In the grand tapestry of geologic time, the Wasatch Range is a relatively young creation, formed millions of years ago when the forces of plate tectonics lifted the mountains from the floor of the Cretaceous Seaway, a vast inland sea that once spanned much of North America. As the land shifted and rose, what was once a shallow marine environment became a towering range of mountains that now rise above the valleys of northern Utah. To walk through this range is to step back into time, touching the remnants of an era when dinosaurs roamed these lands, and primordial lakes shimmered in the sunlight.

Today, as humans, we are privileged to explore these mountain trails, witnessing the beauty of creation in its most elemental form. It’s not just rock and soil beneath our feet, but the accumulated artistry of nature over eons—crafted by forces far beyond our control, yet generously shared with us.

One of the most enchanting ways to experience this ancient landscape is through the Stevens Cascade Trail #056, a beautiful hike nestled in the heart of the Wasatch Range, near Sundance, Utah.

The Path Through a Living Tapestry

The Stevens Cascade Trail winds through the dense forests and open meadows of the Wasatch Range, showcasing an array of tree species that thrive in this alpine environment. Towering Douglas fir, blue spruce, and quaking aspen create a canopy of green, offering both shade and beauty to hikers. In the spring and summer months, wildflowers such as Indian paintbrush, lupine, and columbine bloom in vibrant colors, carpeting the meadows and contrasting with the rugged mountain backdrop.

As you walk the trail, you are surrounded by the hum of life. The melodic song of birds, the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, and the occasional sight of a deer or moose grazing quietly remind you that this is not just a place for humans, but a sanctuary for wildlife. The Wasatch Range is home to a variety making every hike a true wilderness experience.

The Waterfall: Stevens Cascade

One of the trail’s most captivating features is the Stevens Cascade, a waterfall that tumbles gracefully down a series of rocky ledges, creating a peaceful, almost meditative atmosphere. The sound of the rushing water, combined with the sight of it glistening in the sunlight, is enough to leave you mesmerized. This waterfall, fed by snowmelt from the peaks above, serves as a reminder of the vital role water plays in this ecosystem. It nourishes the trees, the flowers, and the wildlife, and refreshes the weary hiker who comes across it.

The trail to the waterfall is moderate in difficulty, with a few steep sections, but the reward of reaching Stevens Cascade is well worth the effort. As you stand before the waterfall, you can feel the cool mist on your face and hear the soothing sound of water cascading over rock—an invitation to pause, breathe, and appreciate the wonders of nature.

Sundance Resort: A Legacy of Preservation

The Stevens Cascade Trail is just one of many natural wonders surrounding Sundance Mountain Resort. Founded by actor and environmentalist Robert Redford in 1969, Sundance Resort has become a hub for outdoor enthusiasts and nature lovers. Redford’s vision was to create a place where people could connect with the environment while preserving the natural beauty of the area. His efforts have helped maintain the pristine conditions of the resort and its surrounding trails, ensuring that future generations can continue to enjoy the wilderness.

Redford’s commitment to conservation is evident in every aspect of the resort, from the sustainable building practices to the emphasis on environmental education and the arts. Sundance isn’t just a destination for skiing or hiking—it’s a place where people are encouraged to reflect on their relationship with the natural world and to become stewards of the land.

The Wild Symphony

Throughout the seasons, the landscape of Stevens Cascade Trail changes, offering hikers a new perspective each time they visit. In spring, the meadows are alive with the soft colors of blooming wildflowers, and the trees are flush with new leaves. By summer, the sun casts golden rays across the mountains, and the wildflowers are in full bloom. Fall brings a breathtaking display of color as the aspens turn golden yellow and orange, contrasting with the deep green of the conifers. Even in winter, the trail is transformed into a peaceful wonderland of snow and ice, with the waterfall partially frozen in time.

And amidst all of this natural beauty, there’s a deep sense of reverence that one cannot help but feel. We are, after all, just visitors here. The mountains, the trees, the animals—they have been here long before us and will remain long after we’re gone. But for a brief moment, we are given the privilege of walking among them, of witnessing the raw beauty of God’s creation.

