I stepped out of the shower Tuesday morning, toweled-off and rummaged through my t-shirts for something I hadn’t worn recently. (Like that matters, right?) I intentionally dug all the way to the bottom of the stack and came up with this:
Perfect — it rekindled memories of my three visits to the unconventional settlement of Polebridge, Montana in the fall of 2021. Those trips returned me to a place I first saw in 1978, when it was decidedly rougher.
Speaking of t-shirts (stay with me here), Monday night I took in the latest video from Eric and Arielle of Simple Living Alaska, one of my favorite off-grid and homesteading channels. What I admire most about the pair is that both of them work their asses off — neither sits around and waits for instruction, inspiration or motivation.
The first part of this particular video followed them on a three-day river-camping trip; the second documented clearing a patch of their land for a woodshed. Eric was running a chainsaw in the latter segment, dropping spruces, when I noticed that he was wearing a shirt bearing the unmistakable (to me) outline of the state of Arkansas.
Emblazoned over the shape were the words, “Where the heck is B_____e Arkansas?” I couldn’t make out the name of the town — it was white-on-white and illegible.
Having watched this channel awhile, I can’t recall seeing anything remotely like that before. Maybe there’s a connection I don’t know about. Maybe a channel patron sent it to him.
Minutia.
Smudge and I were off to Flippin yesterday morning. The usual.
As I rolled to the crest of the road, I paused — the mountains to the east were framed perfectly by roadside trees, layers made more distinct by haze.
It was a grand scene. I took pictures.
Far-flung friends send me photos of October where they live. They tell me about lighting their woodstoves to ward-off autumn’s chill. Here, still, colors haven’t popped. We enjoy cool mornings and warm afternoons.
I’ve always loved the fall. These days, I appreciate a shoulder season that’s more gradual, more temperate.
Sometimes I see things that make me wonder about what I’ve been missing.
Not far from the cabin yesterday, coming up on the pasture where I often find whitetails, I eased off the throttle in anticipation. Suddenly, Smudge climbed over the console and onto my arm — something had caught her attention.
I looked to my left and saw a doe staring back at me, maybe ten yards away.
How often, I mused, do I drive by and never even notice?
About that time, I detected movement in the outside rearview mirror. I glanced back over my shoulder — a youngster had joined the doe on the south side of the road.
For me, obviously, this stuff never gets old.
If I said I was about to invoke the words of Gen. James “Mad Dog” Mattis, USMC (ret.), I know which quote you think I’m gonna drop. So let’s get that out of the way:
“I come in peace. I didn’t bring artillery. But I’m pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: If you fuck with me, I’ll kill you all.”
That’s the kind of “toxic masculinity” that drives the Left (and squishy moderates) crazy. And America needs more of it, both from warfighters and from men generally. It’s an all-occasions attitude.
But that’s not the Mattisism I came here to quote. This is:
“I don’t lose any sleep at night over the potential for failure. I cannot even spell the word.”
The condition goes by many names. Fear of failure. Playing not to lose. Risk-aversion. Better safe than sorry. When we focus on the chance that we may fail, usually we do.
Gen. Mattis advances with a particular mindset, and so do I. You won’t catch me wasting time worrying about the worst case.
Forward.
Tuesday afternoon, President Trump awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom posthumously to Charlie Kirk. It’s the most appropriate exercise of the honor since he bestowed it on Rush Limbaugh in 2020.
In accepting the award on behalf of her late husband, Erika Kirk said something that stood out to me. Just two words: “divine restlessness.”
Charlie Kirk was divinely restless.
I know how Erika meant that — Charlie’s inward grace manifested in outward passion. It occurs to me, however, that one need not profess what Charlie professed, or even believe in divinity, to be divinely restless.
Whatever we hold inside ourselves — call it faith, call it spirit, call it a soul — is nothing without action.
We are not what we believe. We are what we do.
Charlie Kirk deserves to be honored by every American. His faith will inspire the faithful. But he also was a warrior for Liberty, and that should inspire us all.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable