True Names

April 6, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I started reading Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicle and only got a few pages into the book when I had to stop and research the belief that there is magic in names.  In The Name of the Wind, the first book of the two-book trilogy, someone falls, and since he knows the name of the wind, he calls the wind and the wind comes and gently lowers him to the ground. That struck a resounding chord in me. I’ve always known about the magic of names, but not necessarily in that context. I’d started the book years ago, might even have finished it, so the echo about the magic of knowing the name of something could have been from that very book, but the recognition seemed deeper than that, and I wanted to check it out.

I never did figure out what specifically triggered that echo. There are simply too many references to the magic of names and the power of true names to mention here. It seems to be a word-wide cultural belief, not just in folklore, fairy tales, and myth, but in practice. In some cultures, parents hid their children’s real name behind a secondary name to be commonly used because your true name holds power and anyone who knows that name has at least a modicum of power over you. Even today, without names being directly related to magic, names have a vast importance — think how long most parents-to-be deliberate on what to name their child. And how they have a second name to use when chastising their child, and sometimes even a third name to show a special affection.

This idea of a “true name” seems to be intrinsic, or at least it is in me. I remember as a youngster wanting to know the names of birds, and it shocked (and horrified) me when I realized the names we’ve given to the birds are just labels. They’re not their true names. I gave up any interest in learning bird names after that, because there didn’t seem to be much point to it. Now if I could learn birds’ true names, the names they give themselves, that would be something different!

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what my author name should be because I needed as much power as possible bestowed on me and my books. I finally settled on the simplest version of my given name. After Jeff died, and I set out on my journey to find a new life, I met a lot of people. I hesitated to tell anyone my true name — I didn’t want strangers knowing much about me or having even that bit of power over me because I was already feeling vulnerable, so I gave them my author name. Besides, back then I still had hopes of becoming a known author (known to more than just a few people, that is), and I hoped that telling people my author name would help solidify my “brand.”

The problem with not using my true name is that when strangers became friends, it was too late to give them my true name. An even greater problem is that I don’t even know what my true name is anymore. I look for it occasionally but have no idea how to find it. Maybe when the birds tell me their names, they will be able to tell me mine, too.

It could happen.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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The Bob

April 2, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?
View all responses

I was going to make this a lighthearted post because I’ve adapted well to the changes brought on by the “Bob.”

In case you don’t know, I call it the “Bob” after an excerpt in my novel, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, where protagonist Greg, and his boss, Olaf, are discussing research papers. Olaf says:

“Convoluted writing and obscure terms are a way of intimidating the uninitiated, keeping the profession closed to non-scientists, and adding to the scientific mystique. Just think, if diseases had names like Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice, doctors wouldn’t make anywhere near the amount of money they do now.”

Greg laughed. “That’s an idea. They do it for hurricanes, why not everything else?” He mimed seizing the phone and dialing. “Mr. Olaf? I can’t come in today. I’ve got the Bob.” He hung up his imaginary receiver and looked inquiringly at his boss.

Olaf nodded. “Works for me.”

All during the worst of the shutdown, I hated giving the malady — both the physical ailment and the widespread cultural and financial ill — the hated name. I didn’t want to grant the horror more power than it already had and, too, I didn’t want to surrender to the fearmongering. At least, not for myself. I don’t get the flu, and besides, I’d made a vow never allow myself to get caught up in another scarifying scheme such as happened with the Swine Flu fiasco of 1976. Outwardly, I made a point of following their dictates. I stayed home. (Yay!! Such a good excuse to take a break from socializing.) I made sure to stay 6 feet away from anyone I did happen to see. (Again, yay!! I’ve never liked people standing on my heels while waiting in line.) I wore the mask. (Another yay! I liked the anonymity.) And I always made sure I had an easy answer when asked if I’d gotten the vaccine. (It wasn’t a lie, but not the strict truth, either.) And even though we’ve been paying for the stimulus checks with inflation for the past few years (each of us has probably spent more in inflationary dollars than we ever received for “free”), they were a nice bonus for me at the time.

So, for me, it wasn’t a hardship. The worst thing, I think, was keeping from getting caught up in the fear. And the best thing was having an excuse to be alone, and that still holds true to this day.

