Baby Che

"I know you are here to kill me," Che says with guns staring him in the face. "Shoot coward! You're only going to kill a man."

And they did.

Pulling their triggers, they shot a captured man dead.

Then they took their pictures with him.

They took one of his dead face to prove the great revolutionary ... the lover of the poor ... hater of what makes poverty in the first place ... dead.

Like the United States wanted.

Che had beaten the US at it's own game and Democracy ruled by Capitalism couldn't stand for that so, pretending the CIA were helping, America shot him dead.

America had won again!

USA! ... USA! ... USA!

Only it didn't.

Throughout the world, especially among the poor, he lives ... just as Jesus does for millions more.

Che's photograph is "the most famous in the world."

The USA won a battle.

Che lives.

Who won the war?

My baby girl is almost five months formed in Sarah's womb.

I kiss you every single day hoping the love makes it all the way to your cheek on the other side of your Mom's belly.

You will be called lots of things in your life.

I certainly have been and they're not always nice.

And there are those who will do their best to kill you too, at least in spirit, and killing's killing.

Clare Hope Elliott is your name.

Clare from a county in Ireland.

Hope because you are and it matches the names on your Mom's back.

Elliott because it's passed down to you from me.

But Che!

Well, Che is who you are.

Just the Truth

"All I've got is a photograph ..." Ringo sings.

Jumping on the computer things I've done in the past ... or friends did ... or people I worked with ... pop up in my feed.

Glancing at them, especially if they include me, I smirk and think, "Good times!"

Until some that give me pause.

This is one.

It was an exciting day.

The TODAY Show's in town and we're the reason.

The day before a film crew is interviewing and filming me doing things.

Today it's broadcast as Al Roker does four live remotes from a Culinary Arts Program for Homeless people I'd helped start ... in a restaurant they ran.

Word's leaked out it's happening so every elected official in a hundred mile radius is trying to get on National Television.

I remember Val Johnson being only the one succeeding.

Politicians live for the camera.

Al Roker's great on camera ... not so much when the lights are off.

He's nice enough ... posing for pictures for countless people we continue to parade before him for their limelight moment with a celebrity.

It's a good day ... national exposure for what we do ... well wishes from the nice people and hate from those believing it should be them and not me getting the glory.

Al Roker puts his arm around my shoulder to ask if he can return in a year for a follow up story.

After it's over, calls flood in wanting to help or learn how we did it.

It was a long time ago.

Al's gotten older though he's still vivacious when the camera's turned on ... probably depressed when it's off.

It was a different time in a different place.

This picture pops up in my feed out nowhere to give me pause.

Aside from Al, we all worked together, and I loved them dearly ... believing in them as they believed in me ... as we changed the world ... making it a better place.

Today, I struggle to forgive three of the people in this picture.

My initial reaction on seeing them is "Hell is not hot enough."

The other one warms my heart with fondness and I'd like to see him again.

I don't want hate in my life.

"God forgive them for they know not what they do," I think.

And they didn't.

I delete the picture and get on with the time on watch which says simply, "Now."

"You should just write the truth," Sarah often chides. "You don't need to embellish or do fiction."

So there Babes.

Today's is just the truth.