Chip Filson
Walking along 5th Avenue in NYC several weeks ago, I stopped at a store that had a roped line to enter. Joan and I thought it must be a restaurant or a nightclub.
We decided to find out what twas going on. It turned out to be a recently opened Lego store. Here is some of what we saw.
A New York City Taxi
The Statue of Liberty
A Lego tree in the main showroom.
A life size jolly green giant:.
Back to the real world. The Zamboni cleaning the ice at the Rockefeller Center skating rink.:
Walking into a detention center is a surreal experience. You hand in your driver’s license, sign paperwork, lock your belongings in a locker and pass through a metal detector with your shoes off.
No cell phone, no identification, no wallet.
My heart beat fast as we were escorted through the locked metal doors and waited to be let onto the unit where we would meet with the detainees one at a time in a small airless room.
The names, faces and stories of the people we met over the course of several days- 10 people in all- are deeply etched into my heart. This was a rare opportunity to accompany an immigration lawyer and his team as we visited two centers, one in Massachusetts and RI. We saw first-hand what conditions are like and listened to the stories of those suffering in detention…
As you can imagine, a detention center is a haunting place devoid of warmth and humanity. It seems to me it is the loneliest place in the world. It opened my eyes to just how terrible the reality of what the Administration’s policies and practices have led to…innocent people being locked away.
Families destroyed.
Human rights trampled.
Trauma inflicted over and over again.
The “Industrial Detention Complex” is in effect a harsh landscape of prison “camps” that house hundreds of people -most of them people of color -locked away in buildings wrapped in fencing and barbed wire up to the sky.
While the two places we saw were clean enough, the structures are cold and sterile looking, made of cement blocks, filled with harsh lighting that is on 24/7, few windows, endless hallways and heavy, locked doors.
The clanging of keys and the shutting of iron gates is the sound that remains with me.
I found out that the people we met with who are held for days or months are granted no privileges-unlike other prisoners who can take classes, etc. Folks are held in their cells-which are cages really for 23 hours a day. Maybe they get outside briefly, probably they don’t. There are no programs or classes or activities for them.
One man we met mentioned his idea of starting a group teaching others how to speak English. Our lawyer was encouraging him to do that… this activity would give him something meaningful to do and help others…
Health care, we learned, is abominable or largely non-existent. Receiving medication takes a lawyer’s advocacy and it might be weeks before one can get any lifesaving medicine for diabetes or HIV or blood pressure.
I remember sitting next to one person named Jose (not his real name) as he told his story and added that detainees aren’t allowed to receive any mail. Oftentimes the internet is down or the phones aren’t working. Jose missed his family; his kids and he started to cry when he saw the sticky note the paralegal had written after visiting his wife the week before. Even though it wasn’t his wife’s handwriting, the man held it like it was a piece of gold. It said, “We miss you; we love you.” . . .
During these meetings, we did our best to bring some humanity in with us. Smiling to guards, saying thank you, introducing ourselves, learning their names. The guards seemed friendly enough.
Our lawyer asked questions about the person’s story, their early life, how they came to this country, what they did for work now, who was in their family and considerations for possible strategies for attaining bond and release.
Everyone’s stories were complicated. Of the 10 people we met, all of them were men, fathers, partners- most had fled dangerous conditions in their home countries, crossed the border, asked for asylum, had painful family fractures and hardships. Some had been in this country for decades or just a few years.
One was still a teenager; another was a grandfather. Still another, a DACA recipient.
I tried to be as present as possible. To offer whatever small kindness I could and to listen with care to the person in front of me as we gathered around a small table and sat in plastic chairs. Sometimes, after the interview with the lawyer, I was able to offer a kind word or a prayer. Or to put a gentle hand on a shoulder when the sobs came.
While our paralegal translated, I prayed,
Dear God, Dios Mio,
May this person be safe, May this person be released soon. May this person know how beloved they are of you and their family. Oh God. Help us! Gracias, Amen.
My meager gestures felt woefully inadequate (compared to the enormity of the fear and uncertainty of what each person was facing every minute of every day.)
One man, when presented with the reality of imminent deportation to a country he’d never been to before, hung his head in his hands and cried, “How can I go there? I don’t know anyone there?”