So why did I change my mind about a lighthearted post? Because other people weren’t so lucky. I know several women who lost their husbands and subsequently their way of life. (Too often widows end up in financial straits, as if losing that one special person isn’t trauma enough.) I know others who have lost beloved family members. And I know still others who have become lost in a cycle of never-cured illnesses.

If this had been a naturally occurring illness, there might be some sense of fatalism to help with acceptance, but I doubt there’s anyone out there who still believes it “just happened.” We (the people) might never know the truth. Might never know who to blame. Might always be shadowed by the spector of “if they did it once, they can do it again.”

One thing I do know: we — individually and as a people — will always be changed forever by the “Bob.”

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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A Day of Pointless Foolery

April 1, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I’ve never been a fan of practical jokes. Not the crude ones like whoopie cushions. Not the mean ones like switching sugar and salt. Not the cruel ones like sending someone a fake love letter purporting to be from a person they’ve admired from afar. Not the disastrous ones like telling someone you were dying. And especially not the elaborate ones where the poor pranked person hadn’t a clue.

There was once a television show where the hosts played practical jokes on people. In one episode, a well-known actor had been wined and dined extensively by industry bigwigs as a prelude to his getting some important acting job. He played it cool, not getting excited, just accepting the scenario as possible since there was nothing out of the ordinary about the situation. At the end, when they told him it was all a joke, for a moment there was a blank look on his face, not embarrassment — just blank. As if the whole thing had been totally pointless, which such pranks are.

When I was growing up, we didn’t have a television because my father didn’t want us to be like everyone else, nor would he let us listen to the popular radio stations. Since I was naïve and out of the mainstream, kids often picked on me. One day, I got to school and found chalk hearts all over the playground with PB + EP inside. I couldn’t figure out what EP stood for since there was no one in the school with those initials, and no one would tell me what they meant. They laughed, thinking the whole thing hilarious. I don’t know how many days they strung out the joke until someone finally told me EP stood for Elvis Presley. I just stared at them, totally at a loss since I’d never heard of him. (Yep, I was that culturally isolated.) I still don’t understand the point of that incident; it just seems so utterly bizarre.

Today is April Fools’ Day, though in my world, it’s not something I ever bother to “celebrate” except in the way I celebrate anything — by learning about it.

Our April Fools’ Day probably came from a combination of two different historical events. The Romans held a Hilaria Festival on March 25, celebrating with masks, jokes, games, parades, the first day of the year where daylight was longer than the dark. Also, until 1582, people used a Julian Calendar, where the first day of the year was April 1. When they switched to the Gregorian Calendar, some people didn’t know that the first day of the year had been changed to January 1 and so continued to celebrate on April 1. They were considered fools, fair game for the pranks more enlightened folk played on them. Yeah, fun.

The only time I have ever been a “good sport” about a practical joke is when someone said something outrageous, then immediately admitted they were just joking. Anything longer is just . . . well, it’s just cruel. For the rest, being a good sport seems to mean that anyone can do anything to you and you’re supposed to take it with a smile, and that’s something I can’t do since it gives tacit approval to unkindness. Luckily, I’m old enough not to care what sort of sport people think I am and so can stop pretending that meanness is fun.

So, whatever the general meaning of this day, to me it only means staying inside by myself until the pointless foolery is done.

 

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Stringing Stories Together

March 11, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I happened to read an old review of the Wheel of Time book saga, where the reviewer dismissed the massive work by saying all Jordan did was string together stories like The Lord of the Rings and Dune.

That made me laugh because that was sort of the point — an iteration of previous tales, stringing them together to create his world. No, Jordan didn’t copy those books. He simply paid homage to writers he loved, though there could be more similarity than maybe he intended because he used a lot of same sources as did those authors. What he did do, during the ten years he spent researching his world before writing one single word of the first book, was . . . well, research. He researched world myths, legends like King Arthur, folklore, history, costume, culture, war. Then he broke all that up into little pieces and rebuilt his world from those fragments of our past and an imagined future. There are few if any direct parallels to our word but instead there are multiple parallels for each character and culture.