A Hike for All Time

The Stevens Cascade Trail #056 is more than just a hike—it’s an invitation to reconnect with the earth, to appreciate the complex and delicate web of life that sustains us all. As you walk this trail, you’re reminded of the ancient forces that shaped the land and the living things that call it home. Whether you’re standing before the waterfall, watching the wind ripple through the aspens, or catching a glimpse of a wild animal in the distance, you can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude.

Here, in the Wasatch Range, where mountains rise from the floor of an ancient sea and life flourishes in abundance, we are offered a glimpse into the very heart of creation. And in that moment, we are reminded of the immense privilege it is to walk this earth, if only for a short while.

As time passes, memories fade, and the essence of who we are and how we came to be becomes increasingly obscure. Recently, thoughts of my father crystallized when my dear friend of many decades paid tribute to his own father at a museum dedication. His father had been a member of the Ghost Army during World War II, a secretive unit designed to deceive the Germans with decoys and sound recordings, diverting attention from combat Allied forces. Their contributions remained classified for half a century, but were recently recognized by Congress, awarding the unit the Congressional Medal of Honor for their role in saving over 30,000 lives.

My father also served during World War II, as a traffic controller in the Army Air Force during the North African Campaign, directing air traffic against Rommel’s Nazi forces. Like many veterans, he rarely spoke of his wartime experiences. 

His life was characterized by self-sacrifice. Losing his father at a young age, he supported his mother by working as a soda jerk, scooping so much chocolate ice cream that he developed a lifelong aversion to it. He left for the war as a newlywed, uncertain if he would return to his bride.

After the war, he moved our family to Queens, to a housing development for returning GIs. I grew up in an environment where friends and family were always present. My father was dedicated to us; he attended Little League games, took us on vacations in the Catskills, and celebrated our academic and sports achievements. He never resorted to physical punishment; a word or a look from him was enough to keep us in line. He spent every Friday night with his mother-in-law, content with the close-knit family gatherings.

He was a pillar of the community. When our neighbor couldn’t repay a Mafia loan, my father used his own limited funds to save him from retribution. He volunteered at the local Credit Union, and when it was on the brink of closure, he took over and saved it. Despite his limited formal education, having grown up during the Great Depression, he excelled in banking and aspired to improve his position. He treated my friends and acquaintances with fairness and shared his hard-earned wisdom on navigating life’s challenges.

For half a century, he worked at a multinational textile company. Lacking a degree, his career advancement was limited, but his work ethic, fairness, and sense of responsibility were recognized, and he managed a division separate from the main headquarters. He supervised a diverse office with respect and fairness, never uttering a disrespectful word or racial epithet.

My father was my moral compass, teaching me right from wrong through his actions. Beyond providing for us, he imparted lessons on family, duty, respecting others, and “doing the right thing.” Over three decades have passed since his death, but his lessons remain with me.

This tribute is long overdue: “Thank you, Dad. I love you.”

The cognitive health of a nation’s leader can have far-reaching consequences that extend beyond their term in office. A striking example of this is the case of President Woodrow Wilson, whose impairment during crucial post-World War I negotiations may have indirectly contributed to the conditions that led to World War II.

In 1918, Wilson contracted influenza during the global pandemic. This illness, coupled with a severe stroke in October 1919, left him significantly impaired during the final year of his presidency[1]. This period coincided with critical negotiations for the Treaty of Versailles, which would shape the post-war world order.

Wilson’s diminished capacity meant he was unable to effectively advocate for his “Fourteen Points” plan, which aimed for a more balanced peace[2]. Instead, harsher terms were imposed on Germany, creating economic hardship and national resentment that would later be exploited by extremist political movements[3].

The consequences of these decisions were catastrophic. World War II resulted in an estimated 70-85 million deaths worldwide[4], a scale of loss that might have been preventable had the post-WWI peace process been handled differently.

This historical example underscores the critical importance of a president’s cognitive function. Executive functions such as decision-making, problem-solving, and communication are essential for effective leadership, particularly in times of crisis or complex international negotiations[5].

One aspect of cognitive function that plays a crucial role in leadership is prosody – the rhythm, stress, and intonation of speech. Prosody is not merely about eloquence; it significantly impacts how messages are received and interpreted. Research has shown that prosodic features of speech can influence listeners’ comprehension, emotional response, and even decision-making[6].

In the context of presidential communication, prosody can affect a leader’s ability to motivate a nation, provide hope in times of crisis, and effectively convey complex policy decisions. Presidents who have been noted for their strong oratorical skills, such as Franklin D. Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy, used prosody effectively to rally public support and communicate their vision[7].

