Who deserves our love?

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Love—who hasn’t wrestled with its mysteries? From ancient ballads to modern movies, we’ve spent countless words and melodies trying to capture its many faces.

Through my life, I’ve experienced familial love from parents, siblings, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Its depth varies by person, but for me, Mom and Dad shine brightest—their love steady and enduring. People say parental love is unmatched, the kind that would sacrifice anything to save you.

Grandparents often come next, their affection a gentle extension of that instinct. Many note it’s easier to love grandchildren; they’re spared the burden of discipline needed to shape responsible adults. For those of us blessed with these bonds, we return that love naturally, striving to ensure our parents and grandparents feel loved and cared for as they age.

Romantic love, though, has been elusive—a chase where I rarely convinced my heart’s choice to feel the same, even as others tried to win me over. I spent years pursuing those who inspired me to fall. As a teen, I’d craft special gifts to show my feelings—like restoring an old cedar keepsake box, carving her favorite flower into it. The effort fell flat, teaching me over time that such gestures were often futile. I fell for those I couldn’t sway, and though some saw me as their match, I proved hard to convince. The few times I shared a path with a lady, she moved on, leaving “elusive” as the constant refrain of my romantic story.

Yet where romance faltered, friendship flourished. When I broke a bone, friends brought meals and drove me to rehab; when funds dried up, a quiet gift arrived. If something needed fixing, someone stepped in—sometimes for a song, often for free. This Christian brotherly love has sustained me through life’s highs and lows. God sent friends to uplift me daily—best companions in personal moments, public service, ministry, acting, music, and writing. Some have passed, but their love still echoes; others remain, brightening my world with their presence.

Beyond that, I see a love for humanity—acts of kindness with no strings attached. Ever helped a stranger gather spilled groceries or rallied neighbors against a wildfire until firemen arrived? We offer these blessings not for reward, but in hope they’ll spark a chain of good, making our world better.

Above all, God’s love for me, and mine for Him, gives it meaning. “That he who loveth God love his brother also,” says 1 John 4:21. So, to whom do we owe love? Everyone who crosses our path. It’s not about degrees—it’s about doing it fully, every day. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that love—given freely, without measure—can ripple out and change the world. Are you changing the world?

Speaking Your Success into Being

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Have you ever wondered why we have a tongue? Is it merely a tool to utter nonsense to those around us? Not everything that rolls off our lips is trivial—far from it. Words hold power, and what we speak can shape our lives in ways we might not expect.

Consider a night from my youth. I sat with my mother after watching the premiere of In the Heat of the Night. Inspired, I turned to her and declared, “If I’m ever on television, it’ll be on this show.” I had no plan, no connections—just a bold thought I voiced aloud. Some might have dismissed it as a childish boast, but five months later, I stood on that set. God planted the idea; I spoke it, claimed it, and He moved. That moment taught me our tongues can breathe life into dreams.

History echoes this truth. Consider the Committee of Five—Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston—who drafted the Declaration of Independence. Four of them are my kin, and while I share their blood, it was God who gifted them words that altered destinies. Scribed and proclaimed by town criers across the colonies, their syllables birthed a nation. Were they uniquely blessed? Yes, but their example reveals what’s possible when inspired speech meets divine purpose.

What have you spoken over your life lately? We may not draft nations, but we pen the founding documents of our own stories. Whether whispered in prayer, shared with loved ones, or written in quiet moments, our words carry weight. Faith tells us they can unlock extraordinary opportunities. Psalms 130:2 pleads, “Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications,” reflecting the hope that God listens—“From our lips to His ears.” If He plants the thought, He waits for us to claim it aloud.

Does every claim come to pass? If it aligns with His will and our covenant as Christians, I believe it can. Yet caution is key. Proverbs 18:21 warns, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” We can just as easily speak disaster as blessing. A modern echo, often tied to Ralph Waldo Emerson, adds, “Be careful what you set your heart upon, for it surely shall be yours.” Our speech shapes reality.

So, be mindful of what you utter. Your tongue can curse or bless, destroy or build. I urge you—set a positive future in motion. Speak life, uplift others, and create momentum for God’s purpose. Your success may well begin with the next words you say.

Is There Value in Knowing Where You Came From?

