Thank you for the honor of sharing some thoughts tonight.

We are 350 million Americans. Yet we are only 4.2% of the world’s population.

We are different. We are few. We live in tough times.

At 250 years, the United States endures as the world’s oldest large constitutional republic, the oldest continuous federal republic, and a home to one of the oldest written constitutions still in force.

This is why our 250th birthday is worth celebrating.

We are the heirs to what so few could dream, fewer tried, and fewer still - achieved.

A birthday is for joy, for thought (and reflection), and for vows.

Now at 250, the democracy of our dead – those citizens who have gone before us - invites us to learn, to reflect, to vow.

Our Republic is never finished. It asks of us hard work.

America never stops building, never stops moving toward a more perfect union. We inherit that work. Our charge is simple, and heavy: Preserve it, Protect it, and Pass it on.

If we do our part, we leave behind a better Republic than the one we received.

Tonight, a short sprint through our history. Three themes. Humbly offered to guide our joy, our thoughts, and our vows.

We will touch upon the How, the What, and the Why. Or as these three themes arise: Debate, Decisions, and the Dream.

Start with the birthday. The Fourth. Those patriots we call Founders voted for independence on the second of July.

The Fourth was when they adopted the words, which was like approving the press release. A statement we all know and cherish as our creed: The Declaration of Independence.

We will hear a lot about the Declaration over the next month. Mostly, about the meaning of the words – and we should all re-read the entire document from the famous preamble through the 27 grievances carefully crafted to make the case for freedom.

Those words have meaning. But they also stick for another reason. A quick poet’s digression.

“…the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God“

“We hold these truths to be self-evident…”

“…our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor“

Listen to that second line. We hold these truths to be self-evident. Ten syllables, the stress on every second beat — the meter of Shakespeare, read aloud. Iambic pentameter. The entire document is filled with this meter.

Why does this matter?

It matters as a fact of resonance.

The power of the Declaration is not only its ideas, its principles, its resolve. It is all of that — and its cadence to our human ears. It resonates.

In physics, resonance occurs when a vibration matches a natural frequency, and the amplitude climbs to a peak.

Most Americans in 1776 did not read the Declaration. They heard it — read aloud in town halls, in churches, in taverns. The words were built to be spoken and built to be heard.

It resonated because it was meant to carry sound. Re-read it aloud this July.

The Debate

Now go back, just before the 4^th. In early June, the Virginia delegate Richard Henry Lee rose and moved that the colonies break from England. The debate began. No one knew if they had enough votes.

So, Congress named a small committee to draft what would become the Declaration, while the larger body argued over Lee’s resolution. This was the Committee of Five: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston.

We know the highlights. Jefferson took the pen. He wrote and rewrote, and when he was done, Congress cut nearly a quarter of his words.

He kept notes. When edited by Congress, like any writer, he was not happy with what the compromises cost him — among them a passage in his draft that named slavery as a crime of the Crown. It was struck down.

Franklin, the story goes, crossed out the formal “sacred and undeniable” and wrote in the plainer “self-evident.”

But what about Robert Livingston? He had not voted for Lee’s resolution. He did not back independence. He abstained. He was not sure the time had come to rebel against King George.

It is easy to miss this lesson – even among aligned statesmen – there was debate.

This was America’s beginning: Dialogue, Disagreement and Dissent.

Livingston, remember, did not vote for Lee’s resolution. Yet his voice helped shape the Declaration. And by the time of the signing on the 4th, much of our country was against breaking away, or unwilling to choose. Robert Livingston was recalled to New York. He never signed.

And yet. Like the millions of dissenters who came after him, he was a patriot who stood for a better Republic. It was Livingston who, as Chancellor of New York, swore in President Washington in 1789. It was Livingston who, as minister to France, helped win the Louisiana Purchase in 1803 — and doubled the size of our country.

The Declaration was a debate. The nation was born as a dissent. And we have never stopped arguing since.

