Larry Morgan

In just a few short years, we have witnessed a pattern too dark to dismiss:
• The plot to kidnap Governor Gretchen Whitmer.
• The storming of the Capitol, with pipe bombs planted at the RNC and DNC.
• The break-in to kidnap Nancy Pelosi and the brutal attack on Paul Pelosi.
• Multiple assassination attempts against Donald Trump.
• The assassination of Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, and the shooting of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife.
• The killing of Brian Thompson by Luigi Mangione.
• The assassination of Charlie Kirk.

Political violence is contagious. It spreads like fire in dry grass. It is not confined to one party, one ideology, or one belief system. And it should terrify us all.

The foundation of a free society is not agreement—it is the ability to participate in public life without fear of violence. Every act of political violence, no matter against whom it is directed, is an attack on us all. To ignore that truth is to blind ourselves.

Life is precious. Fleeting. Fragile.

Tonight, as I step away for some much-needed rest, I’m reminded of the old ballad One Tin Soldier. Written as an anti-war song in the 1970s, it tells of the Mountain People, who hold a treasure, and the Valley People, who come to claim it. The Mountain People offer to share, but the Valley People demand it all. In the end, they slaughter the Mountain People, only to discover the “treasure” was nothing more than a stone carved with the words peace on earth.

The treasure we are destroying each other for is as hollow as that rock.

Another era had its own warnings. Lincoln, standing on the edge of civil war, pleaded with his countrymen: “We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

We have lost that music. The chords are quiet now, drowned out by anger, tribalism, and suspicion. But they are not gone.

In closing, let me say this as plainly as I know how: you cannot fully love this country if you hate half the people in it.

If we do not change course, our future will be written not in triumph but in tragedy. The song will end, but not as we had hoped—just one tin soldier, riding away.

This is a loss not only for Oregon, but also for those of us who still believe that local government and institutions matter.

Mayor Lueb has been more than a great mayor—she has been a devoted mother, wife, and friend to many. She will be deeply missed.

I’ve had the privilege of getting to know her firsthand, and I can say without hesitation that her leadership, her courage, and her humanity have left an indelible mark. She has represented her city with pride, elevated Tigard’s voice regionally and nationally, and fought tirelessly for the values of accessibility, accountability, and community.

Public service at this level comes with a heavy toll, often unseen. It demands more than most people will ever know, and she carried it with strength and integrity.

We should honor her decision to step back as much as we honor the years she stepped forward on behalf of her community. Thank you, Mayor Lueb, for reminding us that local leadership still matters, and for giving so much of yourself in the service of others.

Big Endorsement

Tonight, I received word that the Full-Time Faculty Association at Mt. Hood Community College unanimously voted to endorse my candidacy for the MHCC Board.

I’m incredibly honored to have earned their support and deeply grateful for the trust they’ve placed in me. Our faculty are the backbone of Mt. Hood, shaping futures and expanding opportunities for students across our greater community. I look forward to working alongside them to ensure MHCC continues to be a place of access, excellence, and opportunity for all.

Onward!