The implications of this are significant for the democratic process. When electing a president, voters are not just choosing a set of policies, but also a communicator-in-chief who must be able to lead effectively in times of national and global crisis. The cognitive health of candidates should be a key consideration in the electoral process.

It’s important to note that cognitive health is a complex issue influenced by many factors, and simplistic or discriminatory approaches should be avoided. However, given the potential long-term consequences of presidential decision-making, it is crucial that voters have accurate information about candidates’ cognitive capabilities and that robust systems are in place to ensure continuity of effective governance under all circumstances.

[1] Cooper, J. M. (2009). Woodrow Wilson: A Biography. Knopf.
[2] MacMillan, M. (2001). Paris 1919: Six Months That Changed the World. Random House.
[3] Keynes, J. M. (1920). The Economic Consequences of the Peace. Harcourt, Brace and Howe.
[4] Weinberg, G. L. (2005). A World at Arms: A Global History of World War II. Cambridge University Press.
[5] Goldstein, K. (2015). The Executive Brain: Frontal Lobes and the Civilized Mind. Oxford University Press.
[6] Scherer, K. R., & Bänziger, T. (2004). Emotional Expression in Prosody: A Review and an Agenda for Future Research. Speech Communication, 46(1-2), 180-203.
[7] Leanne, S. (2016). Say It Like Obama and Win!: The Power of Speaking with Purpose and Vision. McGraw Hill Professional.

It is troubling that his closest allies dismissed this as just a “bad night.” This situation is reminiscent of Monty Python’s Black Knight, who, after losing all his limbs after a duel with King Arthur, insists it is “only a flesh wound.” Such deflection ignores the serious implications of what we witnessed.

While I am not a neurologist, but just a humble retired GI doc, I have observed patients and family with neurologic symptoms and signs, taught mental status exams  for 5 years to  medical students and watched 10 seasons of ER. While watching the debate, terms like “abnormal prosody” and “paraphrasing errors” came to mind.. Coupled with a noticeably slowed, narrow gait, vascular Parkinson’s disease may be the disease process we are witnessing. This can mimic neurodegenerative disorders and  often follows a progressive course.

The stakes are too high to ignore these signs. Ensuring that the most powerful position in the world is held by someone who is neurologically and psychologically sound is not just a matter of political strategy—it is a matter of national and global security. If we are to avoid potential tragedy, we must confront these issues with the seriousness they deserve.

The recent debate should prompt a thorough and transparent evaluation of President Biden’s capacity to fulfill the demands of his office. Anything less risks dooming not just our nation, but the world, to the consequences of impaired leadership. The time for empathy and decisive action is now, for the sake of all our futures.

Beatles Quiz: Program from Beatles concert at Carnegie Hall 1964: Spot the Error!

Auditioning for a Liberty Mutual Ad

Capitalism’s Answer to Anxiety and Depression in Today’s Society

Plaque on Park Avenue and 37th Street honoring Mary Lindley Murray, a Revolutionary War Hero who served tea to General Howe’s troops, delaying their pursuit of George Washington’s troops and saving the nation. Why don’t we drink tea honoring this beverage that saved the Union?

The first piano from 18th century Italy (Pianoforte, Bartolemeo Cristofori 1655-1731). Marked the beginning of the decline of the Harpsichord Industry.

Protest movements start with a belief and idea, challenged and changed by special interests and ultimately hardened by money, mobs and weaponry.

In the 1970s, I was actively involved in protests against U.S. Foreign Policy during the Vietnam War. At that time, like many others, my understanding of the conflict was shaped by what I was taught in high school and what I saw in the media. The prevailing narrative portrayed Communist Vietnam as a dire threat to Southeast Asia and the American way of life, invoking the Domino Theory to justify U.S. intervention.

However, my perspective shifted when I entered college and was exposed to different viewpoints, particularly through the teachings of professors at New York University. They challenged the credibility of the Domino Theory, pointing to evidence that contradicted the official narrative. This newfound knowledge had profound implications, especially for those of us who were of draft age, as it exposed the true motivations behind U.S. involvement in Vietnam: financial gain for military manufacturers and the perpetuation of the military-industrial complex. 

