beyond the usual political shape-shifting.

Most of all, she smiles naturally and easily, even when viciously attacked by people who have forgotten how to smile or love and care for others. She exudes the capacity for warmth.

I loved what I saw this morning at the airport in Washington: an intense and exhilarating awareness of what it means to be an American, to feel safe and protected in America. To be free.

Not everyone in our country can say or feel that, but that is the goal, the idea, the holy grail, and what it means to me to be an American. More than anything, being an American means not hating people who differ. If that is lost, all is gone.

I am grateful to feel it again and to see that I am not alone. Kamala Harris raised $3oo million last week and is surging ahead in at least seven key states. I felt for Joe Biden last night; he reminded me he has at least one quality essential for our leaders if our democracy is to endure.

He cares about people; he is not a hater. Good for him. He’s a class act, after all.

And Kamala Harris is a smiler. That’s all I need to know for now.

It is wonderful to feel good again, like an American, and be proud of my country again.

We are waking up to the meaning of freedom and the power of empathy and compassion.

The Compassion Revolution has begun.