Often, without notice, detainees can be whisked out of New England to detention somewhere down South sent even farther away from family and connection. Where are the women? I asked. Apparently, they are sent “elsewhere” perhaps to Louisiana or Texas. If they don’t have legal counsel, locating them can be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
When our time with each person drew to a close, we shook hands, sometimes hugged and a guard escorted them down the hallway. Before returning to their cells, a further humiliation awaited them- a strip search behind a makeshift curtain.
Were they being penalized for seeing their lawyer? It sure looked that way!
Believe it or not, immigration I learned is a civil matter not a criminal one. Let me say that again: immigration is a civil matter not a criminal one. The thousands who have been imprisoned and deported have been convicted of no crime. And even those who have entered illegally, the law classifies this as a civil matter, a “misdemeanor.”
Journalist Jamelle Bouie wrote recently, “Immigration detention is not a criminal procedure. And yet the Trump administration is treating it as a criminal punishment. It is using detention to inflict pain on anyone — immigrant or citizen — caught in its grasp. It is subjecting detainees to horrific conditions of deprivation and abuse, meant to pressure people into leaving the country, even if they have valid asylum claims or even legal status. And the administration is trying to expand its system of internment camps, purchasing warehouses across the country meant to hold tens of thousands of people”[1]
At the end of one very long day of visits, having been inside for 5 hours, we walked out the doors to the fading sky at twilight. The pink horizon softening my ragged heart and I filled my lungs with deep breaths of air.
It hit me, the relief and the privilege of being free. Right across the street from the Detention Center was a Home Depot, a Panera and new apartment buildings. I wondered if all of those people sitting in their cars in traffic had any idea what inhumanity was taking place behind those front gates?
On the long drive home, I recalled how all of the people we met were Black or Brown folks. People of color who on this particular day were from Central America, Mexico and Haiti. . .
In this season of Lent . . .one holy question to ask ourselves is how are we resisting the dangerous, false narratives of immigrants that have been presented to us and instead see and uplift the humanity and rights of individuals? . . .
It is comforting to know that we as a church community are trying everything we can to support those caught up in the midst of this Super Storm of Inhumanity. That we are learning from what communities in Minneapolis have done to support those most vulnerable.
We are in the right place as we meet this moment together!
Bearing witness to one another’s stories and lives. . .
Bearing witness to the truth of the injustices our neighbors are facing by standing up in the public square in the pouring rain. . .
How have you borne witness to the life of another? What might Love say to each of us as we try to find our way through the stormy wilderness?
Let us keep going over to the other side, my friends.
Love shall prevail . . .
Yesterday’s scripture reading was from the Sermon on the Mount. The lesson includes Jesus’s multiple teachings (Beatitudes) beginning with Blessed are the meek. . . Blessed are the poor in spirit….
On the sign in front of the church, the sermon title was Blessed are Those Blowing Whistles.
Individuals are doing more than making noise. People are recording and publishing videos, interviews and pictures of federal troop immigration occupations-and the resulting abuses and cruelties -in towns and cities across the country.
The people have become the press, taking their first amendment rights of freedom of speech seriously. They have used virtual channels and networks to post their stories and pictures. It reminds one of the pamphleteers during the Revolutionary War.
But citizen journalism is not limited to tracking immigration abuses. Individuals are finding ways to raise concerns about their credit unions.
I am a three decade member of XYZ Credit Union. I was shocked by the proposed merger with YYY which was sprung on our community and membership without warning or advance notice.
I attended the annual membership meeting and there was zero mention of this. The Board of Directors has acted in secrecy and this sellout is now presented as a done deal.
These kinds of deep worry are sent to my blog address two or three times per month. Sometimes the opening will begin: As a former employee and long-time member of XXX I am deeply concerned about . . .
These members want to know how to amplify their voice. And that is the first goal of the member-journalist, to make their concerns public and bring transparency to situations.
Several CEO’s even embrace these individual voices. One publishes Net Promoter Score comments in the monthly staff update, but not just the 9 and 10 ratings, also the 4s and 5s which are often complaints about a service, policy or member disappointment.
