The World Needs Stories that Heal, Reveal and Make You Feel More than Pundits

Last night I wrote what I thought was an earth-shattering warning about Donald Trump.

It had everything.

Dark predictions nuclear wars. Gaza brought to our shores.

Historical references of mass hysteria fed by racism.

A storyteller’s instinct for the worst possible ending.

A meditation practitioner’s reluctant journey into catastrophic thinking.

Basically... two cups of coffee and no adult supervision.

This morning I reread it.

About halfway through I thought, *Good Lord... I suck as a pundit.*

The internet already has over a billion people explaining why civilization ends next Tuesday. Did it really need one more?

No.

What it needs is fewer people yelling and more people wondering.

Looking back over my career, I realized something. The work I’m proudest of was never about telling people what to think. *A Kid’s View of the US* celebrated America through the eyes of children. My movies ask questions. They tell stories. They let audiences argue all the way home.

That’s the work my wife and partner Elizabeth are dedicated to.

Not cable news.

Not political prophecy.

Not waking up every morning wondering, “Now what outrageous thing can I say to get strangers to yell at me in the comments?”

Life’s too short.

At **Seniors on Soapboxes**, Elizabeth and I have a different mission.

We’re more interested in wisdom than winning.

More interested in curiosity than certainty.

More interested in laughter than outrage.

And we’re certainly more interested in telling stories than pretending we have all the answers.

We’ll still talk about the big issues. We’d be irresponsible not to.

But our goal isn’t to recruit you into Team Ken.

It’s to invite you into a conversation.

Because here’s what I’ve learned after seven decades.

Most people don’t change their minds because someone shouted louder.

They change because someone told a story that quietly stayed with them.

So I officially resign from my one-night career as a political pundit.

It was exhausting.

I think I’ll go back to being a storyteller.

Besides...

It’s a lot more fun.

And if Elizabeth catches me writing another 2,000-word political screed, she’s authorized to confiscate my keyboard and sentence me to writing another screenplay instead.