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A Letter from the Earth
22 January 2017
We miss you. More than you know.
Here on earth, things are getting exciting. You wouldn’t recognize the place. People are saying “Merry Christmas,” “God Bless America,” “Hail to the Troops,” and things we haven’t heard in ages. People are laughing again, throwing parties, greeting strangers in the street, even in the frozen north. The hours have taken on a lovely hue.
Of course, where you are, you mark time differently. Here, is it too often measured in shades of suffering. For 8 years, we had a president who did not seem to love America. Or care about Americans. We were desolate, inconsolable. We had lost hope.
That has all changed.
You would love him, our new President. His name is Trump, and he is a true original. He’s just an ordinary guy with ordinary defects. The difference is he has this amazing core—a solid center. He is what you used to describe as “educable.” He was a diamond in the rough. Now, he has begun to shine.
He is real, Pop. So real. Even his flaws are authentic.
But you wouldn’t have judged him, anyway. I know that. Your approach was to affirm the good and try to improve the rest. That’s how you lived.
How I wished you had been here for all of it! Though, in your way, I know you are aware. Aware of the tremendous hope that has infused the country, the positive energy that is coursing through the veins of our country like a speeding train. Even cynics are taking a second look. Yes, there are violent naysayers, blood in the streets. But they will be resisted. They will be defeated.
Yes, you would be amazed. Liberals are beside themselves. The politically correct virus is being slowly eradicated. The corrupt media has been exposed. The cancerous Washington establishment and do-nothing Republicans are running for cover. People are hoisting American flags and daring anyone to stop them. It is as though a veil has been lifted from the eyes of the people, and by the grace of God, we can finally see.
After your lifetime of toil, we can finally see.
All of your efforts have borne fruit. Everything you endured was worth it. Every bruising campaign, every dollar, every letter, every phone call, every long-distance trip. Every tuition you paid in hopes your children, too, would someday have the tools for the battle. Your every exhausted attempt to try just one more thing that may turn the tide─and help save the greatest country the world has ever known.
No, you weren’t here when the victory finally came. But you helped it happen. I know that, because I saw you.
The unborn, too, may finally be heard─their tiny, inaudible voices protesting that they, too, are worth something. And the women so cruelly exploited? You championed them, too.
So rest easy, Pop. It is morning here. There is a light glowing through the trees. If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of joy, rising up and multiplying.
The torch is in good hands. Watch and enjoy. Your difficult labor is done. Your children─and your country─now labor for you.
All my love,
Leslie Alexander is the fourth of twelve children born to the late A.G. “Ladd” Alexander (1929-1996) and Florina Roy Alexander of Shreveport, LA.
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