We’re being overrun by illegal immigrants and our spineless non-leaders seem not to care one whit. China, North Korea and Iran are in a rat race to see who can either break us or blow us off the face of the Earth. The homosexual community has thoroughly invaded our schools and is promoting the virtues of sexual perversion. Iraq is a mess of Biblical proportion. The ACLU and other godless groups seek to eradicate any form of religious expression from the public forum. The Republican Party has become the Democrat Party, and the Democrats have become the New Socialist Windbag Party.
Dammit! Enough already!
I’m feeling the need for some good news. If I’m feeling it, then it’s a good bet that a lot of you feel it, too. Want some?
I just completed a run from Georgia to Minnesota, and now I’m on my way to Alabama. On I-94 the traffic is rolling along at a steady pace. Americans are going about their business in cars and pickups and 18-wheelers and pricey SUV’s and even pricier Winnebago mansions-on-wheels. It’s been an absolutely beautiful day. The setting sun is resting behind the rolling hills of Western Wisconsin and casting a fiery display of oranges and reds upon the horizon’s wispy clouds. America has survived another day.
The Alphabet Networks still talk of doom and gloom. The AM radio is clogged with the ranting and raving of Air America and Air Limbaugh. And yet in spite of all that and the utter ineptitude of every elected official in Washington, we’re still chugging along and doing just fine, thank you very much.
This morning a woman in New Hope, MN named “Becky” unloaded my trailer while simultaneously chatting with me about her new grandchild. Pictures of the kid? Of course she had pictures. Proud grannies always do. I’ve never seen this woman before, but there she was showing off her new grandchild. Didn’t matter. The kid was adorable. All newborns are.
Later this morning, a trucker named Henry joined me at the counter in the truck stop in Rogers, MN for a cup of coffee. We lamented that it’s still several months before football season (now there’s a crisis). We laughed at some nameless talking head on a local TV news broadcast because his toupee was darker than his real hair. And when we rose to leave, we joined in a good old-fashion bone-crunching handshake and told each other to “be careful out there.”
Never saw him before. Probably never see him again. Didn’t matter. We’re truckers. We are therefore friends.
Two weeks ago I was stuck three days in Laredo, TX. I spent 2 evenings at the motel’s pavilion downing Bud Lite and munching hotdogs with people from every walk of life. I met a man & wife team who travel the country assembling the interiors of “China Gourmet” restaurants. I met a young woman who’s traveling the Southwest photographing the wildlife. I met several truckers who, like me, had their rigs in the shop for repairs. We didn’t talk politics. We talked about life. We talked about God. Sports. Money. Work. Never saw any of them before. I’ll never see them again. Didn’t matter. We had a great time.
Yesterday I saw an Illinois State Trooper on the shoulder of I-39 changing a flat tire for an elderly lady. Saturday I watched in awe as a cable news channel played a video of Americans helping Americans in and around tornado-stricken Gallatin, TN. Many of them were strangers to each other. It didn’t matter. They’re Americans.
We are facing new challenges and new enemies from without and within. Our economy, even though it’s humming along better than it has in years, is a house of cards. Any of us could face death tomorrow at the hands of a Muslim terrorist or a local thug. Any American city could at this very moment be incinerated in a blazing mushroom cloud. Do I care? Yes. Do I worry? Of course.
But I will not let it rob me of my well-earned night’s sleep. I’ll leave the teeth gnashing and the hand-wringing and nay saying and the America-bashing to those who can’t sleep unless they engage in such things. And then I’ll write about them here as I always do. The shortest route to defeat is to allow our enemies here and abroad to alter how we live. It hasn’t happened. It isn’t even close to happening. We’re Americans.
And the reason we’re who we are can be seen on any street corner, inside any business, and most any home in any town. Plain old everyday Americans. People like you and me who get up every morning and do what needs to be done. Many of those Americans are getting up in Iraq or Afghanistan and risking their lives in combat with a vile enemy. I could say that I “respect” them – but that’d be a hollow thing to say. Their courage in the face of indescribable hardship cannot be properly respected with mere words.
You and I can show our love and respect for them by doing our part – by rising each day and living our lives in spite of the adversity that our enemies would visit upon us. Every time I kneel and pray to Christ, I have also spit in the eye of Osama bin Laden. Every time I deliver another load of freight or you buy another bag of groceries, we’re doing our part not just for ourselves, but for our country. We keep the economic engine running.
Every time we grab that obnoxious cell phone and report a crime, we’re making America safer. Every time we vote, we’re exercising our right to see this nation run as we deem it should be. Every time we drop a nickel into a gigantic jar by a cash register, we’re helping to fight leukemia or muscular dystrophy - or maybe it’s a local charity to help a small child get a kidney transplant. Bottom line: We’re helping our country, because the country isn’t a bunch of empty suits in Washington. It’s you. It’s me. It’s our neighbors and family.
We’re working together, you and I… and we’ve never seen each other. Probably never will. It doesn’t matter. We’re Americans.
Alan Burkhart is a freelance political writer, cross-country trucker, and proud citizen of the reddest of the Red States - Mississippi. You can reach him via e-mail at: alan@alanburkhart.com or by visiting his website: www.alanburkhart.com.