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We cleared the supper plates, leaving a few pieces of fried chicken, boiled ‘taters, and garden-fresh green beans to cover for tomorrow. The smell of fresh-baked cornbread hung in the kitchen as Aunt Short sliced her homemade chocolate pie, passing wedges around the table. With dessert and fresh-brewed coffee in hand, I knew the adults would settle in for hours of storytelling. Uncle Jay slipped out to toss wood on the fire, then returned, packing his pipe with tobacco. As he lit it, smoke curled above his head, and tales began tumbling from their tongues.
Since I was a child, I’ve been spellbound by the old folks’ stories—shared around that table or by the hearth’s flicker. One favorite took me to Fort Watauga, 1776, amid the struggles to settle western North Carolina. Cherokee warriors under Old Abraham laid a two-week siege, arrows and musket balls flying as settlers returned fire from the fort. “Jump, my Bonnie Kate!” Uncle John Sevier hollered, yanking her over the wall—she’d been caught milking cows outside. That daring rescue sparked a love that’d one day make them Tennessee’s first Governor and First Lady.
My kin—the Scottish Kilgores and English Sherrills—joined the Overmountain Men, marching to Kings Mountain to rout the British. Along the way, they picked up the German Weirs. Sitting quietly, I soaked up decades of wisdom from ancestors living and dead—Scottish bagpipes rallying our men, fiddles driving frontier trade days. Patriots fought at Trenton and Kings Mountain, settlers clashed with Native Americans, and later generations endured Shiloh’s bloodied fields and Normandy’s beaches.
Closer to home, family feuds simmered for decades. Grandpa’s scars bore witness—seven healed-over knife wounds from a brawl he barely survived, a bullet lodged too deep to remove. Mama’d recount those close calls, her voice hushed, fueling my young imagination with heroes among our kin. Another memory lingers: an old family saint who’d ask strangers, “Who are your people?” Give her a name, and she’d spin chapters of their history—tidbits even they didn’t know—tying us to the past with a knowing grin.
Little survived of the world before American shores, just scraps from Scotland, Ireland, England, and Germany. Names, songs, and tunes lingered, played on instruments handed down since the 1600s. Generations settled land, founded towns, and drifted south and west from New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Virginia, rooting deep in Tennessee, Kentucky, and Georgia.
At 12, I began digging—courthouse to courthouse, graveyard to graveyard. Now, the internet unearths wonders with a click. Those bagpipes hailed from clans who won Scotland’s freedom under Robert the Bruce. German kin shaped Lutheran theology, Irish forebears defied Cromwell, and an English ancestor—Geoffrey Chaucer—penned The Canterbury Tales.
Every century’s tales show what our folks endured, letting us walk tall, proud of who we are. Learn your people’s stories—it’s no accident you’re here. You carry the dreams of generations, meant to shape the future.

God’s Piloting Spirit

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Years back, I had a show in a small North Carolina mountain town I’d never visited, though I’d played many nearby. Wanting a scenic drive, I planned extra time to meander through the mountains and arrive well ahead of schedule.
I’ve never trusted electronic GPS—printed maps were always my go-to. But this time, I consulted an online mapping service before leaving home and printed the directions. With a smile, my truck packed, and a sense of adventure, I set off into the unknown.
The drive was pleasant, winding through Tennessee toward North Carolina, until the directions went awry. I turned off a major highway onto a quiet county road, then a rougher one, then a gravel track. Soon, I was rattling along a dirt path—two lanes shrinking to one, pocked with dips and holes. I pressed on in faith until I hit a farm gate blocking a pasture. The internet map had led me to a dead end.
If this were a leisurely jaunt, I might’ve laughed it off. But with a job ahead and time slipping away, stress crept in. I still had hours to travel and a deadline to meet. Inch by inch, I turned my truck around on that narrow lane and retraced my steps to the last decent road. I stepped out, glanced at the sun, checked my watch, and reckoned the direction I needed. Pointing my truck accordingly, I navigated a web of backroads until I hit a familiar state highway. Pedal down, I rolled into town just half an hour late—still early enough to prep and take the stage, hoping to make memories for the crowd.
The conventional route would’ve taken three and a half hours. My “adventure” stretched it to six. Trusting my instincts had pulled me out of the wilderness, but had I leaned on them from the start, the day might’ve stayed leisurely instead of turning tense.
Why share this? On the surface, it’s a simple lesson: don’t blindly trust tech. Dig deeper, and it’s more universal. When we let others chart our course, we risk veering off track—sometimes innocently, sometimes not. I recovered thanks to a frontier spirit inherited from ancestors who braved unmapped wilds on foot and horseback. But what if I hadn’t?
It’s a reminder to weigh who’s guiding us. Do they care about our success? Maybe that’s why Reno & Smiley sang, “I’m Using My Bible for a Road Map.” God’s guidance—through spirit and sense—steered me where I needed to be, using my gifts to touch others. So, are you relying on GPS, or God’s Piloting Spirit?

