By Bob Rosenberg

Having been raised within five miles of the U.S. Capitol, the Federal Center in Washington D.C. is familiar ground.

It was special to grow up going to the Capitol steps for the Fourth of July celebratory fireworks; to stroll the Tidal Basin on a warm, spring evening inhaling the perfume of the cherry blossoms; or even to climb the hundreds of steps in the Washington Monument. But, for me, none of the sights compared to the Lincoln Memorial.

Walking up the steps below the colonnade surrounding the statue of former President Abraham Lincoln was always awesome. Taking the time to reread the Gettysburg Address, something that I and millions of other youths memorized, including my grandson, connected us to the unfinished business that is America.

The words near the conclusion of Lincoln’s second inaugural address are immortal: “With malice toward none with charity for all.” Lincoln’s thoughts are as fitting today as they were then.

I recall sitting on the steps, enjoying the evening lights of the Reflecting Pool below, past the Lincoln Memorial, the Smithsonian Castle (where my mother worked), and on toward the Capitol. It stirs emotions of gratitude in this second-generation American. How fortunate to be a citizen of this great country when a few short years prior, those who worshiped like me were eliminated in the Holocaust.

I considered the promise of America unbounded and I was grateful for that. Yet, even back then growing up as a White male in the District of Columbia, it was obvious that the promise of opportunity was not available equally. For example, although our schools were integrated in 1954 after Brown v. Board of Education, racism still prevailed. The creation of a “track system” allowed administrators to continue to separate students of differing colors, creating de facto segregation.

Back then, the Lincoln steps were the place for inspiration as well as an inexpensive date. Those steps were a reminder that although it had been a century since the Civil War, the advancement of formerly enslaved people and their successors came in grudgingly conferred fits and starts. We gathered chanting “We shall overcome” and sat in front of the White House pressuring President Lyndon B. Johnson to advance civil rights legislation. The hope was to slowly unearth a bit more of “the American promise.”

The women’s liberation movement, Roe v. Wade, the advancement of gay rights and the freedom to marry regardless of gender have been incremental steps in fulfilling that promise. Are things better than in 1789 when only White, land-owning males were able to vote? Better than in 1863 with the Emancipation Proclamation? Better than the passage of the 19th Amendment delivering the vote to women? Better than the 1965 passage of Civil Rights legislation?

Yes, but we still have a long way to go to fully deliver on the promise.

Now, however, there has been a setback since President Donald Trump took office for the second time. Sitting on the steps in April 2025, I feel the betrayal of the promise. Among those I know in Washington, there is a palpable unease coupled with real fear of unemployment for thousands of hardworking, dedicated civil servants. Trump’s agenda appears to be a monumental step backward, making the promise even farther from many Americans and those seeking to become so. It seems that unnecessary cruelty is the hallmark of Trump’s policies.

If the goal is to make the rich richer and leave the less fortunate millions struggling, I say we tried that about a century ago. The Gilded Age worked for some but not for most hardworking folks.

The notion that corporate oligarchs have all the answers and that their successes will dribble down to the rest has been disproven.

Having returned to my adopted California, I can’t help but reflect on my recent return visit to the Lincoln Memorial and the steps. Looking out over that familiar landscape of promise, I think Lincoln would have shared my sadness. Looking over my shoulder, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him shedding a tear.

Bob Rosenberg, of Kentfield, is a volunteer at Davidson Middle School in San Rafael and former board chair for the Marin County School Volunteers.