There is another tale, iconic and yet lesser known. Another American debater. It is the story of Jeannette Rankin.

Rankin was the first woman elected to Congress — a Republican from Montana, sent to Washington in 1916, four years before the country recognized women’s right to vote with the Nineteenth Amendment. She got there first.

In 1917, she voted against entering the First World War. “I want to stand by my country,” she said, “but I cannot vote for war.” She lost her next campaign.

She came back. Twenty-two years later, in 1940, Montana sent her to Congress again. And on December 8, 1941, the day after Pearl Harbor, the whole chamber was roaring for war. They voted. Three hundred eighty-eight to one. Jeannette Rankin was the one.

History has not always thanked her for it. That is not the point. The point is the pattern — the long American line of leaders who differ on a vote but never on country.

Debate is not the opposite of patriotism. It is one of its oldest forms.

Today’s dissenters, tomorrow’s powerful – and today’s powerful, tomorrow’s dissenters.

The Decisions.

Twice this country has had to decide, fundamentally, what we are. Not in a single vote — but a long argument, the kind that takes years and sacrifices. Twice we answered. The second answer was better but bloodier than our first.

The First Founding came in two documents and eleven years. In 1776, the Declaration made a promise. In 1787, the Constitution built the machine to keep it — the branches, the checks, the slow-grinding gears of self-government.

But the machine was built around an incomplete promise. It had let slavery stand. The Founders made a promise their own laws broke. They knew it. But they chose better, knowing perfection was not yet possible.

So, a promise sat there, unkept, for almost ninety years.

Then came the Second Founding. It did not come cheap. It came after four years of Civil War and more than seven hundred thousand dead — the bloodiest reckoning in our nation’s history. And when the bullets stopped, the country did something remarkable. It debated and decided again.

Three amendments. The Thirteenth. The Fourteenth. The Fifteenth.

The first generation wrote the dream. The second went back to make it real and better.

And what was it all for? The argument, the war, the Second Founding — what was the point of our Republic that could fight itself half to death and then choose better?

The Dream

This. The plain, stubborn American idea that a person can start with nothing and rise. That where you began does not fix where you end. We call it the American Dream, and we have said it so many times that the words ring trite or cliché.

So let me give it to you in two stories.

A poor boy comes off a boat from Scotland in 1848. Twelve years old, no money, a family fleeing hunger. He works in mills. He reads what he can. He learns the new business of steel, and he builds the steel that built our nation — the rails, the bridges, the bones of our cities. He sells it and becomes, for a moment, the richest man in the world. His name: Andrew Carnegie.

Then he gives it nearly all away.

Some twenty-five hundred libraries, so the next poor kid off the boat could read his way up the same ladder he climbed. That is the legal immigrant’s dream — the country as a door, held open.

Now another. She was born in 1867, on a cotton plantation in Louisiana. Her parents and her older brothers and sisters born into slavery. She was their first child born free. Orphaned young. Widowed young. A washerwoman, bent over other people’s laundry for pennies.

She builds an empire. A line of hair care, sold by an army of saleswomen she trains and pays — and she becomes, by most accounts, the first self-made woman millionaire in America. Madam C.J. Walker. The daughter of the enslaved, risen further than almost any freeborn of her time.

Hold those two lives side-by-side: Carnegie’s dream came from outside the country, knocking. Walker’s dream had been locked inside it, in chains.

And here is the thing we cannot miss: Madam Walker could not have risen in the nation the First Founders built. It took the Second Founding — the freedom, the citizenship, the promise finally kept — to give her a country where the American Dream was possible.

So, the Dream is not a separate story from the Decisions. It is the proof that the Decisions worked.

Knowing our real American story – warts and all – should make us proud. It empowers us.

Three themes tonight: The Debate. The Decisions. The Dream.

We argued. We decided, and then we went back and decided better. And out of that came the country where anyone, from outside our door or inside broken chains, could rise.

