Trump stole my mother.

In 2017 she did not come to my wedding wedding wedding in Baltimore. This year, he didn't come to my graduation ceremony. My Facebook messages remain unanswered. It seems that he read them after six months ago I received a package containing all the pictures of my childhood and his grades of elementary school with all the gifts I had given him over the last two decades. The box contains no note.

What did I do to deserve such punishment? I yelled at him for giving Trump his vote.

I mentioned I was a student, didn't I? I specifically study American companies and their relationship with Nazi Germany and the Holocaust. When my mother and I were still talking, I would tell them about the implications of my research. I would explain to them the dangers of racist populism, demagogia, corporate corruption, things that would lead America to a destructive course that Europe once walked. I knew you were watching Fox News. I had no illusion that she would receive accurate information elsewhere, but at least she could get a better perspective from her son.

When 2015 came, I began to feel angry by racist predators who supported Trump. Twitter is not a healthy place for many groups of people, including Jews like me, who become loud to the Holocaust. I sent him to him for harassment by Trump racists. They sent my swastika and pictures to my gas room, “When Trump picks, you're finished,” posted them on Twitter.

My mother did not observe them, but she was raised by an aunt and a Jewish uncle. I thought that if the reasonable historical perspective did not change his mind, then perhaps direct threats to his son would do so. She would express concern for me personally, but would ignore my demands not to support a candidate who had inspired them.

Not long after the 2016 elections, my mother informed me that she had voted for Trump. I blew up. I told him he had eaten up the love of ignorant and fanatics. I immediately regretted that I had broken out. As I was very sad, frustrated with what lay ahead of America, I emailed Mother where I apologized.

After all, my mother did.

She responded to calls, letters, and messages on social networks with a stone silence.

Now I'm alone in the world trying to be a historian but without the blessings or the support of my mother. It's not easy. Perhaps Mother was right about telling me not to become a historian. Americans are turning their backs on history.

I always hope my mother will answer. This is the first time I'm addressing her in public, so I'm going to say this:

Hi, Mom, I hope you're okay and you're taking care of yourself. You raised a strong boy, as we should be so many of us these days. I hoped that we would not need to learn history in such an acute way, but I still hope for better until I prepare for the worst. I hope that one day you will see Trumpism as a destructive force; just look at what damage it did to your family. Your son really misses you. He misses America a lot.

With love,

Jay [Jey] /Periscope