Author: Richard Carter
Who would have thought, after the monumental achievements of our country that America could so easily and quickly be brought to the doors of disrepute and near ruin? What idiocy you say. The entertainment still streams from your devices. Your cars are not being shelled by any enemy force. Your money is still as close as the cards in your fingertips. What ruin, you say.
Are you and I really so blind to it? Can we say that we don’t hear the whispers of war, not just on the lips of Russian leaders, but among our own populations? Are not all sorts of corruptions, high and low, presently debated? Are the lists of crimes against our country being counted so rapidly that they become lost in the length of the list? Are we losing all moral ground, all common sense? Are the racial struggles that seem to grow worse and worse, daily, just one more visible facet of the cancer that eats at our nation?
We have become a faint shadow compared to our previous selves, a shadow so insubstantial we are lost in the overall darkness that now permeates our lives. Our future has becomes less and less ours, and more and more part of someone else’s, plan. Human initiative began to dissolve away when we began asking someone else to carry our responsibilities and face the challenges of our future for us.
We have photos from the past that show us better times, but we really can’t understand, through these alone, all we’ve lost. This isn’t about Democrats or Republicans or Independents. It isn’t about race or religion. It’s about leadership that once inspired human achievement, not the kind that belittles it.
We did the unconscionable. We forgot, (we choose to forget) that world and what have we traded it for? I want the modern wonders of science. I want the miracles of technology and medicine that save lives daily, all of it, but I want our old understanding of ourselves, our old honor system, one that of course fails as all systems of conscious are prone to do, but all the same our understanding of it before it was universal, whether we chose to live by it or not.
I want a world back that has a reverence for women, and not a proof of purchase. I want young girls to be able to grow, knowing, with a sense of self-worth, and able to experience a genuine lasting love and not temporary usage.
Men of today, you want to be Heroes? First you need to be men and not beasts.
Heroes don’t look forward to unlawful violence. They don’t find satisfaction in the destruction of property or in the injuries inflicted on innocent people. They don’t hide their actions in mob like crowds and later talk of their bravery. They don’t cry out for equal treatment while they vocalize plans of genocide against another race. Heroes don’t attack elderly women or steal the dignity of any woman in an act of rape. They don’t reach into the past for reasons to hate and hold these as a proof against the challenges of their everyday lives, ones they refuse to face. White or black, red, brown, or yellow, they don’t kill to sooth petty differences. Heroes act in a specific way and this isn’t it.
America sits at a crossroads, one that could lead two ways. If we choose to continue our individual petty grievances, eventually armed conflicts, lasting ones will begin, and military rule will be necessary. But while in this one scenario we struggle against one another, who will be watching our back, who would want to?
With the growing list of America’s enemies looking for just that weak moment of civil war within, how long would we last if the wolves, the militaries of other countries, were to join forces and choose that moment to attack? The other path, the other road equally open to us is one of honest, self-analysis. It is a path that would call for changes, a shaving away of the things contributing to the chaos in our lives. Guns aren’t the problem. We existed for all this time and thrived becoming the super power of the modern world, the light for the rest of the world to look to. Firearms never hindered that process, but now our thinking does.
We may have to cross bitter waters to reach the sweet; we may have to alter for our own good some of the creative freedoms that now produce rot and decay. Something, some influence changed our children over a period of their exposure to it. Whether that was part of some plan or just the cost of our own excess, our own belligerent nature, whatever you label it, cancers must be removed for the body to remain whole, for it not to whither, and a further dose of denial is not the medicine called for.