Learning from patriots

Mine was a fortunate childhood, steeped in the lessons of American ideals

Confession time… a regular political column was never really in the cards. It’s exceedingly difficult, and frankly impossible, to keep up with the firehose of political news - even for someone fairly well immersed in political reporting and commentary. Felonious Trump advisor and MAGA icon Steve Bannon spoke of flooding the zone with sh**, and that certainly seems to be the pattern. Day by day, hour by hour inundation.

It’s political whack-a-mole with unbounded distractions as we barrel toward a Constitutional crisis and the apparent unmaking of an international order carefully built by administrations of both parties over the course of 80 years.

Trump, though not an intelligent man by traditional measures, does possess a certain lizard brain instinct for monopolizing and manipulating the daily news cycle, and through that, the national consciousness.

He has learned well that if you can keep people agitated with the exceptionally stupid, (i.e. the “Gulf of America”), you can buy enough time to get away with the truly hideous. Like betraying allies, cozying up to dictators, flouting the rule of law, and scuttling the Constitution.

A weak man as all bullies and aspiring dictators are, Trump instantly recognizes that frailty in others. There is astonishing weakness within Congressional leadership and he manipulates that to great effect. Some of the most powerful people in the world - US Senators - have betrayed their constituents, their honor, and their very soul, to avoid a mean tweet. Trump recognizes this fecklessness and plays them like Hendrix played a Stratocaster.

These are extraordinary times, and also extraordinarily exhausting times.

There is a brilliant collection of talented and valiant journalists, historians, legal scholars, and political analysts who do yeoman’s work each and every day to chronicle our decrepit political age. Anything I can offer is both redundant and self-indulgent.

After much consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are more effective ways to change hearts and minds than venting my spleen in a regular political column. Further, I do not sense that a regular column is a particularly effective means of persuading those who see things differently. For those inclined to agree, preaching to the choir is not the best use of limited time or resources.

So, I’m going to set this particular writing project down for a bit and engage in other, hopefully more impactful ways. I will use this platform for political observations on occasion, but not with anything approaching regularity.

I will leave a listing of trusted sources at the bottom of this post for those interested. These are not ideologues or political hacks. They are talented and insightful pro-democracy writers and thinkers of all stripes and political affiliations. I trust each of them implicitly, and would encourage anyone still consuming news via corporate media such as Fox, or CNN, or MSNBC, to turn off the television and seek out truth through more reliable avenues.

With regard to the title of this piece, and the things that led me to dabble in political commentary to begin with…

An exceptionally fortunate childhood

I enjoyed the immense fortune of growing up among great patriots. The stories of their lives would be recognizable to hundreds of millions of Americans. They were common people who did uncommon things as citizens in the principled defense of liberty.

My maternal grandfather was a small town grocer from Sumter, South Carolina who answered the call of duty following the attack on Pearl Harbor. He was mustered into the Army, went through stateside training, and was subsequently deployed overseas. He sustained a shrapnel wound in France while on patrol, and spent time recovering in an English hospital as the war neared its end. He returned home, opening a small grocery store in 1947, raising a family and serving his community until his retirement in 1981.

Granddad on leave from the Army

He was a quiet, dignified man - a strict father turned doting grandfather. He was humble about his World War II service, saying little other than he happy to serve, but was not fond of marching and happy to get on with his life back home.

One day while at my grandparents’ home I noticed his shrapnel-scarred shoulder while he changed shirts after working in the yard. He sat down with me and told the story of his injury, allowing me to touch his scar. There was something about that tactile experience that made the war, then just 40 years distant, come to life for me as a child. It made the history of that war personal - providing me an intimate connection to the fight against tyranny that resonated in a profound way.

He was never showy about his patriotism or his service. There was nothing performative, nothing in him that sought attention. Like so many of that greatest of generations, he lived his life quietly, with profound dignity.

My dad entered the Navy after high school, serving aboard a Minesweeper in the late 60’s. He later went onto serve with distinction as an officer during a 25 year career in the Army National Guard.

Dad in his Navy days

Beyond the example of his military service, the most impactful lesson in citizenry I learned from him was when he took me along to vote in the 1980 Presidential Election. It’s a fuzzy memory - I was eight years old. But I remember the important things.

