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A Lantern in the Rain — A Beacon in Dark Times
a statue of abraham lincoln holding a cane
Photo by Simon Ray on Unsplash

A Lantern in the Rain — A Beacon in Dark Times

Around 9 PM on May 1, 1865, John Ring lit his lamp and headed to the horse barn. A steady rain was falling. He hung the light on a hook, scanned the stalls, checked the bridle and harness, and moved to the horse. Then he filled the lanterns with kerosene and began rigging the wagon.

Inside, Mary dressed in proper attire and made sure the children — John Jr. (17), Julia (14), Belle (10), Patrick (8), and little Martin (4) — were ready. John Jr., Julia, and Belle would walk behind the wagon in the rain; Mary, John, Patrick, and Martin would ride under a tarp. It would be a two-hour trip to Joliet. They started down the nearly pitch-black road, the wagon rocking in potholes.

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The worst deal in the history of deals

U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio speaks with U.S. President Donald Trump during a Cabinet meeting in the Cabinet Room of the White House on May 27, 2026 in Washington, D.C. Trump met with his Cabinet days after saying a peace deal with Iran was“ largely negotiated” amid expectations around the re-opening the Strait of Hormuz.

(Getty Images)

The worst deal in the history of deals

As a former Republican, sometimes it’s fun to look back on the things we — I was part of a “we” at one time — criticized Democrats for, and not all that long ago.

Remember, if you will, when Republicans condemned former President Bill Clinton for pardoning his brother and his corrupt donor friend Marc Rich?

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July 4th and the American Faith We’ve Watched Slip Away

Kids and families celebrate the US Bicentennial near the New York Harbor in Lower Manhattan. Taken on July 4, 1976 in New York City, New York.

(Photo by David Attie/Getty Images.)

July 4th and the American Faith We’ve Watched Slip Away

I was a girl in Philadelphia in the summer when America turned 200. The birthplace of America was electric in a way I've never forgotten — crowds stretching from the art museum steps down to the Delaware River, each city block corded off for parades, cookouts, celebrations, and the kind of noise that felt like belonging.

It was also, I know now, a particular kind of American moment — one that required something beyond good weather and a long weekend. It required a belief that the country and its highest office still belonged to all of us.

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