Moreover, my involvement in protests during that time exposed me to the harsh reality of government suppression and violence. Instances like the infamous clashes in Chicago and Washington D.C.(where I had a serving of tear gas)  served as stark reminders of the lengths to which those in power would go to quell dissent.

Fast forward to today’s protests on college campuses, and I can’t help but draw parallels and differences to what is occurring now.  As a former student of USC Medical School and a prior employee at Columbia University, I know and experienced the historical Jewish influences in both institutions. Given this background, it is disquieting, witnessing the alarming rise of anti-Semitic rhetoric and the uncritical support for the Palestinian cause, often coupled with indirect endorsements of Hamas, a terrorist group defined by the U.S. and neighboring Arab nations.

This shift in discourse is puzzling, especially given the historical significance of Judaism in intellectual and collegiate life. It seems that the true history of Zionism, born out of a response to European colonialism and centuries of Jewish persecution, has been conveniently overlooked or distorted. Similarly, the violence perpetrated against Jewish communities in Palestine during British rule has been swept under the rug, along with Israel’s defensive actions against relentless attacks by neighboring Arab states.

One cannot ignore the role of financial interests in shaping these narratives. Arab states, particularly Qatar, have poured significant funds into academic institutions, influencing discourse and faculty appointments and fostering pro-Palestinian sentiments as well as funding the underground tunnels and offensive weapons used by Hamas against the State of Israel.. As a result, Israel, once seen as a beacon of hope born out of the ashes of the Holocaust, is now portrayed as an oppressive state in the eyes of many on college campuses.

Yet amidst the rhetoric and polarization, it’s important to remember the human cost of the conflict. Innocent Palestinians suffer due to their leadership’s prioritization of weaponry over education and development, while Israel faces constant threats to its existence and is forced to adopt a more conservative approach, including rejecting the two-state solution.

Ultimately, what’s needed is rational governance and a commitment to dialogue and compromise from all sides. Only then can we hope to pave the way for lasting peace in the Middle East, where the safety and well-being of all its inhabitants are prioritized above all else.

For decades, I have harbored a profound respect for bison. From childhood encounters at the Bronx Zoo to thrilling wildlife sightings in Yellowstone National Park, I have always been captivated by their strength and resilience. However, their journey in America has been fraught with hardship. Once roaming the Great Plains in millions, their numbers dwindled to near extinction by the late 19th century due to excessive hunting and habitat loss.

Fortunately, the 20th century witnessed a concerted effort towards bison conservation, leading to their gradual resurgence. Yet, California was not typically considered part of their natural range. This is where the story of Camp Pendleton’s bison takes an unexpected turn.

In the 1970’s the San Diego Zoo partnered with Camp Pendleton to establish a breeding program with the introduction of Adam and Eve, a pair of bison. Despite the seemingly incongruous setting of a military base, this program proved immensely successful. Over the years, the herd has flourished, with over 150 bison now roaming the hills and mesas of Camp Pendleton.

Their primary habitat lies near the artillery range, offering a stark contrast to the sounds of military exercises. As a Marine soldier and fellow golfer shared, “We often have to stop shooting practice while the bison graze through the area. They have no natural predators here, except for the occasional golf ball or shell fragment.”

This observation resonated deeply. Witnessing these majestic creatures thrive under the protection of the very institutions that once played a role in their historical decline served as a powerful reminder of our evolving relationship with nature. The story of the Camp Pendleton bison serves as a beacon for hope, reminding us that even in the midst of human activity, nature can find a way to adapt and thrive.

Blooming Wildflowers: As I set foot on the trail, my eyes widened with delight. The recent snows and rains had cast a spell, and the wildflowers responded by bursting into bloom with such enthusiasm that even the most seasoned botanists would be envious. Golden Columbine, Woods’ rose, Common Pacific Pea, Sticky Geranium, Wasatch Penstemon, and Pacific Ninebark paraded their colors, turning the trail into a living tapestry. Thankfully, I had my trusty sidekick, the Picture This app, to help me identify each flower. With a snap and a click, I became a botanist extraordinaire. Move over, Fremont and Ogden!

