As we close out 2024, I find myself staring at a blank screen, trying to make sense of a year that felt both chaotic and eerily familiar.
China, Russia, Iran— these words feel less like geopolitical entities and more like specters looming over every news cycle. Donald Trump, a convicted felon, is set to return to the presidency. The Menéndez brothers got a Netflix special, and now their case is under review. It’s hard not to feel like the world is running in loops, each spin pulling us further from clarity, responsibility, and reason.
Our country feels sick, and I don’t think I’m alone in saying that. There’s a weariness in our collective soul, an exhaustion from constantly being asked to process crises at breakneck speed while still showing up for our families, our jobs, and ourselves.
It’s not just a national problem—it’s right here in New Mexico too. Santa Fe, a city once celebrated for its culture and art, feels increasingly lost in a haze of drugs and crime. And then there’s the Alec Baldwin case. Whether you believe it was an accident or something more, one thing feels undeniable: money, fame, and power continue to bend the scales of justice.
But it’s not just about famous actors or political theater. The consequences of these imbalances trickle down. They affect our communities, our trust in institutions, and our faith in each other.
And yet, despite all of this, I’m holding on to something fragile but persistent: hope.
Hope that 2025 will bring an end to the war in Ukraine and that peace will not come at the cost of justice. Hope that democracy will endure despite the pressures from within and without. Hope that the rising authoritarian shadows across the globe—whether in Beijing or elsewhere—will not eclipse the light of freedom.
But hope can’t be passive. It demands something from us. It demands that we stop being complacent, that we stop cowering to power—whether in Santa Fe or Washington or right here in Cibola County.
Fair representation across all districts shouldn’t be a lofty ideal; it should be the baseline of our governance. We need leaders who listen, who act with integrity, and who put people—not power plays—first.
Be safe. Don’t drink and drive. Look out for your neighbors. And let’s all step into 2025 with a shared commitment to making our communities— our homes—better. Because after everything we’ve been through since 2020, I think we all deserve a little peace, a little progress, and a little hope.
Here’s to 2025. May it be kinder, clearer, and more just.