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I cringe when people use the expression "fake news," because I know how hard the journalists I know work to report the full, unbiased truth. But on this day — November 12, the commemoration of the signing of the Canandaigua Treaty — I was reminded that even generations ago, the "truth" can be subjective, and almost always relative. No one can know the whole story about anything or anyone. We only the know the answers to the questions we've asked.  The wrongs that were done, the blood that was shed and the future that was lost could never be made right, but the 1794 Treaty took a step toward peace.  I know I'll never look at George Washington the same way again —he'll be part president, part  Conotocaurius , destroyer or devourer of towns. And as for  Peter Jemison  and the people connected with  Ganondagan , my respect continues to deepen. Thank you, Grand Council of the Six Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy, Colonel Timothy Pickering and early Farmin

It was all the names that did me in. Sunday's Light [the] Hill luminaria "celebration of hope" at Kershaw Park was so much more impactful than I could had imagined.  More than beautiful, more than sacred, more than a peaceful walk along the lake . The half-mile stretch of 900 lights — each with a name carefully handwritten — was a silent testimony of lifetimes of love, family, hard work, service, personality and story. I was awed in the presence of a ll that living, all that dying, and all those precious relationships.   When my dad passed last June, I knew it would take months for the reality to sink in. And it's starting to, a little, which is why it was so easy to appreciate the depth and breadth of the love that families were experiencing as they walked the length of the park, reading their loved  ones' names. It felt good to smile and remember without doubling over in pain. It felt good to cry quiet, healing tears.  So thank you, 900 luminarias and Ligh