The credit union press primarily relies on the publicity releases of the industry. Rare are the occasions for member comment except when picked up from a news story. Or very occasionally from member comments opposing mergers.
Both credit union media as well as the public press rarely have the resources to pursue individual cases of self-dealing orworse.
In a democracy, and especially in organizations claiming to be governed by their members, they will find ways to speak out. It is the American way. And ultimately it will lead to organized opposition should their concerns be ignored.
With the emergence of local digital media, these stories are now receiving greater coverage. Here is an example from the Baltimore Banner, an online non-profit news source for the greater Baltimore community.
Project Salt Box: How citizen sleuths are monitoring ICE in Maryland
First they unearthed U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement contracts for 42,000 ready-to-eat meals coming to Maryland.
Then they built a data map of how the federal Department of Homeland Security was distributing its funding.
Last week, two-month-old Project Salt Box and its seven-person team revealed what some say is a sign that an ICE surge could be coming to the state.
The group, which works to unearth and explain the public documents behind federal immigration enforcement, was the first to report on Tuesday that DHS had purchased a warehouse near Hagerstown. In correspondence with Washington County officials, federal officials described how they could retrofit the space to become an immigration detention facility. . . .
The American citizenry is finding its voice. It will not wait for elections. Rather it will seek to change leaders’ behaviors now.
Credit unions were nurtured in the grassroots of local activism. They found sponsor support to create new collaborative options for their community.
This latent activism is just below the surface. In the transfer of hundreds of millions of member equity and billions of assets to third party control, their voices will rise. And they should.
Blessed are those cooperators who use whistles of words to rouse their fellow members to stand for economic justice for all. Future generations will honor them.
Last three nights the low temperature was in single digits: 6 degrees. High during daytime is in mid 20’s. No melt at all.
Schools still closed. Roads open but too cold for kids to walk to school.
Potomac started to freeze. So you want to be careful about using the phrase, “Until hell freezes over”-it could happen.
Ice on snow, hard as iron. Only way in or out. Even mailman missed two days.
A Japaese snow lantern in its true setting.
Roads open, but snow on sides will be there for weeks. Solid ice.
A local ice fort. Note how walls have been made like stone slabs.
Cleaning walks and porches is a three person effort. Snow blowers no good on ice packed snow. Use dirt shovels. spades and even pick axes. Normal snow shovels not strong enough, laying on ground.
Essential work.
No tennis today. Have to go to Florida.
Plant covers could save some bushes and flowers.
But power is still on in area. Just need more hot air.
Here’s the link.
2. Explosion of new banking applications at OCC.
This BankingDive article says the eighteen new charter applications in 2025 exceeds the total of the prior four years.
Applicants include Nissan and PayPal for industrial bank charters, the license that Thrivent FCU converted to in 2025. (link)
Other applicants include fintechs such as checkout.com. Six applicants have received conditional approval.
The article includes this quote from the OCC head:
Gould has said the influx is “a return to the norm” for the agency, and that it “signals healthy competition, a commitment to innovation, and should be encouraging to all of us.”
3. Tired of News about Greenland’s Future?
Here is an AI generated video about the Greenland’s territorial defense force that should put to rest all US concerns. Composed by some cheeky Irish balladeers.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOpymCZ0PAU)
Have a productive weekend watching or shoveling the fluffy white stuff.
American democracy has a unique capacity for creating and then honoring martyrs for its freedoms. This weekend we celebrate one person who gave his life for our professed ideals.
This vigil honors a current person’s sacrifice. It is a community gathering to remember a woman who also believed in America’s promise.
One of America’s most powerful patriotic anthems was written by a woman Julia Ward Howe in 1861.
For the persons gathering above, they will sing, as she died to make us holy, let us live to make all free.
Renee Good’s truth will cause millions to march on.
A mother of three.
Went on a christian mission to another country.
Stood up for her neighbors with whistles.
Was shot three times by a federal government employee, gun in one hand, cell phone in the other.
She made herself vulnerable to protect the vulnerable.
A presbyterian who followed her conscience with faith.
In death, she inspires hope and conviction in us.
Power cannot silence her witness.
Her name will call forth the best that America represents.
And the ideals that its citizens will sometimes die for. Unasked and never forgotten.