Fool’s Gold: Lessons from a Childhood Quest

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From childhood, I learned that not everything that glitters is gold.

I remember my boyhood experiences as a child playing by myself around a nearby creek. The gurgling of the water as it rushed over the rocks always filled my soul with a sense of peace. The sounds of the birds simply became an orchestra of a soundtrack beneath the creek sounds.

I was pulling rocks from the bottom of the creek to begin a fort, and I stirred up a flurry of gold glittering in the water. I thought, I’ve struck gold. This would solve those financial problems I heard my parents talking about.

I decided to collect as much as I could that day and bring it home to share with my folks.

I had seen in westerns the miners panning for gold, so I pedaled home quietly entered in the back door avoiding my mom, borrowing a pan and a shovel from the garage.

After coming back I panned for the little flakes compiling them in a repurposed tobacco sack now used for marbles.

After endless hours of the endeavor, darkness was coming on, so I collected my gains, my tools and got on my bike and pedaled home to beat the street lights from coming on.

When everything was put away, I proudly presented my day’s endeavors to my dad.

He opened the sack, looked inside and said, “Son, come over here.” He lifted me up upon his knee and said to me look inside this bag. I did thinking how proud I was of my efforts.

Beside the bag he held out his ring finger which held his wedding band and said, “Now, look at my ring. Does what you have in the bag look like what’s on my finger?”

I looked back and forth between the sack and his ring and I looked up at him and said,

“They are different. Why are they different?”

He smiled and said, “Because, son, all that glitters is not gold. What you have here is a bag of iron pyrite, often called ‘fool’s gold’.”

“So, it’s not worth anything?”, I asked.

“Well let’s think on that,” he said. “How long did you spend on gathering this bag?”

I told him all day. He asked me if I worked hard at it and I told him that I was plum tuckered out.

“Did you enjoy the time you did it?” he asked.

“I did,” I told him.

“Have you learned anything from the experience?” he inquired.

“Yes, I learned that sometimes you can spend all day trying to get the gold and come home empty-handed,” I said.

He said that is a good lesson, but another one was not to jump at every shiny thing in life.

“If you do, you may find out too late that shiny things are not what is best for you in your life,” he said.

Before he set me back down, he pulled the drawstring on the bag, handed it back to me.

“Son, thank you for what you tried to do for our family,” he said. “Your heart was in the right place. Just keep trying.

“Next time, you may just find a true treasure. Just learn a bit and maybe talk to me about it before jumping feet first into it,” he counseled. “Also, I would get your mom’s skillet washed and put back before she realizes you were using it.”

I smiled and climbed off his knee.

“Son, why don’t you put that bag on your bedpost? I think when you see it, it will remind you that bright and shiny isn’t always what’s best for us,” he said.

“Sure Pa,” I said.

Not too long ago, I was going through some boxes in my attic, and ran across that white bag of fool’s gold, I was reminded the adventure of that day was such a great memory. I could almost hear the creek again emanating from the iron pyrite in my hand.

That childhood lesson has tempered my choices throughout my life. I found those shiny things my father was talking about are more than just gold. They could be a beautiful girl, a flashy car, a better job, a big house or every imaginable toy an adult might want.

While, sometimes I have weakened being drawn for a time to shiny things, I have managed to step back from the precipice before jumping feet first without a full review of what I was about to swallow hook, line and sinker.

Are you jumping for every shiny thing that comes your way? Maybe, it’s time to look more deeply into your personal bag of fool’s gold before you buy that next thing that glitters in front of you.

Chasing Success: A Personal Odyssey

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What is success? Some would say it’s landing the job that represents the pinnacle of one’s vocation. Others might point to the amassing of money, houses, cars, or other assets. We watch television shows where celebrities appear, dressed in fine clothes and adorned with jewels, seeming to have it all. Perhaps that’s the version of success some strive to achieve. If one could write a popular book, find their stride as an athlete, or invent something everyone needs, those would certainly be seen as measures of success.

