Feed on
Posts
Comments

Ray tells of a time in America that will, soon enough, seem like the ravings of a fantasist to our future Woke Americans who can’t conceive of such a heaven on earth.

I was born in the late fifties into the same small Kansas town where my mother and father grew up. My grandparents all lived in that same town. Everyone was basically German, with a smattering of other northern European ethnicities thrown into the mix. The Main Street had everything anyone could possibly need to buy, from groceries to hardware. There were several Protestant churches that were always packed on Sundays, and one Catholic church on the edge of town, as well. There was no crime to speak of… we had one policeman, who spent most of his time bringing groceries to shut-ins. (He was a friend of my father’s, and my dad would joke about it.) We kids (and there were tons of us!) were outside from sun up to sun down, playing and fishing and riding bikes and building things. Every family had a garden out back, and sometimes a small orchard, and some folks raised a steer for winter beef, or kept chickens. That was in town! Every holiday was an opportunity for everyone in the family to get together and have some fun and good food. It was a warm, safe, sunny, idyllic way to grow up.

That all began to change in the seventies. People became much more materialistic, thanks in part to Mom taking a job outside the home and having all that extra cash. The new color television encouraged people to buy buy buy. Parents began divorcing and all my friends’ families disintegrated. People began staying inside from sun up to sun down. Where were all the kids? Inside, playing those new video games! The gardens went to weeds.The first black family moved into town. Hey, where’s my bike?

After college, I moved to another state for a job. When I returned home for a funeral last summer, I didn’t recognize the place. It was like that scene from “It’s a Wonderful Life,” when George Bailey gets to see what his small town was like without him in it. The streets had all been widened, there were cars everywhere, and the town had become mile after mile of shopping and fast food joints. Main Street was dead and boarded up. There was a new GIGANTIC shopping Mall, though. It had been built on top of the land where my grandparents’ farm had been.

I sat at a table outside of one of the Mall’s restaurants, sipping a coffee and watching the people as they came and went. Most were fat, poorly dressed, and had a generally unhealthy appearance. They all looked so sad and stressed.

I thought of that YouTube video “Never Forget,” showing archival footage of daily life in a small town in South Dakota in 1938. A town filled with happy, healthy, well-dressed people. My home town used to be that way, too.

But now it is gone. The modern way of life is a curse, for sure.

I want you to listen to this song while you read Ray’s story:

You’ll be reminded of your ancestral spirit, long dormant, now awakened. Allow that feeling to energize you. A reckoning is coming.

I think this is the video about 1938 South Dakota which Ray referenced:

Something’s missing. Where are the fat women?

The diversity?

The poz?

So strange, this faraway land.

***

Commenter realone fast forwards to the present day, when he stumbled onto a rift in the time-space continuum, and for a brief moment that faded, beautiful America appeared in front of him, crystal clear, and he was inspired by it.

I was traveling in a very blue part of a very blue state recently. I popped into a McDonalds to grab some coffee and take a break. I was up at the counter when two little girls ran up. The older girl was likely big sister and asked for something like extra ketchup or napkins. The younger girl was an adorable White brunette, maybe about four years old.

The younger girl said “I want orange juice.”

She wasn’t whiny or complaining in her voice or the way she was standing. She wasn’t demanding. She was simply stating.

Something struck me to my very core, to my heart. I walked up to the teller and said “give her the orange juice, and I will pay for it.”

The mystery meat teller looked at me with a blank stare like he didn’t understand what I was saying. I repeated myself. A manager looking type (young White woman) came over as I repeated again that I would pay for an orange juice for the little girl. The manager looked at me, looked at the precious little girl and then went and poured an orange juice. She signaled to me that I didn’t need to pay and gave it to the little girl who said “thank you” and scampered off.

Later I reflected why I had ordered the teller to give the little girl an orange juice and offered to pay. I came to the conclusion that what I saw in that little girl at that moment in time was a radiating innocence that resonated with me. I have also felt a profound sadness from knowing that the little White girl’s innocence was transitory, and that it would most likely be ripped away from her by brutish others because of the “diversity” in that area.

The greater point is that, while (((they))) may have pathologized and preyed on our White altruism, our greatest weakness could be turned into our greatest strength.

Properly harnessed, White altruism for our own people, and only our own people, is an awesome power. No wonder (((they))) have corrupted it. I recently got a small taste of what it is to love our own altruistically.

Hate will be necessary. Hate for what has been taken from us and to the constant offenses and harms placed upon our people. But I don’t think Hate will be enough. Hate will only take us so far. We need to regain and purify our altruism, our capacity for Love of our own people and reforge our ethos with Love for our own and Hate for the other who would do us harm.

It seems such a small and insignificant thing, if you weren’t there you might call it trivial, but it wasn’t to me. It was like finding a sunflower in a brown and black wasteland, a breath of fresh air in a polluted sky, carefree days riding bicycles with your friends from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m in a bygone time.

I Hate (((them))) for what (((they))) have done to us, but I LOVE our people, and our ways, and the innocence of our White children.

Hate is as natural as love.

Hate protects the things we love from that which would destroy it.

To never feel hate is to never know the fullness of love.

To feel hate only for those who protect what’s loved is the center of evil.

Advertisements

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: