On January 20, 2025, Donald Trump kicked off his second term as President of the United States with a whirlwind of executive orders and national emergencies. It was a day filled with promises of a flourishing country and renewed respect on the global stage.
As I lay in bed the next morning, scrolling through the news on my phone, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. The executive orders ranged from pardons to the establishment of new government departments, and the declaration of multiple national emergencies. The world was changing, and not necessarily for the better.
In an attempt to escape the chaos unfolding around me, I turned to my collection of Penguin Little Black Classics. These tiny books, filled with stories and poems from centuries past, offered a brief respite from the turmoil of the present day. Each page turned felt like a step back in time, a moment of peace in the midst of a storm.
But as the days passed and Trump’s presidency continued to unfold, the sense of emergency only grew. Executive orders piled up, national emergencies were declared left and right, and the very fabric of American democracy seemed to be unraveling before my eyes. The President’s power seemed unchecked, his actions driven by malice and revenge rather than a genuine desire to serve the country.
As I read through the stories of Giovanni Boccaccio, Aesop, and Walt Whitman, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of despair. The world around me was crumbling, and there seemed to be no end in sight. The emergency Presidency was taking its toll, and I found myself questioning the very foundations of our democracy.
But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope. Harvard’s defiance of Trump’s demands, protesters rallying across the country, and Democrats pushing back against the Administration’s overreach all pointed to a resilience that still existed within the American people. As I read through the words of poets and philosophers long gone, I found solace in the knowledge that, no matter how dark the days may seem, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
And so, on the hundredth day of Trump’s second term, as I sit down with Whitman’s poems in hand, I am reminded that today, and America, are exactly what they must be. Despite the emergencies and the chaos, there is still hope for a better tomorrow. As I close the book and look out at the world around me, I know that, no matter what challenges may come our way, we will always find a way to rise above them.
