Owning the Word
As a writer, I live in a world where words matter a great deal. The exact adjective I choose to describe something, the exact title I give to a book, the exact combination of sentences and phrases and ideas that make my story mine. And writers know better than anyone the power that words can have. Words inspire, incite, encourage, and entreat. Great words from the mouths of great human beings last longer than generations.
And vile words cast a pall over entire nations and peoples and moments in history.
My love of words might be in my DNA. Mark Twain is in my family tree. Martha Washington is as well. If you consult Ancestry dot com you’ll find the first sign of my ancestors on this continent occurred in the Virginia colony in the 1600s. I’m a descendent of slave owners, French hillbilly moonshiners, and an English jeweler whose family served Queen Victoria. I’m also the daughter of two first generation college graduates. My family tree mirrors the best and the worst of America over the last three hundred years.
So when my word-loving, thoroughly American heart heard “send her back,” chanted at Donald…