Symphony of Bird Calls: As I ventured deeper into the trail, a delightful cacophony of bird songs enveloped me. The Yellow Warbler, Chipping Sparrow, Western Tanager, and Black-Headed Grosbeak took center stage, performing their avian concert with gusto. How did I know who was who? Well, I whipped out my virtual maestro, the Merlin Bird ID app, which analyzed their melodious tunes and provided me with front-row seats to the avian symphony. I couldn’t help but imagine President Theodore Roosevelt himself tapping his foot to the beat, although I doubt he had access to such technology back then.

Tech Guides the Way: Amidst the lush scenery and melodious serenade, I realized that staying on track was crucial. Enter AllTrails, my digital hiking guru. With its comprehensive maps, trail descriptions, and weather updates, it kept me from getting lost and even warned me about the occasional lightning risks. AllTrails had my back, ensuring I wouldn’t end up as a character in a survival reality show. So, armed with my smartphone and a good sense of humor, I embraced the harmony of nature and tech.

Conclusion: The Dawn to Armstrong Trail is a testament to the beauty of nature, but it’s also a shining example of how technology can enhance our experiences. As I strolled along, Picture This transformed me into a wildflower expert, Merlin Bird ID made me a bird whisperer, and AllTrails guided me with the wisdom of a seasoned explorer. Who knew that 19th-century explorers and President Roosevelt could be upstaged by the likes of an app?

So, dear hiker, don’t hesitate to embrace the wonders of technology while immersing yourself in the wonders of the Dawn to Armstrong Trail. Let modern-day explorers like you use apps to become botanists, ornithologists, and expert navigators. Laugh, learn, and indulge in the perfect harmony between nature and tech as you create your own unforgettable adventure on this enchanting trail. Happy hiking!

Green-Wood unrolled in front of us as we entered the gates and passed the guardhouse on our left. Bucolic best describes the 478 acre land that was dotted with multiple bodies of water, fountains, trees, rolling lawns, massive gravestones and individual family mausoleums constructed with stone, glass and marble.  Breathtaking!  I briefly stopped at an information kiosk and learned that this South Brooklyn cemetery had been established in 1838 as a burial site for the burgeoning city in which it lies.. As an amateur student of history,  I was drawn to the celebrity names of the past promised in the self-guiding map provided.  For these departed individuals,  the splendor of the mausoleums and monuments of their burial sites broadcast their influence and importance in their past lives. 

 DeWitt Clinton, 6th governor of New York and father of the Erie Canal, is buried on a green covered hill with a life-sized statue of himself standing on an oversized marble sarcophagus. He gazes over all of Brooklyn with his left hand raised as if shielding himself  from the sun to better his view.  Commanding!  

 Boss William Tweed, head of the 19th century corrupt political machine known as Tammany Hall, was prominently interred on Battle Hill, a revered site at Green-wood cemetery because it was the site of George Washington’s battle with the British at the inception of the Revolutionary War.  A world class rogue and huckster, Tweed siphoned millions of dollars from construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park and the Courthouse in Downtown New York. 

Among the century old London Plane trees and Dogwoods lies Samuel Morse beneath a Greco-Roman inspired monument. The inventor of the telegraph, classical painter and Morse Code originator had a near perfect record until he advocated for slavery during the Civil War. 

While the glamor of the granite palaces marking the famous and infamous in death never failed to impress, I realized that the essence of humanity was to be found in the more modest gravesites. Thousands of small granite tombstones marked those who had served in the Civil War and the World Wars.  Rows and rows of tombstones lined the grassy knolls as if the stones were marching in a regimented formation. 

Fighting on opposite sides of the Civil War,  William and Clifton Prentiss were reunited after sustaining mortal wounds in the same battle and interred together in perpetuity at Green-Wood.

Louis Abel, an electrical engineer serving in the 112th Infantry was stationed behind enemy lines in France during World War I. He writes his brother a letter 13 days before his death:

My dear Brother Eugene:


As the war goes on and as I come out of each engagement still alive, I think often of those at home and wonder if I will ever see them again. You are all in my thoughts continually when I have time to think of other things besides the continual shellfire and fighting. My nerves have been sorely tried and many officers and men have lost out completely due to nervous strain making them useless. I sincerely hope all is well with you and yours. Love to all and may God who watches over us all bring us together again.

