every once in a while I run into that old line from Pastor Niemöller—
the one about staying silent as people were being taken away.
There are lots of versions of it, but the spirit’s always the same:
when folks get divided up into “us” and “them,” something dangerous starts to happen.
What always gets me is how ordinary it all looked at first.
Little steps.
Small changes.
People going quiet.
Other people looking away.
And then one day the world wakes up and wonders how it slid so far.
I’m not trying to teach history here.
I’m just thinking out loud about how a society can drift, and how easy it is to stop seeing each other as human beings.
That part matters to me.
And it’s part of why I’m doing this walk to the Peace Arch.
It’s not a protest, not a campaign, not a message I’m sending to the world.
It’s just something that feels right in my bones — a long slow walk that gives me time to sort out what kind of person I want to be.
And when I get there, on September 11th, 2026…
I’m planning to offer Donald Trump a hug.
Not because I agree with him.
Not because I disagree.
Not because I expect anything to come of it.
It’s simply the gesture that makes sense to me — my way of reminding myself to keep people human, even when we see the world differently.
Especially then.
Other folks will have their own ways of dealing with the divisions out there.
Their guides will look different than mine, and that’s exactly how it should be.
But for me, reaching out instead of pulling away keeps me steady.
It doesn’t fix the world, but it keeps me from hardening.
I guess that’s what this whole project has been about —
learning how to walk toward people instead of around them,
and doing it in a way that feels honest to who I am.
A hug at a border won’t solve the century’s problems.
But it’s one small way for me to say:
I’m still trying.
I’m still walking.
I’m still willing to meet you as a person.
And that’s all it is.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Just my way of keeping the world a little more human as I make my way through it.