The polling location was E.L. Wright Middle School, less than a mile as the crow flies from our home then in Columbia’s Briarwood subdivision. There were paper ballots and wooden ballot boxes and a smattering of people waiting to cast their vote. There was an understated energy and orderliness to it - a reverence - that struck me even at that young age. I remember thinking as we left that I had witnessed something profoundly important, and indeed I had.

On another occasion around that time, after dad dropped me off for morning class at Windsor Elementary, the Star Spangled Banner began to play over the school’s loudspeaker. Looking back over my shoulder as I approached the school entrance, I saw dad stop his car. He got out and stood at attention, hand over heart for the duration of the anthem. I was struck again by the deeply-felt patriotism, the pride in country, the reverence he showed, unaware that anyone was watching.

But I was watching. And learning.

A deep reverence for democratic ideals

I learned from others too, of course. From an uncle who served nobly as a career Army officer, including as Green Beret in the Vietnam War. I learned from great uncles who eagerly served in all branches during World War II and after. I learned from a grandmother who resiliently managed life on the Homefront during the war, and was a pillar of the community throughout her life.

I learned also from my mother, who taught me in her gentle way lessons in subversion of tyranny one summer as she read aloud from The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom. It was the story of a Dutch family who risked their lives to hide Jews during Nazi occupation. I vowed during that summer as a twelve-year-old boy I would strive to be that brave in the face of tyranny.

Because to hell with Nazis, original and the modern day variety.

I also watched my mother as she delivered food to shut-ins and engaged in ministry to underprivileged members of the community. Nothing showy, nothing performative, but life-altering all the same for the people she served.

All of them understood the meaning of service, of sacrifice, of patriotism deep in their bones. Watching them go about their lives, I absorbed the lessons of their actions. Though I have rarely lived up to those ideals, I have them to thank for the examples they set.

And on the opposite end of that spectrum…

All of that is what troubles me so deeply about Donald J. Trump - a man who displays no understanding of those American ideals; a man who has disparaged US war dead as “suckers” and “losers”; a man who did not want “any wounded guys” in a planned Independence Day parade during his first term because he felt it reflected poorly on him; a man who attacked a Gold Star family who had been critical of him during the 2016 Republican National Convention; and a man who would no doubt disparage the service of my grandfather and father and uncle.

That frankly pisses me off.

Furthermore, Trump’s denigration of John McCain’s military service during a July, 2015 campaign stop was disqualifying on its face. Set aside for a moment Trump’s grotesque history of sexual assault, his 34 felony convictions, his attempted coup and incitement of an armed assault on the Capitol, all of which followed. It was the moment Trump belittled a war hero that his viability as a political leader crashed and burned in my estimation.

John McCain was no saint, and by many accounts was an exceedingly difficult man. Politics is an ugly business, and political opponents can be forgiven for most campaign excesses.

But in America, we do not denigrate the honorable military service of our political opponents, let alone that of a man who spent seven years as a prisoner of war, who was grievously injured and endured torture, and who courageously refused early release based on his status as the son of a Navy Admiral.

We don’t do that in this country. Ever. Full stop.

Donald Trump is not fit to carry the briefcase of a man like John McCain, and it was that singular moment that set me irreversibly along the path of devoted “Never Trumper.”

The man has done nothing morally or ethically redemptive in the decade since, and many things worse.

Until the 2026 Midterms…

We must keep the faith, friends. Remember that even during the worst of the Jim Crow era, when lynchings were commonplace; when Black Americans were jailed and beaten and murdered for the temerity of sitting at a lunch counter; when John Lewis suffered a fractured skull for participating in the righteous protest march across the Edmond Pettus Bridge, facing attack dogs and police brutality and the spittle-flecked rage of his fellow citizens; even in the midst of all of that, leaders of the Civil Rights Movement, Lewis included, expressed a deep love and understanding of the promise of America.

If they could do it, we certainly can too.

Dum Spiro Spero, friends, and onto 2026.

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Recommended sources:

• Heather Cox Richardson - Letters from an American

• Joyce Vance - Civil Discourse

• Charlie Sykes - To the Contrary

• The Bulwark

• Ruth Ben-Ghiat - Lucid

• Anne Applebaum’s writing at The Atlantic