From my late parents’ perspective, success was being loved, raising a family, paying all your bills, helping others when needs arose, and ending each year hopefully a little better off financially than the year before.

In short, success is the achievement of something desired, planned, or attempted, or the gaining of fame or prosperity. However, I believe success is defined by each of us based on our own set of circumstances and the vision we have for our life or the aspirations we hold for those we love. Thus, it’s not set in stone but rather a moving target.

Encouraged by my parents, I became the first in my extended family to attend and graduate from college. I worked my way through it and still take great pride in this achievement. However, apart from holding my own among other college graduates, I’ve seen little additional success from that degree hanging on my wall.

God’s intervention in my life led me to work within the gifts He bestowed upon my spirit—music, acting, and writing. My parents also gifted me with a common-sense approach to life and business.

I recall a time when I was riding in a stretch black limousine from one of the nicest hotels in a major American city. With me were my long-time agent and a beautiful entertainer as my date. I remember looking up at the skyscrapers, thinking how blessed I was. We were dressed to the nines, on our way to a celebrity event with a red carpet. On the opposite side of the street were bleachers filled with spectators, and along the red carpet, every imaginable media outlet was there to interview those walking it. When the limo stopped, the red carpet announcer introduced me as I stepped out. There were rousing cheers from the crowd. I turned to assist my guest and my agent, both ladies, from the car, and we then walked the carpet, fielding questions before joining other acting and music celebrities at the event. To many, I’m sure I embodied their vision of success.

Yet, after returning home, I was back to figuring out which hat to shake for my next paycheck. From many such experiences in life, I have concluded that in order to grab a hold of success, one must work hard every day to reach new goals in each area—a new book, a new single or album, another tour, perhaps a new film or TV show role.

While I have managed to reach a certain level of success in several fields, there’s still much more to achieve to truly claim the brass ring in any of these endeavors.

Looking back at my life through my parents’ definition of success, I’ve succeeded in some ways, while in others, I’ve failed miserably. God provides the means to pay my bills. I’ve been blessed with the time to help others. However, I never managed to raise a family, which I regret more each day. Some years end with less financial success than the previous one. Am I loved? I would say sometimes I feel I am, other times I feel I am not. So, have I found success?

From my childhood understanding of success, the answer might be no. But after many years of creating my own understanding of success, I would say, yes. I am blessed that my career has allowed me to do things others might only dream about and, at the same time, to have a positive, encouraging impact on many.

Will I ever reach a point where I can say, “Well, I have reached the pinnacle of success”? I hope not. If there’s ever a day I don’t get up with a goal to accomplish, then I won’t feel like a success. Instead, I’d likely feel more useless.

Reflecting on my journey, I realize that my evolving perception of success has not only shaped my life but has also influenced those around me. When I was younger, success seemed like a destination marked by accolades and public recognition. Now, I see it as a journey, one that’s enriched by personal growth, the love we share, and the lives we touch. This shift in perspective has taught me to value the encouragement I offer others, the mentorship I provide, and the quiet moments of joy in my work over the fleeting applause of the public. As I’ve grown, so too has my definition of success, becoming less about the external markers and more about internal peace and contribution to others. This evolution in my understanding might be my true success, influencing not just my path but also those who have walked alongside me or followed my journey from afar.

So, in life, define what success is to you. Strive towards the path to reach it. Put the throttle forward, and go full steam ahead. Good luck!

Chaos in the Clothes Closet: Life’s Unexpected Lessons

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I heard the crackle and then the sound of a tree crashing to the ground. At least, that’s how it sounded in the dead of night.

I headed to the wall to turn on the light, but I stubbed my toe on the cedar bedpost. Holding my foot, I hopped over to the switch and flipped it on. When I could finally set my foot down, I found the source of the noise. Half my walk-in closet was now on the floor, like a chaotic thrift store; plaid shirts, blue, grey, and every shade of brown suits were wrestling for space. The metal shelves and shoes from above had joined the fray, leaving massive holes where anchors once held.

I wish I could say I took it in stride, but with my toe throbbing, I was more annoyed at the timing than anything. I decided to leave the mess for morning, turned off the lights, and crawled back into bed.

The next day, I moved each suit to the guest room bed, laying them out like patients in recovery. The white shelving and supports were next, placed on the guest room’s hardwood floor. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months without any motivation to fix it, until a call reminded me the guest room was needed.

