Summer is finally here! The warm sunny days are turning our heads and giving me cause to celebrate. