Welcome to the World, Jack!

We received a text from Rachel yesterday morning saying, "Jack Martin was born on May 11 at 2:59am, 6lbs 13oz. We are resting and doing great!" It was a text we were expecting as she had begun to experience contractions more than 24 hours earlier. We drove down to see them at the hospital in Rochester yesterday morning. She and Drew were both tired, and it showed. It had been a long 30-hour period for them. Jenny was there to help with Cliff, who was being his busy little self. We're watching PJ at our home for the week to help lighten their load however we can. 

And Jack! Like any newborn, he's so tiny, with slender little fingers and toes adorned with the tiniest nails, and a head of hair that's beginning to show. He was making little noises and cried a little as I held him. Rachel will spend two nights in the hospital before returning home tomorrow. 

(As I've noted previously, Rachel prefers that I don't post photos of their children. I would love to show you a beautiful photo of Rachel holding Jack, but this is her call.)

We're happy for Rachel that she got to experience a full pregnancy, because she wasn't able to do that with Cliff, who was born at 28 weeks. She wanted to experience giving birth. All in all, her delivery went as well as one could hope for. 

We've been working through a cool, windy spring that has me longing for the heat of summer—and spring is my favorite time of year, so I don't want to wish it away. The wind has been relentless, and I'm more than over it. 

Normally, nearly all of my riding this time of year happens outside. That hasn't been the case this year because my indoor bike trainer provides a nice workout experience that requires little arm-twisting on those days when the weather outside sucks. Yesterday was actually quite nice, though still a little breezy. I got out for a few hours of gravel riding in preparation for the Heywood ride this Saturday. I needed some tougher miles in my legs, and I got that. 

I looked over the data from my ride afterward and was pleased to see that the power output from my legs was nearly the same, with my left leg producing 51% and my right 49%. Since I'm right-side dominant, I wonder if my right leg will eventually become my stronger leg? I know my left leg would enjoy the break, as it's been pulling much more than its share throughout my adult life, especially on the bike. (For those unfamiliar with my journey, I had knee replacement surgery in November 2024 after an entire adult life of dealing with an injured knee.)

I'm well into my fourth month since deactivating my Facebook account. I figured I would have some misgivings about leaving the platform, but surprisingly, there have been few. I had to sign back on recently to turn over control of the Glowing Tree in Bloomington page (which had gained a sizeable following over the years) to the tree's owners. They had reached out to me last November to see if it was okay to announce on the page that they would light the tree again, eleven years after it had gone dark. I'm happy to see the page remain alive and in their hands. 

Facebook was a fun and informative platform that I enjoyed from the moment I first signed up for an account in 2008, when the site became widely publicly available. Like most others, I liked the ability to reconnect with friends I hadn't heard from in decades—high school friends and those from my time in the Navy. It was also nice to share links to my blog posts, riding videos, and artwork. 

But at what cost? 

The platform's trend is not a good one in terms of human decency and how we interact with one another, and it began to wear on me. The all-too-comfortable racism that's on display now and anger toward immigrant communities were demoralizing to witness, especially when the conversations were taking place on local community pages. Part of me wanted to stay on the platform so I could continue to add my voice to the debate, but I no longer have the heart for it. I'm not giving up—because I'm still here, online and in public—but I recognize when something is a lost cause, and Facebook has become that for me, at least in the ways the site was personally important to me. 

I wish I could've just ignored all of the political scuffles, but that's not me. I'm drawn to them because I'm somebody whose mind was changed in a big way (over the course of years) by some strangers online. I had enough of an open mind to hear what was being said to me. For too many, admitting that they lacked understanding requires admitting they were wrong. There's no shame in that, but there is shame in remaining wilfully ignorant. 

Nowadays, I feel like the simple act of wearing a t-shirt with the words "Resist Fascism" emblazoned on it in public (which I've been doing) reaches at least as many people, on a gut level, as any words I may write in a Facebook discussion. 

Our form of democracy is in peril. It's important to do what we can, each in our own way, to save it. Too many privileged people fail to get that. 

We're still at war with Iran while our national debt is rising more rapidly than ever and is no longer comprehensible. Republicans are following Trump off the cliff of sanity and taking the country with them. I pray for his demise.

Letters From an American

That's all I've got. 

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