Lovingly your brother, Louis

Charlotte,  a 17 year old girl on the verge of becoming a married woman, was accidentally killed in a carriage accident in 1844.  She is interred next to her fiance who took his life in complete and utter grief over her unexpected death.   Do-Hum-Me, an 18 year old Sac and Fox Nation Indian woman,  was brought to the East in 1843 from her native lands in Iowa by her father to negotiate treaties with the federal government. She was hired by P.T. Barnum to perform Indian war dances in his New York theater. Without resistance to Western disease, Do-Hum-Me fell ill and died of an infectious disease. P.T. Barnum was so distraught he paid for her burial and tombstone.  Two women,  ill-fated for early deaths and thus virtually unknown during their lives, have become well-known and are frequently visited gravesites at Green-wood.  

The sky darkens and a late October rain begins to fall.  My wife and I open our umbrellas and prepare to depart the cemetery.  We are headed back to the subway to return to Manhattan. We cannot help but to reflect on the beauty of the cemetery and the lessons it has taught us: it is the quiet lives of so many who are unsung in the world that reach out to us in the most unexpected places that remind us the importance and beauty of every life. 

We were going to the edge of civilization, as the Romans had defined it circa 2000 years ago. The Rhine and Danube were the North and Eastern boundaries of the empire, warding off the barbarians, the Goths, Vandals, Visigoths and Franks. The Franks had plundered Eastern and Western Europe, united under Charlemagne and eventually (?with the help of intermarriage and French wine) settled down in France so their ancestors could appreciate fine architecture, food and Jerry Lewis.

 The tragedies of history were retold by guides, museums and historical plaques as the craft dodged buoys and passed feudal castles. In Amsterdam, Cologne, Regensburg, Vienna, Rothenburg, Bratislava and Budapest were military monuments, holocaust memorials, mass graves, ramparts and moats, museum artifacts, artillery and ballistic impacts on stone walls that testified to perpetual war and oppression from the Middle Ages onward. The grievances are engraved in our schoolbooks: Romans v. Barbarians, Christians v. Arabs (Crusades 1-4), Protestants v. Catholics (30 Years War and others), Ottoman Empire v. “Civilized” Europe, Habsburgs v. National Uprisings in the mid nineteenth Century, Prussian Wars of the late 19th century.  The 20th century brought us World Wars I and II ending the Holy Roman and Ottoman Empires and Hitler and the Third Reich at the expense of over 60 million lives.

As we headed South and East along the Rivers, I encountered glimpses of my Jewish heritage. The Jewish Diaspora from antiquity forced migration from Western to Eastern Europe along the Rhine and Danube. Jews were  multilingual merchants, bridging the Arab and European divide and helping to create the trade routes from Asia, Africa and Europe. They were artisans in the pre-industrial world and creators of the financial world that allowed the development of city-states. Judaism financed the release of Richard the Lion Hearted of England’s release from captivity and paid for the defense of Vienna against Ottoman Invasion in the 17th century. Yet, each town’s history was marked by the same recurring theme: Jewish expulsion and persecution.

Tragedy often begets opportunity. Science, medicine and art blossomed along these European river tributaries. Booerhaave, the Dutch physician, organized hospital divisions, defined pathology and described his eponymous esophageal rupture syndrome. Dicke, an Amsterdam physician, recognized  abdominal pain and diarrhea in Dutch children reintroduced to bread following privations of World War II and described celiac disease. Down the Rhine at Erlangen, Germany, Demling and Classen devised a modified electrified wire passed through an endoscope and allowed non surgical removal of bile duct stones in a jaundiced nurse in 1973, introducing therapeutic biliary endoscopy to the world. Wilhelm Conrad Rontgen, discoverer of X rays, taught on the Mein River at Wurzburg in the late 19th century. Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis treatise and practice was a part of 1890’s Vienna. Laszlo Biro from Budapest, invented the ballpoint pen and freed the world from fountain pen leakage.

Music flourished along the river, providing the world with the classics from Mahler, Mozart, Beethoven and Liszt.

 History was infused in everything we saw and consumed. I ate herring in Amsterdam as the Dutch West India Company sailors did before traveling to Nieuw Amsterdam and quaffed Riesling from The Rhine Valley from Middle Age monastery vineyards. A McDonalds and statues of Ronald Reagan and George Bush in Budapest were symbols of who won the Cold War. 

The realities of the past portend the fragility of peace for the future. The murmurs from these ancient rivers give us pause to respect and cherish our freedoms.