For example, a lot of people think Jordan’s warrior culture, the Aiel, is based on the Fremen from Frank Herbert’s Dune since both are desert-dwelling warrior cultures, and perhaps Jordan did give a nod to Dune, but Jordan’s warrior culture is an amalgam of Zulu, Bedouin, Apache and Japanese cultures, and maybe some others. Their looks (pale skin, light hair, and light eyes) and their system of clan and sept is a parallel of old Scottish and Irish clans and septs. The Aiel are further connected to the Irish through the Tuatha’an, a Wheel of Time culture named after The Tuatha Dé Danann. And something I just discovered — their system of ownership, where women own the houses and everything in them, comes from the Cherokees. (In case you’re wondering, this puzzle aspect of the books is one of the reasons I keep rereading. It’s fun for me to dig out all the references.)

Jordan said over and over again that he wanted his world to be both our past and our future. As he pointed out, “You can look two ways along a wheel.” Also in his world, what goes around, comes around so that the characters in the books are the source of many of our myths and legends and we are the source of many of theirs. He said he wanted to explore what the nature and sources of our myths might be.

His explanation for why the myths and even the histories that the characters experience in The Wheel of Time are so different from ours is that what is remembered and how it’s remembered changes throughout the ages, like the game of Whisper, or Telephone, or Gossip, where someone passes a secret to the next person, who passes on what they heard to the next person, and in the end, what results is generally unlike what was originally said. His point was that things change over time, that stories change, that names change.

He points this out at the beginning of the first chapter of every book: “The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again.”

When asked where he got the idea of a wheel, he said, “The name comes out of Hindu mythology, where there is a belief that time is a wheel. Many older cultures believe that time is cyclic, that it repeats. In fact, I believe the best thing the ancient Greeks gave us was (the idea) that time was linear and change was possible.”

That’s for sure! There is a fatalism to the books stemming from the wheel, where everything will be repeated when the wheel comes around again, though perhaps with minor differences. Which also gives them their belief that you can change your life in small ways, but not large ones. Not an easy philosophy to live under.

But I’m getting away from my original point: to say that Jordan strung a bunch of stories together is true. Sort of. But it completely negates the brilliance of the world he created — our distant past and perhaps our distant future.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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The Algorithms Made Me Do It

March 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Algorithms are an interesting concept. Because I followed the monks’ walk, my news feed is full of Buddhist teachings as well as a daily meditation on peace from the walkers. Also, for some reason, I see a lot of biblical references especially referring to Armageddon.

Because I posted a blog about conspiracy theories, my feed is full of conspiracy theories, (Note to R.U. — including information about lizard people). Also, there’s much talk of what people have found in the Epstein files now that they are searchable for the public, confirming events that once were only surmised by the theorists.

Because I like to see all sides of what is called “truth,” I get a lot of leftist ideology. And because I sometimes check out news from black conservative commentators, I get a lot of information about what this administration is doing to counteract what the left is doing.

This makes for a wild ride, for sure. And it makes for wild thoughts, especially when seen through the lens of The Wheel of Time, which is, at its most basic, a tale of a cosmic battle between the forces of good (and not so good) and the forces of evil (and not totally evil).

What if the conspiracists and the biblical scholars are right and we are currently going through a cosmic battle that is being played on various stages?

The political stage, of course, which seems pretty obvious since the two sides are diametrically opposed.

The religious stage and the battle between cosmic forces for good and evil as described in The Lord of the Rings, The Wheel of Time, and countless other novels. An ongoing battle between Christians and those who are trying to decimate Christians, such as what is going on in Nigeria.

A technological stage with perhaps a battle between humans and artificial intelligence (as has been predicted in hundreds of science fiction stories for the past century). And what is called a paradigm shift from our present awareness to a greater one (or at least a different one) if we are to sustain our species.

If the algorithms are telling me anything, it’s that there is a present good to counter the “evil,” though I wouldn’t call it evil — it seems more like unrest, an acceptance of criminal behavior as the norm, and a growing feeling that laws don’t have to be followed if you feel morally superior to those laws. As the left continues to push their socialistic-communist agenda, others are fighting back, stressing individualism over collectivism. As the unrest grows, so does the personal need to find peace within and hence the vast influence of the Walk for Peace. And the paradigm shift continues to shift, at least on a political level, such as the abandonment of punitive climate controls to one that accepts the necessity of power-hungry AI data centers.

