PROVIDENCE – I find myself at a loss for words, a rare occasion for me. I find it difficult to follow the blather and the bluster that calls itself the “news” these days. We have all become witnesses to the apparent self-destruction of the American democratic republic, unless we can intervene and have the courage to say, “No!”

Somehow, it seems that President Trump now wants to arrest people who criticize him, particularly Attorneys General, no matter how well founded their critiques of his illegal actions are. The corporate clowns that Trump has surrounded himself with are more than willing to follow his marching orders, unless we are all willing to stand up and say, “No way!”

The rapid decline of Trump’s mental and physical health is on full frontal display; do we see it as a reflection of ourselves, facing our own decline as a nation? Perhaps Trump should call 988, the national hotline, if he is fearful about his own impending death. If Trump were visiting Rhode Island, he could call Rhode Island’s own hotline for behavioral health problems — and have his call answered within a few seconds, the best response time in the nation. And, if his problem required immediate assistance, a mobile response team could be dispatched.

The truth is that all families, big and small, are happy or unhappy in their own ways. There is no guarantee that the problems that each one of our families face — or, for that matter, that the President’s family faces — can be easily resolved. But talking about the problems can help – we can begin to have the conversation, and ask: “How are you feeling?”

There is no magic cure or prescription that can remedy the pain that we all feel in our daily struggles to survive. It is not an easy task to change the way we are and the way we want to be, unless we are willing to stand together and say, as neighbors, “We are happy you’re here with us.”

What it requires is a belief in resilience, a hope that by sharing our deep-felt fears and loves, we can survive as a community, living together as neighbors, to believe again in our shared humanity – through acts of kindness, not cruelty.

My fingers are increasingly growing numb; my legs are uncertain about where my next steps will take me. I find myself remembering going fishing for trout one September morning, lost in the mists of a stream actually named the Saw Mill River – and catching a 20-inch brookie, then frying it up in a big cast-iron pan, with my companion singing a Taj Mahal blues ditty, “Any fish will bite if you got good bait,” her voice capturing the warmth and sizzle of everything that is important in life: a shared connectivity of the ways that our lives can intersect.

As difficult as our lives are these days [and, yes, as difficult as my life has become], as disrupted as our politics are becoming, the connections that drive us forward toward survival are truly remarkable. I trust in our ability to find a way forward. Call it serendipity.

Let us remember the goodness that we can find in each other’s words and the warmth we can rekindle in each other’s arms. And, hum a little tune in each other’s ears, where the words don’t matter as much as the emotions they carry, the sense of belonging, a resonance where our lives converge. “Here’s a little story that I would like to relate…”