It is one story, not three. The debate made the decisions possible. The decisions made the dream possible. And the dream is the reason any of it was worth the argument and the blood.

Our Republic is never finished. It asks a labor of us that never ends.

The Declaration declared that our government was formed “to secure these rights.” It did not say the government was formed to solve our problems. To pave our roads. To run our schools. To run healthcare. Nor to provide for our retirement.

I leave you with this thought and challenge: Does America need a Third Founding? A founding that more fully restores the promise of a just Republic?

Wrestle with this. Debate this. Decide this.

Take this year to re-read the Declaration. Read a biography of one of the 56 Signers. Read about our debates. Study our decisions. Read about the Dreams people have made happen.

So, on our two hundred and fiftieth birthday, let us do the three things birthdays are for. Let us take joy. Let us take thought. And let us take our vows.

To: Preserve it. Protect it. Pass it on.

Happy Birthday, America.

Thank you.

We live the cycle still. Achievement, Collapse. Recovery. Daily.

America’s story is remarkable not because it is spotless but because it argues with itself. No gathering of humans (tribe, town, empire) has been innocent of atrocity. America is no exception. What is exceptional is the obsession, the fixation on its own flaws.

Out of that restless self-critique comes growth.

The nation declared itself with words and weapons.

The nation declared itself with words and weapons. It has never stopped using both. Out of a Philadelphia hall, in an autumn season, Franklin left us the challenge: A Republic, if we can keep it.

Keeping it demands understanding. Not invention, not fantasy, but clarity. More than documents or bureaucracies, the lifeline of any people is their story. Believed, it binds. Forgotten, it fractures.

Believed, it binds. Forgotten, it fractures.

From ratification forward, we have striven to make one out of many. We carried the weight of slavery, and we also carried the idea of abolition. (In fact, we were the first to advocate - although not act - making the moral case for abolition.) We built through conquest and through war, yet returned land, however imperfectly, to the conquered. We extended the franchise again and again, even as we quarreled over the size of government and the reach of freedom.

We are, after all, human.

Republic Unfinished | Untold Stories exists to quicken these stories. To show the good, the ruin, and the unremarkable hours between. They ate, they slept, they dreamed. They feared, they argued, they hoped. They were like us in every essential way.

Sometimes we broke with custom, and chaos followed. Sometimes we preserved tradition and found stability. Sometimes we chased novelty and ran headlong into wreckage. When we choose the hard thing over the easy, we leave something better behind. Not always. But often enough.

This is the wager: That by remembering the past, we understand our present. The future waits unwritten, with equal chances for gain or ruin. This is, after all, our American Republic unfinished.

It is okay to praise America.

It is okay to criticize America.

Red, White & Verse does both.

However, this book unapologetically embraces America, faults and all. This tome is the labor of a father imparting to his children a love of country, inculcated through the power of lyrical verse. If it hits, the mark is for the reader and listener to judge.

Verse hits apex impact when heard.

America’s faults—and they are not few—are part of its power. We are the best nation our species has seen, in part because we obsessively grow, expand, and move toward betterment. Like the pioneers, founders, inventors, artists, civic leaders, and everyday citizens, we are wired to try, fail, and try again. America has made this cycle of improvement a habit.

America’s refusal to stay knocked down is what creates an opportunity for everyone.

In the following pages, we can juxtapose odes to George Washington and Malcolm X and note there are stanzas reflecting their shortcomings, yet both have contributed to our American story. Each has something to teach and represents something we can celebrate. Yet, like each of us, they were imperfect. Only a mind submerged in the thick ooze of bigotry fails to grasp this reality.

Our American story can be told in so many ways. Red, White & Verse concentrates on three threads of myth in the rich tapestry of our American tale: people, places, and events.

Our People

Since the rise of the nation-state, no other country but America has been built upon generations of immigrants coming to its shores, each enriching our experience. It is also true that some people were brought here—enslaved—against their will, and others were forcibly displaced. Yet it remains true that immigrants came to this continent in search of a better life and often, by brawn and brain, empowered by common values, created that life for themselves.

