I was born in Chicago, grew up in the suburbs and went to Notre Dame for undergraduate and law school. I completed a fellowship at Harvard University, and thought I know a thing or two about life. Like everyone, I had some great joys and some great heartbreaks. I practiced law, served in the Clinton administration, private equity, blah blah. I also have nothing short of an incredible daughter. I will spare you my heartbreaks.
My heroes growing up were baseball players, Bobby Kennedy and assorted rock stars.
A new chapter in my life was driven by a sense of regret of not going in the Peace Corps, or something like that. So, I received an appointment as a visiting professor at the Lebanese American University in Beirut, where I thought I could make a difference.
I was immediately struck by the maturity of the students and their awareness of the global politics around them. This generation came of age during a civil war, COVID-19 and a bomb explosion equal to a nuclear blast. Then the war started.
Can an American parent fathom sending their children to school every day in the middle of a war taking place in their city? Would American students attend classes when you hear bombs dropping during a class? I now know what courage and faith means.
Of course, everyone is scared; no one wants to die. But the spirit of the Lebanese people is something to behold. When every logical part of their brain says, "we had enough" or "it’s time to leave" something else kicks in that you can actually feel: "The only thing I want is a better future for my children." So in that mindset, parents send their children to school, the kids show up, the professors teach, and everyone keeps focused on a future that definitely is not certain to be better.
I grew up where we did not deal with a war in our neighborhood. Wars were something that happened outside of our boundaries. Don’t get me wrong, I love my country. But what I see every day in Beirut is something different. Wanting a better life an
