Posted on 10/22/2002 7:13:13 PM PDT by JohnGalt
On Saturday, I, Freeper AKA JohnGalt, Episcopalian American of Irish, English and Welsh dissent is to be married. JohnGalt came to FreeRepublic at the height of the insurgency (counter-insurgency?) of the anti-patriot President William Jefferson Clinton in the Summer of 1997, registered in 2/1998. Having survived government schools and illiberal education at what was then called an elite liberal arts college in New England, he begins a journey that will end in his passing from this earth with a woman of Scottish dissent whom he is blessed only by God’s good graces to have secured for this lengthy journey.
While modern society looks for Hollywood romance in all relationships, the true meaning of this relationship is found deep within the chromosomes. I shall share with you my story, ignore it if it bores you but spare me this indulgence: We both survived the anti-Anglo cultural teachings more fit for the urban European elites in the capitals of Paris and Berlin. Public education lectured us on the dangers of our cultural rights to smoking and drinking while telling us that sex was okay so long as we used ‘protection.’ Rather than reading the many plays of Shakespeare, many hours were spent on AIDS ‘education’ and ‘environmental’ science.
We both attended a small college that recognized that ‘oppression’ of homosexuals and the importance of ‘safe sex.’ Our college was so ‘progressive,’ the first two abortions were covered by the school, thereafter; the cost of an abortion would come out of your own pocket.
Having majored in Europe’s Second Thirty Years War, 1914-1945 and fascinated with the contrarian historians AJP Taylor and Clive Ponting, I discovered very late in my senior year in an introduction to modern philosophy, Albert Nock, which quickly led me to Hayek, Rothbard, and lastly Ayn Rand. While my focus at a liberal arts college was on the novel idea of original thought, I wrote a challenging, if novice, paper on liberty and American political philosophy. I received a C. The professor revealed to me that my ideas were simply out of date and had been thoroughly discredited.
If George Washington, the third richest man in the world at the time he risked it all for these discredited notions of liberty, I certainly could risk a few points of GPA. Thus began my love affair with liberty.
After college I toured my ancestral homelands in Ireland and Wales by train and bicycle. I traveled on to Ypres, Belgium where the local World War One museum coordinator greeted me as a returning hero.
“English?” “American; my great uncle fought at Passchendaele.” “Ahh…that is where the fighting was worst.”
I walked the woods where my Uncle had been gassed in Wilson’s War. He lived to see his younger brother be shipped off for FDR’s War. Most people remember Wilson and FDR; few people remember my Great Uncle. I walked the woods and trenches where Kipling’s son is killed (when they ask why they’ve died, tell them that their fathers lied) , Remarque is injured by shrapnel, and Hitler suffers his own gassing which later leads to his visions of saving the Fatherland.
"If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is forever England."
A trip to Ypres will be a requirement for all my children and grand children. The last of the warrior-poets lay in unmarked graves over the 3 mile salient.
Returning to the United States, the Dole campaign failed to grasp my suddenly radicalized politic. Harry Browne received my vote on the Libertarian ticket. Wanting to better understand my country and culture I hit the road and headed West. If there is any American culture left, that which has not been destroyed by Hollywood and Manhattan or homogenized by chain restaurants, it is in rural America. I settled in Driggs, Idaho, opposite Jackson Hole, and set to write the next Great American novel, as so many had before me. In Driggs, Idaho, the churches were full, the sermons strong; the local farmer plowed your driveway every storm and would not accept a dollar. And the bars stayed open until the morning light with rock n roll bands and wonderful women. There were no police to speak of; every home had firearms—ours four shotguns.
I discovered the Internet: Beachbum’s Clinton Scandal Page, Vince Foster, Chinese Espionage, Matt Drudge and FreeRepublic. In March of ’97, I placed a VISUALIZE IMPEACHMENT bumpersticker on my ’88 Chevy Blazer.
In the early days of my Internet introduction to the fringes of American politics, I was to meet so many folks in weekly chat rooms to discuss philosophy and activist politics. We were libertarians and conservatives and some unrepentant leftists who understood the tools of the Internet better than any. We set out to do the unthinkable, impeach a popular president against insurmountable odds. Culturally, we were all different, much like the forefathers. There were libertines, evangelicals, puritans, and simple forefather enthusiasts who liked beer and football.
I discovered John Ross’s Unintended Consequences, which led me to conclusions on what Waco, Ruby Ridge, and the OKC bombing meant culturally. After attempting to get a job with the American Spectator, I headed to San Diego, where my future bride was doing volunteer work with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, a hopelessly secular Marxist outfit, if I might add. She was living first hand the outcome of the liberal welfare state, and I begged her to quit. She told me that she had committed for a year and would do not such thing. I did not understand at the time.
I returned to Driggs to spend the summer and in the Fall returned to Boston to begin a ‘career’ in something or rather, never having finished the Great American novel but I will give you a hint. Think Billy the Kidd, Ragnar Danneskjöld, Unintended Consequences and cigarette smuggling.
Impeachment had become a full time job. I was a regular fax contributor to Howie Carr’s radio show and using FreeRepublic, broke many a story most famously the article in the New York Observer where Joanna Goldberg reveals that the stained dress is real.
