I am the descendant of undocumented immigrants. My ancestors came here first as refugees from the Thirty Years’ War, in 1632, and last as refugees from the German revolutions of the mid-19th century.

My great-great grandfather closed his Vermont school and marched off with two of his older students to answer Lincoln’s call for volunteers, and led his company of the 9th Vermont over the rebel defenses in the fall of Richmond. My father put his Ph.D. dissertation on a shelf to die flying night photo-recon missions against the Nazis. He’s buried in one of those Normandy graveyards where Trump ridiculed the fallen American servicemen.

This Trump character would embarrass a maggot under the seat in an outhouse. My first suggestion would be to trade him to cannibals for his weight in coconuts, but I doubt that any cannibals, if they still exist, would want a gobbet of Trump. Perhaps there are omnivorous critters in the Gulf of Maine that would eat his remains — if they were first run through a log-chipper and then sterilized.

William Burgess Leavenworth, Ph.D.
Searsmont