Despite our complex nature, we can see four themes consistently running through our stories:

· wanderlust, exploration, or restlessness

· commitment to self-sufficiency fueled by a free market

· service to others—an outgrowth of a free market

· creativity or inventiveness

The American soul is restless. A boundless spirit, a yearning for the far horizon, the promise of a road untraveled, and a story untold animate this nation’s soul. Wanderlust has roots in the nation’s infancy and has become part of our shared identity. It animated the pioneers’ push westward and the Apollo missions to the moon, and it drives millions of enterprises to this day.

Let’s start at the frontier, the birthplace of American exploration. Tempted by virgin territories and boundless opportunities, the pioneers tore into the wilderness, driven by an unyielding sense of purpose. Not only did they move to the West, but they were also drawn to it like it was their manifest destiny. It wasn’t just about moving westward—it was also about pushing human potential, resilience, and grit.

Earthly boundaries could not limit the thirst for exploration. Our planet couldn’t contain it. The wandering stretched upward and outward—first to the sky, then into space. The Wright brothers started an era that’s still expanding. NASA , SpaceX and Blue Horizon are testaments to our inherent wanderlust.

Interstate highways brought this ethos of exploration and joy of the journey into everyday life. Thousands of miles of well-paved roads crisscrossing the nation extended an invitation to every American. It said, “Go, explore. Discover not just the vastness of your country but also yourself along the way.” Millions took to the road with the same spirit as their pioneering ancestors. Their motivation wasn’t gold or new land, but rather curiosity and discovery.

Road warriors, first armed with little more than a map—and now GPS—seek a sense of adventure and embrace the uncertainty of the road not taken. As they travel, they discover unplanned stops, hidden diners with great pie, and landscapes changing subtly yet magically. The open road continues to reaffirm the individual’s relationship with the nation’s vast expanse and the freedom to traverse it.

America is more than a nation—it’s an idea—equally profound as it is a provocative dream. It’s a dream that empowers individuals, fosters innovation, and champions free enterprise. This quintessential American ethos, forged by hard work, grit, and effort, is the nation’s foundation.

This tenet is at the heart of service to one another. It is a rather simplistic yet profound belief that in providing goods and services, in participating in the free exchange of commodities and ideas, individuals do not merely transact—they contribute to the well-being of their communities and society. The market is simply one person meeting the needs of another. This understanding reframes work as an organized means of service, a manifestation of an ideal that values the inherent dignity of every profession and person.

America’s history is rooted in this code. This nation has nurtured innovation and entrepreneurship. From Benjamin Franklin’s lightning rod, to Thomas Edison’s electric light bulb, to Henry Ford’s assembly line—American history is punctuated with stories of individuals who, driven by a sense of service and a vision for betterment, shaped our world.

Consider the entrepreneurial spirit that spurred the creation of the great American corporations. Companies like General Electric, Ford, and Standard Oil were born out of a belief that providing goods and services is not merely a business venture—it’s a commitment to enhancing people’s lives. These companies have been more than just economic powerhouses; they have been the standard-bearers of innovation, creating products and services that have transformed how we live, work, and connect.

Success is forged from failure, from trial and error, from this relentless dance with adversity, a model deeply ingrained in American culture. Failure isn’t just a slogan in America. It’s the way of life—from Robert Morris to John C. Frémont. As Edison famously said after chronically failing, “I have gotten a lot results! I know several thousand things that won’t work.” Embracing the journey rather than settling for instant success drives American creativity.

Look at American enterprise. In this system, risk is the key to creating something of value. These risks often come with failures. Still, Americans understand that each failure is a stepping stone[TM2] to success—a lesson in what not to do.

Individuals take risks, yet it is the many who benefit when entrepreneurs win.