I met with fellow Freepers in Boston to discuss activism, Vince Foster, and alternative plans should the Clinton Administration shut the Internet down. (Newbies have no idea what romance there was back then!)
The Impeachment vote in the House remains the triumph of grassroots Conservatism and the Internet. I doubt any of us shall live to see anything like its kind again. The ’98 election was a crushing blow but I recall posting that evening when we believed all was lost:
"But we in it shall be remember'd; we few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition: and gentlemen in England now a-bed shall think themselves accused they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."
The days would grow darker in the coming weeks, but we won the vote. Save a hopelessly corrupt Senate, we would have pulled off one of the few peaceful coups in the history of man. FR was an almost all encompassing ‘event;’ bigger than life itself. And yet my loved did not abandon me.
Life went on. I moved in, yes, moved in, I was after all a monogamous libertine, with my love and we lived the American cosmopolitan life. Bush was elected soon enough; I had a job with an upstart dot.com and a stock option to boot.
I moved up in the world of the cosmopolitan elite and occasionally met a few fellow traveler in business—Conservatives who recognized that our world view was something to keep out of plain light, say in a closet, if you prefer that metaphor. 9/11 happened; my job soon disappeared.
All the while, these past 6 years, by some miracle, my love stayed with me. She has never cared about material things or money, only that I obey traditional morality (a tough thing for a man of vice as I do love my English Ales, nice cigars, and picking horses at the track) and love her. Finally, I asked her to marry me and I was lucky enough that she accepted. Her father being an Episcopalian Minister, baptized me a few months after the engagement, after I decided to become a Christian. We are to be married Saturday.
So what does it all mean?
The old political structures that defined the post-Industrial Age of the city robbing the countryside have been eclipsed, just as they did when London ruled over the Scottish, Welsh, and Irish people (rent Braveheart, people.) Capital is fleeing the city, the reverse effect of the Industrial Age. While Conservatives lament the loss of capital investment overseas (yes, managerial capitalism still means that free markets are a net positive on the balance sheets—I am not a protectionist but I respect that the consequences to our communities is less measurable) libertarians hope the whole system will come crashing down, though we wish the inevitable violence that will ensue to be kept at a minimum and thus will continue to participate in political debate, as feeble as it might seem.
My love and I will pass on our genes and then grow old. I am less certain today than yesterday that our country will survive. In my heart, I support all secessionist movements and hope that one day, we can all move to a state and pull off the second greatest peaceful upheaval in American History—Impeachment will always be our greatest accomplishment. My love and I shall join the few, the happy few soon enough.
The end to my story is only that my genes overcame the elites concepts of diversity and found a woman who would honor our Anglo-culture and traditions. She tolerated the crap I put her through, for reasons that can only be attributed to her answer on why she would not leave her work in the ghetto:
She committed to me.
Mark Twain is the greatest American writer ever; Lord Fezziwig, the greatest character in English lit, a man to model a life after, even if he lost everything.
God bless us all.
Congratulations, fellow FReeper.
Hey John, join the crowd. Most of us with great women wonder why we are so lucky.
Congratulations, my friend. Wish you many years with a great lady. Damn, sometimes us guys do get lucky.
5.56mm
Garde la Foi, mes amis! Nous nous sommes les sauveurs de la République! Maintenant et Toujours!
(Keep the Faith, my friends! We are the saviors of the Republic! Now and Forever!)
LonePalm, le Républicain du verre cassé (The Broken Glass Republican)
Now that you are making it legal ---- don't lose the magic!
I met you at an early meeting of the New England Chapter of Free Republic in downtown Boston in 1997 at a pub in the financial district. I remember that Elephant was part of it's name. I was the one wearing the NRA hat that attracted all the attention when I rode into town on commuter rail and then took the T to near where we were meeting.
I was posting under another name back then. I'll send you a private Freeper mail. Quarterback at Colby, right?
Again, congratulations.
I would comment on your statement made:
After college I toured my ancestral homelands in Ireland and Wales by train and bicycle. I traveled on to Ypres, Belgium where the local World War One museum coordinator greeted me as a returning hero.
“English?” “American; my great uncle fought at Passchendaele.” “Ahh…that is where the fighting was worst.”
First of all, I have a feeling that your great-uncle knew my grandfather who served there as well. Small world, isn't it?
And, yes, when my husband and I and our 3 kids travelled to this area of France and Belgium, we had much the same response from the locals we saw, in that they were indeed grateful that the Americans "saved" them. I've come to the conclusion that it's the idiot politicians "leading" the French government who are the stupid and clueless ones, trying to appease Saddam and the Iraqis. The average citizen understands the threat and would wish for us, the Americans (yes, once again), to deal with the threat - head on.
Oh, oh, oh, now that is funny my Dear Exit148. Ya never lose the magic sweet, if it's right.
That was one of the highlights of my life, and the highlight in the life of FreeRepublic. Then Trent Lott conspires with the enemy and sabotages the ironclad case built by those courageous House Managers and patriot Democrat David Schippers.
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