Bridging The Distance Between Our Stories
On one trip, a man named Elvis took us to see Mt. Rushmore. As we all stood there at the base of the mountain, in awe of this symbol of our country, Elvis, who was quick with an easy smile and a humorous anecdote, casually said: “Imagine there was a statue of the man who raped your mother in your living room. Imagine you were forced to carve it.” He looked at us, we looked at him....