2022

Dear Harry,

So here we are in 2022! Hard to believe. In 1922 you were already 17 years old, seven years older than your youngest great-grandson Luka. Since the year of your birth there have been two world wars that cost countless millions of lives, not to mention literally dozens of other wars, some small, some big, all of them pitching human beings against each other in increasingly barbarous and inhumane hostilities. You'd think we might have learned something from the barbarous 20th century, but here we are, well into the 21st and still unable to live together in peace and harmony.

Here in America, we can't even come together in the battle against the deadly coronavirus that has already taken nearly 900,000 American lives--despite the fact that we know how it could be contained. We face an election that could well result in the end of democracy in this country, perhaps even worldwide. Our politics and culture, both, are clouded by delusion, misinformation, and outright lies that no one appears able to contain. If we continue in this way, the bullies will soon have taken over the schoolroom and the teachers will have left. The result will inevitably the rule of unreason and chaos. 

I'm sorry to be painting so bleak a picture, Harry, at the start of this New Year. You and Peggy left this world before the advent of the 21st century; you could scarcely imagine what has happened since. It would appall every humanitarian value that you represented in your life. It certainly appalls me. You had your God to turn to. Unless she's a cruel and cynical jokester, I'm afraid I don't. Will our children and grandchildren make a better job of stewarding this world and taking care of other human beings than we have done? I hope so.

Sadly, then, your son, Peter