Even if there is some sort of cosmic battle going on, and even if I sometimes worry that the world is changing to a reality I might not be able to recognize, would we even notice, or for the most part, will our lives go on, with us noticing only small changes in how we interact with the world and each other?

Probably what will happen, no matter what the algorithms tell me, is the same thing that is happening in The Wheel of Time now that I have eliminated the ridiculous substitute-author ending from my studies — just the same scenarios played out over and over again.

Does any of this make sense? I have no idea if it even makes sense to me — it’s just a wild idea I am playing with. And who knows, maybe the algorithms made me do it.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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A Reflection of the Worlds

February 27, 2026 — Pat Bertram

The so-called real world and the imaginary world of the Wheel of Time are becoming intertwoven in my mind, so that I often see each in the other. More importantly, for the sake of this discussion, I’m beginning to see what is happening in our world as a reflection of the Wheel of Time.

I just watched a news reel where the commentator postulated that Trump and MAGA weren’t an accident but were a necessary response to the rapid political shift in the past decade on issues like immigration, crime, education, and national identity. He said that many voters felt as if the country was changing without them, ignoring what they believed in. Trump brought back into focus their basic ideals of secure borders, law enforcement, industry, and national unity.

The commentator further postulated that this mattered from a global perspective since nations competing in the world market need both unity and public trust. When a significant number of voters feel underrepresented, national strength declines and now, as much as ever, we need that strength. As the commentator said, “That’s why Trump functioned less as an anomaly — and more as a political correction. Not just politics. A system adjustment.”

This post isn’t about whether you or I agree with his comments. It’s not even about Trump or MAGA. It’s about the words “response” and “corrective” and “adjustment” and the chord they struck with me because of how they reflect the Wheel of Time.

In the Wheel of Time, there is a phenomenon called ta’verern, which is a necessary response to shifts in the Pattern. The Wheel of Time weaves the Pattern of the Ages, and the threads it uses are lives. When the weave drifts too far from the pattern, it chooses a ta’verern to make adjustments, to correct the weave. Though these people might choose to be leaders, they can’t choose to be ta’verern. The pattern chooses them, and for a while, regardless of what they want, all surrounding threads are forced to swirl around them, like a leaf in a whirlpool. In the case of the Wheel of Time, people hate the ta’verern, fear him, misunderstand him, conspire against him, try to kill him. Some follow him; some even see the truth of what he is trying to do. But love or hate him, he changes all their lives just by being ta’verern. Just by being.

I’m not saying Trump is ta’verern. Of course, I’m not saying he isn’t, either. Still, whether hated or loved, plotted against or followed, he does seem to be a focal point for much that is happening in the world today.

You might not find this reflection of the Wheel of Time amusing, but I do.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Weary of Lies

February 21, 2026 — Pat Bertram

In 1976, swine flu was discovered at an army training center, and several people got sick. Testing confirmed that the disease had spread to more than 200 people, and suddenly, public officials panicked. Money was poured into development of a vaccine that was intended to inoculate every single person in the United States. The scare stories were horrific, with countless news articles predicting a repeat of the 1918 flu pandemic.

The vaccine was developed quickly, and people lined up for the shot. (Literally, a shot — needle-free jet injections shot from some sort of gun.) By then, for good reasons (unimportant to this story) I had developed a vast distrust of the medical establishment and didn’t want to get inoculated. At the time, I was managing a franchised fabric store, and the district manager told me that I needed to set a good example for my employees. And if I didn’t, I’d be fired. I was young and still too honest to even think of lying and just telling him I got the vaccine so, to my utter shame, I caved and got the injection. It backfired on him because I refused to make anyone else get the shot. In fact, I didn’t tell anyone except him that I was inoculated. Even before I learned the truth that I’d only surmised — that the whole thing was a misdirection, that there wasn’t going to be a pandemic, that the flu was mild, and that the vaccine caused various health issues for people, some not until later in life — I vowed that never again would I fall for one of their scarifying schemes.

I was lucky, and so far have managed to be side-effect free from that swine flu vaccination, but I never forgot that episode. I never told anyone I got the vaccine either, until just now — I was that ashamed of my lack of confidence in myself.