She was indeed good.
One of the joys of the holiday season is receiving cards and messages from friends near and far.
These life updates tell of the many family ups and downs of our generation. Occasionally they include special words of insight.
The following is an annual poem created by husband Joe for his wife Zuki. It reflects on the traditional effort to find just the right Christmas present, which is the same theme in O Henry’s short story The Gift of the Magi.
The final stanza honors the most important gift we have, which is each other.
by Joe McLaughlin
I gave you a walking stick
Like the one you used to own,
And you gave me two turtlenecks
Like the ones that I’ve outgrown.
And so our Christmas gifts this year
Were ones each knew the other needed
Not new additions to our store
But useful ones that we’ve repeated.
O’Henry’s lovers’ gifts were rare
But useless, which was their surprise.
Though they were young, they learned that year
How foolish love confounds the wise.
Our useful gifts are small but add
To what we can’t have too much of,
For years behind and years ahead,
Reminders of our life-long love.
Christmas Day, 2025
How some observors are thinking about this year’s priorities. And how these ideas may influence credit unions.
I am longing for a community built on shared purpose and effort.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hiRsApI2Zxg)
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWV2lr-xT-M)
[The] strategic capital built over decades is now being squandered. And in the long run, an America (read credit unions) that behaves like an utterly self-interested predator on the world stage (in the coop system) will not grow stronger; it will grow lonelier.
Allies will hedge. Partners will search for options. Neutrals will inch away. And the rebalancing that history predicted all along may finally arrive — not because America (credit unions) became weak, but because it (they)forgot the real source of its (their) strength.
Dangerous Memories, Royal Consciousness, and Galactic Empires
This is the 12th day after Christmas. In the Christian tradition this is the moment the three Wise Men came to the baby Jesus with their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh,
Only Matthew of the four gospels has this story. Most of the details are from tradition and not the Bible.
This spare account has given rise to numerous theological interpretations. A traditional one is that this event first signifies that the Jesus’ life was for the entire world not just the Jewish community.
The central action is kneeling to present the Wise Men’s gifts. And many commentaries about this passage discuss how difficult and yet important is offering the proper gift to a person or for a special occasion.
O. Henry’s short story, The Gift of the Magi, is an insightful interpretation of rhe meaning of gifts. It tells how a young couple, living in want, try to find the perfect present for each other at Christmas. The woman sells her waist long long hair to a whig store to have enough money to purchase a fob chain for her husband’s family pocket watch. He in turn sells his watch to buy special combs for her long, beautiful hair.
There is nothing in O. Henry’s account of kings or mangers or gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Rather it portrays love’s selfless giving for another person.
A more frequent use of the word epiphany is a sudden insight, an awakening or unexpected moment of meaning.
The world today overwhelms many beit from the personal to the national or even global events. Many are uncertain how to live what some might call our authentic selves. That is a sense of purpose or meaning or accomplishment that gets us out of bed each morning. How can I make a difference?
Everyone seeks to enhance their role in life just as the Shepard boy in the Christmas chorale asks, What gift can I give him poor as I am?
O. Henry’s story suggests this desire is not about material accomplishments, although that is often our first response.
Recently at the intermission in a live holiday stage musical, I heard the following conversation between persons sitting next to me. One was a young man out of college, the second his grandpa. The conversation went something like this: S: grandson; G: Grandpa
S: I have signed up for a bone marrow donation in a couple of weeks.
G: Isn’t that painful?
S: They will drill two holes in my hip bones to extract the marrow. But they give you anesthetic the whole time.
G: How did you get called for this?
S: When we donated blood on a drive last spring in college, they asked if we wanted to be a donor, and I checked yes. Then I was called they had found a match.
G: Do you know anything about the patient? What is the disease?
S: I know she is 16 has a cancer called aplastic anemia.
G: Will you get to meet her?
S: If everything goes OK, I could see her in about a year.
The second half of the play began, ending the talk.
This conversation gave me a feeling of great hope. Here is young person starting out in life and career, giving the gift of life to someone he does not know.
This brief event was an unexpected, almost liminal experience. These two youngsters have discovered a way of living and giving that many need the entire arc of life to learn. With character like this, our future is in good hands.