This distinct work ethic extends beyond the corporate world. It permeates every aspect of American life, from arts to sciences, literature to sports. From Mark Twain and Harper Lee challenging literary norms to the daring spirit of the Wright brothers and Sally Ride pushing the boundaries of human potential, the American spirit of creativity and inventiveness is ubiquitous.

So, let’s celebrate that spirit of creativity—the relentless pursuit of the new and better—that makes America great. This spirit always pushes the limits of what’s possible, ignites the imagination, and strives relentlessly to progress. It is a testament to the indomitable will of all who refuse to accept the world as it is and instead strive to shape it into the world it could be.

Moreover, America’s embrace of free markets provides the ecosystem that supports this entrepreneurial zeal. Limited government interference, competition, and the primacy of consumer choice help businesses flourish, innovate, and evolve when market dynamics and consumer preferences change. Adaptability is essential to the American entrepreneurial character, which thrives on challenges and sees opportunities in adversity.

Free markets and entrepreneurship have their critics. At its core, however, service moderates the potential excesses of human nature. It tempers short-term value with long-term commitment. It highlights the responsibility of businesses to their customers and team members. This ethos encourages companies to invest in communities, foster sustainable practices, and uphold high standards.

America’s cultural roots support a unique approach to free markets and entrepreneurship. As we celebrate this ethos, we must also continuously strive to ensure that our markets remain free, our businesses focused on the long-term, and our commitment to service unflinching. This spirit powers the American dream—a dream that fosters progress, inspires innovation, and values serving others.

Places

America’s wide-open spaces fueled its ideas. Early settlers found no end to the wilderness and expanse before them as they pushed back the hardwoods and pines along the Atlantic coast. Place matters.

As ideas refined in the Enlightenment—particularly the Scottish Enlightenment, carried in the hearts and the minds of immigrants—hit the shores of this new world and its wide-open spaces, magic happened.

We ventured into the wilderness not merely for personal gain but with the conviction that we were contributing to the grand project of manifesting a nation’s destiny. Wild, hostile environments demand resourcefulness, hardiness, and optimism. Thus were born the qualities that define American culture: self-reliance, ingenuity, and enterprise. A nation of people honed on the harsh whetstone of the frontier could not but grow to be both rugged and innovative.

Frontiers weren’t just economic or geographical. They were psychological too. Pioneers faced a physical and mental frontier while crossing the endless wilderness. They demonstrated their resilience and adaptability as they faced harsh weather, wild beasts, and isolation, fostering a spirit of grit and perseverance.

Frontiers also shaped our society. Given the vast space and lack of established institutions and social hierarchies, pioneers had unprecedented freedom. It was an opportunity for them to experiment with new forms of community and governance and to lay the groundwork for a society built on first principles. Remaking ourselves anew, free from the burdens of the past, is deeply ingrained in our American character.

The frontier also gave us a sense of national identity. As people from different backgrounds braved the same trials and tribulations of frontier life, they developed a shared purpose and destiny. The frontier was an equalizer, melting away the differences that might have divided them in the Old World. This shared experience of frontier life shaped an American self-concept.

Still, the frontier story is not without contradictions and tragedies. The displacement and suffering of Native American tribes created not just injustices but literally a trail of tears.

Yet, the influence of the frontier in shaping our American ethos is undeniable. It bred individualism, innovation, resilience, adaptability, and a strong sense of civil liberties as a national identity. The American culture, politics, and economy still echo the frontier experience and remind us of the unconquerable spirit that once forged a path through the wilderness and shaped a continent.

As a nation, we choose to conserve endless acres of these wide-open spaces, preserving them for future generations and for the living to enjoy today.

When one examines the grandeur of the Great Lakes, the expansive vistas of Yellowstone, or the otherworldly beauty of the Grand Canyon, one cannot help but feel an elemental connection to the natural world. These aren’t merely beautiful landscapes; they represent the unbridled majesty of the earth in its most primal state. The increasing dominance of technology and urbanization makes the opportunity to appreciate nature a boon. It is a balm for the soul. There’s growing scientific consensus that these benefits extend to physical and mental well-being.

