“Dear Connor” is a collection of essays written for Connor Cunningham by his grandmother, Linda Grist Cunningham. The essays are her construct for making sense of the unraveling American community. Connor may never read them but they help her distill solutions from the cacophony that passes for discourse as America enters its crisis turning.
There’s not enough money to go around, to fulfill the promises made by Social Security, Medicare and state and federal pension systems. We can blow glitter and rainbows all over those facts, but it won’t change them.
While I can’t fix or change it as an individual, I can write about it, I can teach my son and give him the tools to deal with the mess he and his generation are going to inherit in 20 years. And I can pray that there will be others that do the same.
Being OK doesn’t mean the next several years will be moonbeams and unicorns. The next decade will be harsh, unsteady, inexplicable and frightening. We will, as a country, walk with that awesome shadow of the valley of death. History tells us that we must face our worst selves before we can create our best.
Good afternoon, Connor. I did the eye roll thing over the latest iteration of Pokemon and figured it was just another mindless time suck best left to the younguns. That was before I read these two words: AUGMENTED REALITY. No self-respecting, shiny-ball-loving geek...
Good morning, Connor. Being a grownup sucks. You're three so you're thinking about things like blue PlayDoh. You think Henny-Penny is a great kids' book about a nutso chicken, not a description of this summer's run amok world. But, yeah, being a grownup sucks because,...