George Boxley settled in Indiana after escaping a Virginia jail accused of fomenting a sabotaged slave rebellion in 1816. As his great great great great grandson, I have stood on Vinegar Hill in Ireland and smelled the coals of Wolftone with vivid memories of the deaths of the sons of Joseph Kennedy. On Mount Olympus I penned thoughts of democracy. On the Old North Bridge of Concord, freedom rushed in my veins. I walked the mountains of Ruby Ridge and spoke to preachers on Mnt. Carmel while watching the tomb of a children’s school bus behind a federal fence. I paced the FEMA concentration camps near Frisco, Texas. Worked triage at a post office across from the Alfred P. Murrah Federal building in Oklahoma City.
But I lost my faith in my country when the New London Supreme Court case allowed private parties the right to private property via eminent domain. My family lost property to urban renewal to be given to the son of a former mayor. My country has no borders, my country has no Liberty, my country is no more.
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