The aura of awe inspired by America’s national parks is like the peace you get when you’re in the presence of great art. Those who are moved by wonder feel small in the face of the world’s vastness and complexity, evoking an experience like what Romantic poets called “the sublime.” Several studies have shown that awe reduces stress, boosts happiness, and even encourages prosocial behaviors. Our American wild is a key to well-being.

There’s more to national parks than escapism. These are places where we can recalibrate, reconnect, and rediscover our humanity. In this digital age, we shouldn’t overlook the importance of these natural sanctuaries in nurturing our physical, mental, and spiritual health. Keeping them healthy and great provides a natural prescription for our own health—a reminder that nature’s grandeur brings beauty and a deeper understanding of our place in the universe.

Despite the importance of modern technology and urban environments in our lives, we also need to acknowledge the natural world’s innate value and our inextricable connection to it. Getting out in nature isn’t just an aesthetic experience. It’s a fundamental part of being human.

It’s obvious our national parks are more than just wilderness. They’re essential to our happiness and ability to thrive. You’re not merely amid nature when you see a sequoia or listen to a dawn chorus in the Great Smoky Mountains. You’re improving your health. Taking advantage of our national parks is a prescription we should each fill regularly.

Events

There’s something unifying and almost spiritual about the United States, despite its imposed separation of church and state. Citizenship is not tied to a specific faith, creed, or doctrine. Even so, it captures a sense of nearly religious adherence and celebration of what could be considered an American civic religion. This commitment finds its most eloquent expression through the uniquely American cycle of holidays, or as they might be more appropriately termed, “holy days.”

Using a religious term emphasizes these days have a quasi-sacred status. They’re more than just days off work; they offer a time for remembrance, reflection, and affirmation of shared values. This elevation of commemorative days to a form of national worship builds a robust civic community, reinforcing a commitment to core American principles.

Think about Independence Day, a national festival devoted to the Declaration of Independence. It’s not just a barbecue and fireworks show. We reaffirm our core public ideals. The celebration rekindles the spirit of the American Revolution, reaffirming the principles of freedom and equality that built our nation.

Or consider Thanksgiving, a day of national gratitude dating back to the early settlers. Amid feasting and festivities, it invites Americans to collectively appreciate the fruits of land and labor, fostering a shared sense of abundance, resilience, and community. It grew from civic and religious leaders. It’s still linked to the purely secular date when British occupation forces left our shores.

Then there is Memorial Day, a solemn occasion dedicated to the memory of the military dead. Observing it binds citizens in a shared respect for those who sacrificed for their country. It reminds Americans of the cost of their freedom and thus instills a deep sense of responsibility toward preserving it.

These holidays and others form a liturgical calendar for America’s civic religion. Each holiday is like a sermon that preaches the values of democracy under a republic: liberty, gratitude, sacrifice, and hard work. They provide a rhythm to national life, creating a shared narrative that binds a people together—even in times when the events of the day seek to pull us apart.

What makes this calendar profoundly influential is its inclusivity. Irrespective of one’s religion, sex, ability, or ethnic background, everyone is welcome to participate in these shared civic holy days. They create a sense of collective identity, building bridges among diverse communities. But to work this magic, people need to believe in America. In essence, faith is required.

However, as with any worship, this civic religion requires thoughtful engagement. It is not enough to merely participate in the rituals; we must understand their symbolic significance and strive to embody the values they represent daily. By doing so, we ensure that these holy days serve not just as moments of commemoration but as a source of inspiration, guiding us toward the continuous endeavor of creating a “more perfect union.”

To flex a metaphor of T.S. Eliot, if one does not grasp the center, it will not hold.

Red, White & Verse explores our shared American myths through imperfect lyrical verse. Each poem comes with background notes to illuminate some of the more obscure references.

Please enjoy these poems, which I believe are best experienced out loud. If you like them, please read them aloud to your kids.

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