LETTERS TO THE EDITOR — Feb. 25, 2026
Published 1:30 am Wednesday, February 25, 2026
Our children will blame us
The children of the future are going to curse us. Every last one of us. They will blame us all for doing nothing to change our ways.
We are, all eight billion of us, frogs in a pot of water. And all, collectively, turning up the dial on the rheostat regulating earth’s climate.
The children of the very near future won’t care much that some humans were doing whatever they could individually. Because collectively, we are not.
They will blame us for electing the worst possible leader at this pivotal moment, to lead the most influential nation on earth backwards.
The EPA was created in 1970, during Republican President Richard Nixon’s second year in office. Clean air standards followed shortly afterward. The automakers had to adapt. But now, Trump is axing everything that protects the environment.
The children of the future will ask, WHY? Why didn’t they do everything they possibly could, now? WHY?
We are doing multifarious damage to our planet, with plastics, forever chemicals and endless consumption of cheap disposable stuff. WHY?
We live upon on a singular, unimaginably biologically diverse planet which has made possible all human dreams, all life preceding our own, and is possibly God’s finest creation.
And God’s going to reward us with eternal life in Heaven for destroying this paradise?
Tom LaRue
Carlsborg
History repeats: A personal tale
Observing the assembly of protestors at the intersection of Sequim Avenue and E. Washington stirred memories of my family’s history: three generations shaped by the forces of totalitarianism and nationalism. The sight reminded me that the struggles of the past have not disappeared; they echo in the present as communities gather to express their voices and defend their rights.
Reflecting on my family’s journey, I recognize that history offers a solemn reminder: democratic freedoms are fragile and must be vigilantly protected. As global divisions and authoritarian tendencies rise once more, our liberties remain vulnerable if we allow complacency to take hold. It is crucial to stay alert to resurgent intolerance and to uphold pluralistic values together.
My family’s history began in 1900, when my grandfather left Tsarist Lithuania for America to escape oppression. He worked in Baltimore, but economic struggles and anti-immigrant sentiment in the 1920s led him to return to independent Lithuania with his six American-born children.
Two decades later, war forced my mother and me to flee westward; my father remained behind and was lost to the Siberian Gulags. My mother, a nurse, worked in a Berlin hospital during the war, and her American birth enabled her to return to the U.S. immediately. My mother and I, however, spent three years in Displaced Persons camps until I was cleared for entry. We eventually settled in New York, where I learned English and faced discrimination for my accent and background. Through these challenges, I learned to stand up for myself, and at age 10, I became a citizen of the USA.
Despite all hardships, America gave me room to breathe, the freedom to grow, and the space to dream. It allowed me to become a pilot and raise a family. Yet, at times, I have wondered whether I should leave again. The question lingers: Where would I go? Returning to Lithuania is not an option; the country once again faces the threat of Russian aggression. The patterns of history are too familiar to ignore.
If the past teaches us anything, it is that totalitarianism never truly disappears — it merely waits for another opportunity. Two hundred and fifty years ago, this nation was built not only by those who signed its founding documents but also by the blood of countless individuals who fought to make freedom real. I worry, sometimes, that their sacrifices — and our freedoms — may be slipping away faster than we can prevent.
Jay Sakas
Sequim