Isn’t life like that sometimes? Unexpected, like a closet collapsing or a water leak in the bathroom. Or it could be more profound—a job loss, an accident, or a life-altering diagnosis. We’re not the sole authors of our lives, but how we react is our choice. Do we greet adversity with a grimace or with hope?

I’ve seen both types of people: those who seem to carry the world’s sadness, their anger and profanity a constant leak. And then there are those with an inner fortitude, facing even the gravest of circumstances with a strength that seems unbreakable.

Which one do you want to be? I choose the latter, striving to face life’s trials with the faith and determination that can transform even a simple task like rebuilding shelves into something empowering.*

So, with a new resolve, I’ll rebuild the shelves, straighten the guest room, and as Mr. Rourke from “Fantasy Island” would say, “Smiles, everyone, smiles….” Keep smilin’ no matter what comes your way!

The blessings of knowing folks

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Could you imagine a life in which you were totally isolated possibly living in a secluded cabin in the mountains of Alaska or somewhere else?
There are some who would easily find their bliss in that situation. Perhaps, I would be one of those, at least that is the way I feel on some days.
Then something will happen that I realize I am not an island even if I like to consider myself one sometimes.
It could be a more intricate house or car repair that requires the help of a talented friend, or perhaps some unexpected calamity that causes me to be laid up for a bit. Then I realize the importance of my church family or even the real ones.
I think back to the first time I ever found myself needing someone other than my mother and father. I was out riding bikes with my friends, when I ended up with the chain locking up as I was going extremely fast down a paved hill. Next thing I know I am flying across the handle bars and sliding as fast as I could down the paved road until I hit a bunch of garbage cans at the curve of the street. It seemed like a half a mile before I stopped hitting those cans.
Thankfully my friends were able to get me up and the lady whose garbage cans I hit came out to help me. The shirt I was wearing was torn up by the pavement, leaving my torso as well as my legs below my shorts covered with sores.
I was a mess. After I was cover in iodine though, I really looked pitiful and it took quite a while for all those spots to scab over and heal up. So, I was sore for quite a while, and that neighbor and my friends got my bike home and me so where my mom could look me after.
After my father passed away, I found myself thrown into the care of the systems of our family home for my distraught mother. The heating unit went out, and thankfully I had played music with someone who owned a HVAC company who sent out one of his men to take care of things and install a new system at a rate better than any other company would. When the roof started leaking, some music fans who did that kind of work and volunteered to drive about 80 miles to roof our house once again, at a special rate.
While all those good Samaritans who helped me out when I needed it, are gone except for my childhood friends who are lost to the wind mainly, Their gifts to me solidified my faith in knowing that we all survive to the best of our abilities when we create good relationships, make friends, and build a life beyond ourselves and our selfish desires.
It taught me the tools that I needed to also be like those people and help others when I could and sometimes when I really couldn’t, but I tried.
God sees within our hearts and knows when we need help and when we need to help others. I think he sends us folks sometimes so that we can stretch our talents and our personality as we learn to outreach to others.
Throughout my life, he has sent others to uplift me, help me and to change my world when it is needed. I am blessed. I hope that you are. If you are not, open the door, walk outside and find someone to help.

Where do the years go?

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Throughout my life, even in childhood, I was fascinated by time travel.

I watched any movie or TV show associated with the topic. From H.G. Wells “The Time Machine” to the series The Time Tunnel, a short-lived series that I watched in reruns growing up. Even “Fantasy Island” or “Sliders” would occasionally have a show that crossed into history that impacted their story lines.

While these were all a pleasant diversion in my childhood, thinking of being able to augment time in the past or visit the future was always an adventure of hope in my mind.

Changing little things in our life that we did wrong. How would that impact our world today.

We avoided an accident, we bought a winning lottery ticket. We avoided a heartache in our love life.

Would our life be better. Who else would our tweaks impact. Could we go back and save a love one’s life?

So many times, have I imagined making such changes.

I recently had the opportunity to look into faces of people I have known through much of my life.

As I stood next to each, shook and how-deed making small talk, I thought back upon the early natures of our friendships. Where we were then and where we are now. How God had moved our lives in different directions. How we once saw each other with regularity now decades later, if once or twice a year comes to pass, it is unusual. While I often long for those days of old in my mind, we have all moved to different places in life. The years are filled with facial lines, life experiences that have built character, deepened our faith stories, changed our lives and made us different people. Do we still care for one another as we once did?

