Today is the second anniversary of my mother's passing. Born in Naples, Italy in 1925, she lived in Germany from 1937-1947. She saw up close and personal the effects of the politics of "the other," the police state, the "strong leader," and the power of fear and hatred. So you can imagine the stories and lessons I learned, first on her knee, later side by side, then across the table. And so today, instead of mourning, I have been filled with anger. What has been going on in our nation; the rise of a demagogue who has made all of the most base instincts of human beings socially acceptable, has made me happy that she is not alive to witness this fetid echo of the past. I did not spend the day as I would have wished, in happy memory of the times we shared. Instead, I was happy that she was gone. And that made me very angry indeed. But as I write this, there is a faint voice with an unmistakable accent in my ear. And so I will not let them take this, my precious memories and happiness, from me. I will set aside anger. I will redouble my efforts and confront ignorance, fear and hatred with reason, empathy and compassion. That is what she would wish.