For the 40 years that my wife and I have been together, she’s never lobbied me about a column.
Not once.
Not even when my writing made things difficult for her socially, when I was the lead columnist at the Tribune, a conservative, and our small West Suburban village had been overrun by what I call AWFLS, the Angry White Female Leftists who hectored and ousted a reasonable moderate Democrat, U.S. Rep. Dan Lipinski (D, IL). Our village, Western Springs, became known for all the Hate Has No Home Here signs in the front yards. These were rather like a declaration of war, or at least an “unwelcome mat.”
But there was one time when she asked me to write on a topic that as a mother and a teacher struck her to the core:
The 100,000 young Americans who had been killed by the Narcotraffickers to the indifference and shrugs of the Democrats and the corporate legacy media. They had twisted themselves like pretzels defending Joe Biden’s open borders. I called that column Biden’s Border Chaos, 100,000 Fentanyl Dead and Hands That Rocked the Cradle, about the millions of illegal migrants and the drugs poisonin America’s young.
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