You have struck a chord that has been resonating deep within for some time now. I’m all about the adage that all it takes is for good men to do nothing and the barbarians will crash the gates and all. I’d like to think I’m a good man. I’d also like to think that, at 52 years of age, I will do something in the last half of my life to atone for not doing enough in the first half to combat the attitudes you address.

I just don’t know what the hell to do. And that scares me, worries me, and makes me pessimistic when, deep down, I truly believe in our country and our people. How to awaken the passionate love for all things good about America in this culture that seems hell bent on obsessing on her failures? Throw in the rogues gallery of the usual dose of charletans , thieves, and traitors that have always been a part of our history and you have a county dead sent on destroying itself it seems.

How to roll up our sleves and get to work reclaiming the spirit of ’76 – even 1976 would do – is something I ache for the knowledge of how to accomplish.

I’m with you brother – I need leadership I can follow and I’m not seeing it and am ill equipped to provide.

Now I want someone smarter than me to explain where we really are, and where we’re really headed. I want someone to convince me that the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave isn’t finished. I want someone who really knows where we are, where American society really is, to convince me that the good people of this country who fought for freedom and the good people who respect and honor those who do, aren’t just a minority today and soon to be a memory tomorrow.

Good movies are fine, but I’m tired of crying over sad endings. Convince me. Please.

Best regards, Peter Warner.

I went to an open house at Scott Air Force Base, Illinois. In the hangar, as the Air Force Band played a medley of military music, I saw a man seated in a wheelchair at the table for the Paralyzed Veterans of America. I saw him sit taller, at attention, during the Marine Hymn portion of the medley.

I walked up to the table afterward, put a couple of dollars in his collection coffee can, and remarked about I figured he must have been a Marine since I saw him sit at attention during the Marine Hymn portion. He said, “Still am. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Were you in the Corps?”

“No, sir, but my father was.”

“He still is, son.”

“Well, sir, he can’t be because he died a few years ago.”

“Son,” he said gently, “your father is standing Honor Guard at the Pearly Gates right now. Once a Marine, Always a Marine.”

I burst into tears. I’ve never thought about the Corps the same way since.

Sepmer Fi Chance

Yup, it was Blackfive who first published the story, sent to him by a Marine’s father and friend of mine who was an early commenter here (in fact, that’s how we met).

That makes me what–a four?–in Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. Weird world.