I’m the youngest of 8 homeschooled kids. There were no video games in my house, and we weren’t allowed to watch more than an hour of TV a day. So when you’re a young, energetic child, and there isn’t a machine to entertain you, you have to get creative with your fun. You have to make swords out of limbs, guns out of hockey sticks, and spears out of bamboo. The focus of my childhood was trying to be, in dress and in action, like the characters I read about in my history books. One special character was Paul Revere. I would go around everywhere wearing baseball pants and women’s stockings. I made my own tricorn hat. I used to walk around town in full regalia, and when sweet little old lady’s asked me how the school play went, I laughed and eagerly told them how I wasn’t in a play, I was just homeschooled. I found a replica of a flintlock pistol at a yard sale and bought it for three dollars. It became my most-loved possession. I would go outside and pretend to locate George Washington’s camp and deliver messages between him and his generals right before the gunshot heard clear ‘round the world. I would run around my yard galloping on my imaginary horse, warning every ear listening that “THE BRITISH ARE COMING, THE BRITISH ARE COMING.” The midnight ride had been the apex of legends in my estimation ever since my dad sat me down one Independence Day and read Longfellow’s “Paul Revere’s Ride.” I listened over a dozen times to the Adventures in Odyssey episode about Paul Revere. I read two of his biographies. I loved Paul Revere. I loved that he was a good man, and a good worker. But more than all that, I loved that he broke the law to do what was right. I loved that he planned and schemed to bring down an unjust and cruel government. I loved that he got on his horse and let the whole world know where his allegiance lied. I loved even though he put a death sentence on his head with that ride, he was more interested in the good of his fellow citizens and patriots than he was about himself. I look around at the people I know today, and I am hard-pressed to find men like my hero, Paul Revere. There are definitely a few, but most of them are older gentlemen. I am concerned about my generation. I see guys all around me at UF who don’t have strong convictions. Heck, some of them lack conviction completely. I see men who will fold faster than Superman on laundry day if it suits their interests. I see lazy, disrespectful men. I see men who, if it came down to it, I wouldn’t trust to have my back. I fear that America has gone from being the underdog with a strong sense of morality, conviction, and passion, to being the world power with loose morality whose men are apathetic and self-absorbed (Ring a bell, King George?). There is a different fiber in men today, and it is weak. I fear that when tested it will easily tear. Note that I’m speaking in generalities. I am fully aware that there are still great men, but the point I am making is that what used to be the rule has become the exception. The hope I hold for myself and for my peers is from Proverbs 13:20, which says, “Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” I’m surrounding myself with great, God-fearing men; the Paul Reveres of my generation. I’m learning from older men who have strong convictions and who are passionate people. I want to make sure there is a strong, clean handoff of the baton from my father to me. I want to have a backbone and a fire in my eyes. I want to be like Jesus, Dad, and Paul Revere.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Jul 2013 06:10:09 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015