"Don't call it a comeback"

I wrote a three page prelude to this post, then the author told me he wanted to be kept anonymous.
I think the world ought to know the story of our friendship and the day we met, but I will comply. 
I wonder, does anyone else agree with this fella? America's best days are ahead of us? 
I do. 
Maybe I'm too optimistic for my own good, but I'm glad I'm not the only one. 




“The decline of our nation is inevitable.” If I believed that, I would have moved to Thailand after graduating college and never looked back. Instead, over the course of two years I went from being an idealistic, naïve Economics major at the University of Texas to a *somewhat* salted Naval officer coming home from eight-and-a-half months of delivering ordinance to the largest Islamic terrorist network the world has known. However, I’m coming back to a nation seemingly closer to the brink than it’s been in a generation. Racial turmoil; an election asking us to choose the lesser of evils; a federal government in complete gridlock. When we talk about the future of America, you see the polls reflect a citizenry devoid of hope. The vast majority now believe that the US’s best days are behind it, and when looking for the next president, it often feels like many are doing little more than trying to choose the best person to manage the decline. Of course, our politicians do little to quell this feeling. Until recently, most referred to the US in relative terms, explaining that we needed to share the “world stage” with others as our hegemonic status slowly dissolved and gave way to the new giants; BRICS. However, to say Americans are ready to give up on their nation is to ignore the movement Trump has begun. Like him or hate him, “Make America great again” has sparked a movement. It’s a movement of people tired of hearing how we’re losing on the world stage and within our own borders, and ready to take back what should be the goal of every sovereign – their right to strive for greatness. Do I think Trump is the answer for America? Actually, it’s irrelevant, because what gives me hope isn’t the man, it’s the people. Our people can still hope. They still want to believe. They want to have pride, and patriotism, and they want to be the best. The problem isn’t the people. It’s that the embers of their belief haven’t been stoked in so long. If a message as simple as “Make America great again” can produce such wide results, can we even imagine what actual ACTION would do? The moon landing spurred a nationalistic faith in our abilities as Americans to come together and do something great that’s so inspiring we continue to make films about every aspect of its production. “The decline of our nation is inevitable.” It was a sentence spoken by one of my fellow officers on the bridge of our ship recently while underway. I was Officer of the Deck, and we were getting pretty philosophical (as one is wont to do after eight months of conversing with the same people non-stop). I explained I believed America’s best days could very well be in front of it; she was less optimistic. In the tradition of the British, Spanish, Romans, Greeks, Phoenicians, and Egyptians before them, she saw what’s happening as the inevitability of a nation as powerful as ours. We’re spread too thin, the people are undereducated and overexcited, and no one really cares anymore. But she’s wrong, and the proof was there in front of her. Because I’m here. And so is she. And so are all 300 of these men who have sacrificed so much to defend their nation and wipe out evil so far from home. The story of Sodom and Gomorrah is well-known. God has given up on two major cities that have been overrun by their sinful natures. In a desperate attempt to spare the city of Sodom, in which his nephew Lot resides with his family, Abraham asks God if He will spare the city if just ten righteous people can be found within its borders. God agrees to spare the people of Sodom if only ten good people can be found. If a city can be saved from God’s wrath by ten, then I see no reason to doubt our nation’s own resilience. As long as I’m alive, evil hasn’t won. As long as I have hope, the embers aren’t dead. As long as I fight, the shadows can’t overcome. As long as I’m here, you don’t have to worry about America slipping into the abyss; because even in my lowly position, I promise to do everything I can to stop it. …but I sure wouldn’t mind a little help.

Strings

Every now and then the military world gets a nod. When a new movie debuts our world gets a sympathetic look of empathy, people try to understand us for a moment. Then, a Kardashian posts a new selfie. A Medal of Honor recipient retains a solid fifteen minutes of acclaim and then Kanye tweets. It's a cycle, but for most of us these moments don't fleet and they don't fade. Several of us connect and can't forget. An airport means coming and going, which means so much more than coming and going. A flag at half mass means twenty-one guns for you, and then somehow it gets really really beautiful. Transcendent, really. When someone asks for a photo ID, you feel yourself flashing them a peek at your whole life. You basically say, "here is a layer of my skin, look". These moments come and they stay, they stick to your bones and they cover your ID card with layer upon layer of memoirs. It's more than a viral photograph of a young child clinging to a uniformed soldier, it's the sixteen times you were the child in the photograph. It's hard to relate to the people that don't hold these memories in heavy arms at all times. I think it's okay to love but I also think its okay to leave. Like Tim McGraw recently crooned, "Don't take for granted the love this life gives you. When you get where you're going, don't forget turn back around, and help the next one in line". 

"This is for the people who find it difficult to leave, whether that is to leave people or places. This is for the people like me, that build homes out of everything we touch. Every inch of skin, every page in a book, every stranger's kiss. This is for the people who wear their hearts on their sleeves, and on their lips, and for those that carry it in the palms of their hands. This is for the girl with a hundred strings tied to her, tugging her in every direction except forward. This is for you. This is for me. We are nomads who find homes that temporarily house our hearts, we are travelers that never leave our home towns. This is for those who are afraid to cut the strings, for the people who are afraid to leave the places that our hearts have grown so comfortable in. Cut the threads, set yourself free. We'll find new places, we'll find new homes. " (a.y)

Don't forget. Turn back around. Thanks Tim McGraw for acknowledging that it's okay to "get where you're going", to cut the "strings" finding new places and new homes, but its also okay to not forget and turn back around. It's the military way of life, to jam your memory bank with old and new. The idea of jumping back in time while facing forward, it's an honor. It's almost like when they were inventing military brats, they said "Here, juggle this foreign thing. Wait, check out this brand new thing. Hey, what about me? What's your name? Open this box full of memories in this clean blank slate room. Know your phone number, then your other number. Remember when..? Will you be here like you were last time?" It's like we find tragedy in leaving and tragedy in staying, until we realize it's not tragedy it's love. We love what we are leaving and we will love what is coming. I don't predict the future, but what is coming eventually becomes what we are leaving. I say we cut those strings, but we double knot tie them to a really safe strong tree.