So fast forward to 2020. Same story. I admit, I was afraid — those scare tactics work even on people who are aware of them. But I remembered my vow, and though I didn’t lie, I never told anyone I didn’t get the vaccine. I couldn’t. People were willing to turn in friends and neighbors who didn’t comply with mandates, and even though I trusted the people I knew, I couldn’t take a chance. (At that time, they were talking about rounding up the unvaccinated and incarcerating them in FEMA camps.) Even with stories of the necessity for showing proof of vaccine and such, I believed I was right. Of course, I took precautions, staying home almost all the time, and on the rare occasions I had to go out, I made sure to keep away from people. By then, though, I wasn’t really worried about getting sick since I don’t seem to get the flu. (I don’t really know why. Something to do with blood type and stronger protein coatings on cells, or so I’ve read.)

As time passed, stories started coming out about horrendous problems stemming from the vaccine. Young people who now have heart conditions. Middle-aged people who died. Older people who developed severe eye problems. And more.

A lot of people who didn’t get the vaccine or any of the boosters are patting themselves on the back for their perspicacity, but I’m not. It’s just one of those things that life taught me: to trust myself, not the science. (Thalidomide, anyone?)

We’re still dealing with fallout from the shutdowns, but already people seem to have forgotten how much we were forced into giving up our autonomy. But it’s important to remember. And it’s important to remember that we were lied to.

The lies are still there — maybe not about diseases and vaccines, but oh, so many lies that it’s hard to find one’s way through the maze. But it’s possible, if not to figure out the truth, at least to recognize the lies. It’s about looking at both sides objectively without emotional ties to either. It’s about seeing the pattern (as with those two universal vaccination attempts, though admittedly, a sample of two isn’t much of a pattern). See who actually benefits from the lies; who ends up richer because of the lies; who acts as if their lies only affect other people, not them. (For example, if you hear someone say the oceans are going to rise in the next few years because of climate change and then they buy ocean-front property, there’s a good chance someone is lying.)

Just as with the vaccines, I seldom talk to anyone about things I’ve researched and lies I’ve uncovered because people believe what they want to believe. Too many people seem to want the same old story — a simple plot, a villain to hate, a feeling of moral superiority — and so the complexity of what is going on in the world slips by them while they remain emotionally entrenched in the noble myth they choose to believe. Luckily, I have one or two good friends who have done much of the same research as I have, so I can talk without getting a heap of programmed responses in return. But still, I am weary of the lies — a lifetime of lies — and weary of the people who accept the lies for truth without bothering to look further.

Oops. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get on my soapbox. I generally don’t let my guard down, but I am writing at night when I am physically tired, not just mentally tired.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

 

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That “R” Thing Again

February 20, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?
View all responses

There are many terms that really get on my nerves, words and phrases I don’t use and would like expunged from the English/American language: “110%” (a physical impossibility); “intestinal fortitude” (just have the guts to say “guts”); “veggies” (the very sound of that mawkish word gags me), and “climate change” (the term is redundant. Climate is change. Climate is always changing).

Recently I have expunged another word from my vocabulary, and though I would like it banned from general use, simply the idea of suggesting banning it would seem to prove the very thing I would like banned.

It’s that “R” thing I wrote about yesterday. The word is so dangerous, so powerful and pejorative that just being called that “R” thing will bring down collective wrath on your head. It’s the one thing that is outside the normal rule of “innocent until proven guilty.” If you’re called that “R” thing, whether or not you did anything to earn that slur, that’s what you are. End of story. Except it’s not the end. Just being called that “R” thing can get you banned from social sites online and community groups offline, can get you ostracized from family or friends, and can sometimes get you fired from your job. It also subverts the law — too many district attorneys refuse to charge criminals for minor crimes and even great crimes, and they ignore fraudsters for stealing billions because they don’t want to be tarnished with the brush of that “R” thing.

I’m not saying the “R” thing doesn’t exist, but that the word itself has become something separate from the behavior it describes. It’s become such a triggering word that the true definition has all but been lost — there seems to be a disconnect between how easily the word is thrown out there and what it actually means.