I would say somewhere within our soul, the once existing connections remain allowing us to find the moments of camaraderie and friendship again as we pass the time of day.

I think about how time has moved so swiftly. Lives have flown through decades, many called home, many others remain and grow where they have set roots.

Is looking back at our past good thing or a bad thing? Is dreaming of time travel to impact the past a good fantasy? Should we be looking back or staring into the future?

I think when you stand in a particular place in life, whether your spend your time looking forward or looking back depends upon your own life. If you have created a wonderful life, raised a family and they are successfully traversing the world, you do tend to focus forward with one’s gaze.

If you are a creator, then you also tend to have a forward outlook seeking that next opportunity to make something new. You keep trying, hoping some invention or idea with bless the future and the world.

If the circumstances have placed you elsewhere in life and you find the future to be less interesting, you spend time looking back.

You cherish the people and the times now behind you. You relish the good times and those who were part of your life. Does looking back uplift you? Do you feel more able to face the day and walk through all that is coming at you?

If the answer is yes, then, whether you look backwards or forwards the exercise is productive for you and thus all you touch as long as you do not forget to live today, in the moment that God is giving you.

You have life in your hands. Every moment, everyday, you can make a difference. Even in the greatest disadvantages, you can impact people for the greater good of us all.

Looking in the past, hoping for the future, dreaming of a day that we know our efforts impacted the world and all those around us for good. That’s my hope for you and for me. As we travel through time, let’s enjoy the ride, we only get one turn on the ride.

Let’s walk forward bravely

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To say I am a patriotic person would probably be an understatement. The American Republic, the American Dream, ideals enshrined in the U.S. Constitution, Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence burn within me.

While its inappropriate for a man to say, I tear up when I hear certain combinations of words that reflect these things. There is music and movies which evoke an emotional response within my soul.

At the bedrock of these feelings is the faith which my family instilled in my life and the blessings that Jesus Christ saved me so I might live a joyful life in Him no matter what I might endure on earth until eternity comes.

Over the last few years, I have seen people like me considered as being out of fashion because a group of revisionists, academics and politicians wish to make America something other than the shining city on the hill.

Well, we just saw a return to an advocacy for being proud to be American. The bullies who would say our ancestors were not exceptional in the legacies they passed to us will now no longer own the sole soapbox of modern viewpoint. Their stories, their successes, their goodness will once again not be erased by the shortcomings that so many wish to point towards.

We gave the blood of hundreds of thousands of men and women to end slavery in our country while it remains alive and well in countries across the world to this day. That is not to say, that there are not those in our country today who are not enslaved within our borders. My prayer is the current administration will free those women, children and men, wherever they are and whomever may be responsible to receive punishment for their actions.

We gave the long-termed toil, suffering and blood of men and women to uplift and enforce the civil rights of people of color, and women.

I can look back upon my family and proudly point to those who participated in these efforts.

I know of at least 19 of my grandfathers who fought to provide this American experiment to exist giving a new level of hope to serfs and slaves around the world.

The future of America has many possibilities. I want to see it last well beyond another 250 years. My people deserve that for their sacrifices.

So, for me watching the inauguration of a president is a moving experience, as it should be. Several of the men who have stood in that spot carry the same blood in their veins that I do as we share ancestral grandparents. Despite that being the case, even if there was no connection, I would still be moved by all that surrounds it.

I pray for our country. I feel there is a great sense of unity which is moving across our land. We see that those that want to divide us by age, education, wealth, color, religion, or other factors, are losing their grip upon our attention. The future of America is in our strength together. It’s America and Americans that should come before any other country or nationality. Before a dime is spent for anything, it should be asked, “How does it help America and Americans?” If it does not, it shouldn’t be spent or sent to anywhere in the world.

Our focus needs to be inward – our country needs to strengthen our infrastructure of all types to last for decades to come. We need to make choices that improve our country and bring it back to success economically. When I was a boy, I watched helplessly as our politicians sold our small towns and true Americans out, as plants across the country closed and jobs went elsewhere. We need to see that reversed enormously. Our focus should extend throughout our hemisphere, much as my ancestral cousin created the Monroe Doctrine, we should once again see our focus in this hemisphere rather than in the fields and deserts of Europe, and the Middle East.

I pray for our leaders as we all should. Their success is our success. Besides a praying America may be better blessed than a country that turns its back upon God. God Bless America, our leaders, our people, our future. Let’s walk forward bravely!