Of. By. For. By Jamie Kirkpatrick

Eight score and two years ago—almost to the day—President Abraham Lincoln soothed America’s soul on a blood-soaked field near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. His speech was only 272 words long, and many who were present that day didn’t even realize he was speaking. The President reminded those who were listening that the United States had once been “a new nation, conceived in Liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” A few minutes later, he ended his speech with these words: “and that this nation—under God—shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

Words matter. They not only convey literal meaning, but they also have the power to lift our spirits and show us more clearly not just what is, but what could be. In that sense, they are timeless; they are our enduring legacy.

Fast forward:

Finger jabbing: “Quiet; quiet, piggy.” (3 words that matter)

Shoulders shrugging: “Things happen.” (2 words that matter)

Angry scowl: “You are a terrible reporter.” (5 words that matter)

Mr. Trump has once again defiled the Presidency and demeaned us a nation. He is incapable of any soaring rhetoric, refuses to create dialogue, never makes a responsible or empathetic connection. Just dissembling, ranting, and erratic behavior. Even Mr. Trump’s most ardent supporters must wonder what his words and actions mean. MBS is feted at the White House? Zohran Mamdani is now a “really great mayor” after being labeled a “100% Communist lunatic?” Listening to Mr. Trump, I bottom-out, or think I do, only to discover that he can go lower still. The world watches in disbelief: what has happened to America?

For the first three and a half score of my life, there were a million things I took for granted. Simple kinetic movements, like bending over or pulling on my socks or tying my shoes. In those years, I could still get up from the floor or rise from a chair without all the squawking sound effects that now come from my bones and joints. Back then, I could sleep soundly through the night and dream about America’s inherent goodness. But now, let’s just say that what was once easy is difficult, and what was once difficult is now almost impossible.

I took other things for granted, too: kindness; respect; empathy. All those lessons we were supposed to have learned in kindergarten, like playing nicely, speaking kindly, saying please and  thank you. Practicing common courtesies like giving up one’s seat on the bus, or allowing a pedestrian to use the crosswalk—all the small grace notes that make a big difference in the quality of our lives. But now all those norms are quivering. Pandora’s box is open and all the harpies it contained are loosed upon us.

I took these things for granted, too: belief in Democracy; in the Constitution; in the rule of law; in a free press and free speech. The separation of church and state. Civil rights. Working across the political aisle for the common good. All these things still matter, but they are fading fast, if they’re not already gone, all because of one man and the minions who enable him. How utterly sad.

In another two days, we will assemble— families, friends, and communities—to give thanks for what remains of the American dream. We will pray and hope that we still live under a government that is “of the people, by the people, and for the people, and that it shall not perish from the earth.” 

Of. By. For. These three little words still matter. Now more than ever.

I’ll be right back.

Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives on both sides of the Chesapeake Bay. His editorials and reviews have appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine. His most recent novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon and in local bookstores. His newest novel, “The People Game,” hits the market in February, 2026. His website is musingjamie.net.