People have become hyper-vigilant toward cultural nuance or slight and what can be perceived as aggression (even if it’s not directed at them), and they are quick to point it out. At the same time, we have become hypersensitive to and fearful of being called that “R” thing. In a world where words are considered an instance of violence, this could be the most violent. It’s also a weapon, a sure-fire way to silence opposition, to shut down any discussion, and with it any hope of true understanding because it’s an attack on the speaker, not on what is spoken.

Nowadays, it seems as if everything is viewed through that “R” lens, even when unnecessary, even if what you say is true or is not in any way divisive or derogatory.

Yesterday, I posted a blog about the conservative black commentators I have been following. As far as I can see, there was nothing discriminatory about what I wrote, and yet I hesitated to post it because of that “R” thing. I’d already been slandered on Facebook for simply sharing a post from a black commentator, and I didn’t want to continue being slandered. On the other hand, why should I not be able to write what I think just because others might see that “R” thing in my words?

Anyway, whatever anyone else does, in my little world (basically just me and this blog), I am getting rid of that word. There are plenty of other words to use to describe that particular attitude, words that aren’t as incendiary, words such as prejudiced, biased, intolerant, discriminatory, xenophobic, ethnocentric. Too bad I can’t also get rid of the emotional connotations attached to being called the “R” thing, but I’m afraid it’s now embedded the world today, and even in my own psyche. Still, there’s hope . . . well, probably not. I’ve always been sensitive to any sort of slight, and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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The “R” Thing

February 19, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I don’t know if I’ll ever post this because of . . . you know, the “R” thing. Still, I’m writing this for me because I think it’s interesting and because it’s something I’ve been noticing and thinking about.

I mentioned once or twice before that I sometimes listen to conservative black commentators. I started because I wanted to hear what they thought about white liberals insinuating (if not flat out saying) that blacks were too stupid to figure out how to get an ID in order to vote. Interestingly, most of those commentators ignored the issue, as if it had nothing to do with them because of course, it didn’t. The insinuation is merely talk from people who haven’t a clue what they are saying and no concept of how the world works.

I continued watching these commentators because they are smart and informed, they have great sources and resources, and they gave me a different slant on what was happening in this country. I especially wanted to hear things from their point of view rather than from the white liberals who are always telling us what blacks think (or what they should think).

That’s neither here nor there. It’s just something I did. But here’s what’s interesting: suddenly, I’m seeing a lot of these non-white people asking, “Where are the whites?” You’d think (if you listened to liberals) that living in a white-free world is what people of color want, but it isn’t. These commentators want what most of us want — to be known as Americans (or rather, United-States-ians since “American” suddenly means something different from what it always has meant), and they want to be part of a country where the races can intermingle. The first time I heard a mention of disappearing whites was from a black commentator who reviewed the half-time show. She said if it was supposed to be inclusive, “Where are the whites?” And then she admitted she missed seeing them.

Another black woman said that if it’s okay to promote black-owned business, then it should be okay to promote businesses as white-owned, but instead of doing either, she concluded, all these businesses should simply be promoted as “American-owned businesses.”

Then another black commentator noticed a white student being blocked from entering a “multi-cultural” area on campus and pointed out that “multi-cultural” by definition would include whites.

And yet another black commentator mentioned the difference between black pride and white pride — one is hailed as a good thing, the other evil.

And one often tells the history of slavery and mentions that whites are the only ones who fought to get rid of slavery, a practice that has gone on all over the world for thousands of years.

A prevalent comment left on these videos is from whites telling them they are betraying their race. Luckily, the commentators continue to voice their opinions despite this.

It seems ironic (or maybe fitting? I don’t know) in a world that’s trying to erase whites, where whites are made to feel ashamed of their heritage and skin color, where you can’t state simple facts if those facts include “whiteness,” where the European influence on the founding of this country is being overwritten, where an entire generation of white boys have been demonized for things that happened before they were born, it’s blacks who are pointing this out.

Maybe I am that “R” thing as so-called friends on Facebook once railed at me when I merely shared a post by a conservative black commentator who refused to be told what to think simply because her skin was a certain color.

Still, I think it’s an interesting turn of events, and apparently, since you are reading this, I decided it was interesting enough to post here on my blog.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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