Years ago, I was driving over the La Veta Pass in southern Colorado, a lovely stretch that divides the eastern plains from the Sangre de Cristo (Blood of Christ) Mountain range that extends down into New Mexico.

It was a long drive, so I turned on the radio but heard nothing but static on the FM channels. On the AM, I had the choice between Christian music stations and talk radio, all of the right-wing variety—not exactly a perfect choice for someone of my nature.

I prefer Black church music to the former, and as far as the latter, I used to listen to Rush Limbaugh on previous road trips but wondered how long I could last before switching channels. I believe the record was 30 minutes.

While he was a notorious racist and misogynist, he did something on one show, however, that impressed me. During a call-in, a young college student told him that her professor wanted his students to write an obituary for themselves. The girl was worried that it was some liberal plot to turn her into a Communist, a lesbian, or something equally frightful. Rush answered that it was a legitimate exercise to make her take her life more seriously so when it came to an end, it reflected some worth.

Obviously, the irony escaped him—and Limbaugh receiving the Medal of Freedom was one of more odious moments of the first Trump regime.

Over the Pass, I found the Glenn Beck Program and, with a heavy sigh, decided to give it a go. Beck was interviewing a woman who was running for office as a Republican conservative. She was giving the usual party line until Beck asked her, “What are your values?”

The woman answered with her talking points until Beck interrupted her saying, “No, I’m not interested in your politics. What are your values?”—a word he deliberately emphasized. Still, she didn’t get it but, to his credit, Beck refused to yield, making it clear that core values were different from one’s political or religious opinions, although they can be formed by them.

The conversation perked up my ears because before we moved to New Mexico, my wife Lisa and I had spent a day exploring our own values. Scientist that she is, Lisa had on hand numerous charts, graphs, notepads, and a very intimidating list of 400 Core Values. Fortunately, many were synonyms (for example, bravery, courage, and fearlessness are pretty close) but going down the columns, which we did individually, it made us ponder which applied.

Before beginning, we divided them into three categories. First, the ones that were so deeply ingrained in our being that they defined who we are. Second, the values that we most resonate with. And lastly, and the most difficult, those which we wanted to lean more into during our future journey through life. Not surprisingly, this list was the longest for both of us.

It’s a good exercise because, if anything, it allows an honest appraisal of the kind of person you are and who you would like to be. I believe that life is a process of constant growth, hopefully in a positive direction. In no way does choosing our core values apply us for sainthood because every hour of the day, one has the option to follow or ignore.

But our choices do affect our politics and religious beliefs, not the other way around.

Lisa and I compared notes, listing our Top 10 Core Values and were not surprised that first and foremost was “beauty.” In this case, it had nothing to do with cosmetics or body image but the beauty of the heavens and the earth. Two months after this exercise, we made the conscious decision to move to New Mexico, where the beauty of the heavens and the earth smacks you in the face the minute you open the door.

Other values included justice, integrity, community, empathy, generosity and, not surprisingly, patriotism. Had it not been for the haven of America, all my grandparents and parents would have perished in the Holocaust.

Listening to Beck that day, I thought about the core value of compassion and how that translated for me. As I did so, I glanced to the left and saw a farm shed where the word “COMPASSION” was spray painted in bold pink and purple letters.

Fortunately, I didn’t fly off the road but I thought about that miracle for many miles afterwards.

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