A Note From Porto
It’s a quiet morning in Porto, Portugal. I’m sipping green tea in a corner of the lovely Torel Palace, a late-1800s building, grateful for this time away.
I just finished reading Maria Shriver’s Architects for Change article featuring her conversation with Ken Burns. What began as a casual read turned into something far more meaningful, and within just five minutes, I found myself unexpectedly humbled.
It made me realize how much of my daily communication has been reduced to snippets, headlines, fleeting opinions, and the pursuit of what captures attention in the moment. Rarely do I slow down long enough to sit with history, context, and the people whose choices shaped the lives we live today.
History was never my strongest subject, yet this conversation opened a new door for me. As I read, I found myself reflecting on George Washington — not the figure whose portrait appears on our currency, but a man willing to risk everything for an idea that had never truly been tested: that people could govern themselves. That perspective changes how I see courage. It reminds me that the people we now admire had no guarantee their sacrifices would succeed or even be remembered. It also calls attention to the countless untold heroes — the women, African Americans, Native Americans, immigrants, and ordinary citizens — whose strength, resilience, and contributions were essential in shaping the foundation we stand on today. Their stories deserve not just acknowledgment, but pride.
As our nation approaches its 250th birthday, I am struck by the extraordinary vision, grit, and willingness to sacrifice shown by those who came before us. Despite the differences of opinion that have always existed (and still do today) they imagined something larger than themselves. Because they were willing to take profound risks, generations of Americans have had opportunities that otherwise might never have existed.
Was it perfect? No. But it was undeniably bold, expansive, and rooted in a belief that something greater was possible. That kind of thinking — big, imperfect, and courageous — is something worth honoring and carrying forward.
Perhaps that is what moved me most. History reminds us that today’s divisions are not new. They have existed since our nation’s founding. Yet it also reminds us that we share a common story and a common responsibility.
As Ken Burns simply put it, “There’s only us. No them.”
That perspective alone is worth slowing down for.
This Fourth of July, even while I’m far from home, I’ll spend a little extra time counting my blessings. I’ll be grateful not only for the freedoms I’ve inherited but also for the countless people — famous and unknown — who had the courage to begin this extraordinary experiment in self-government.
And it leaves me with a question I hope to carry home:
What small difference can I make today that might quietly ripple forward for the next 250 years?
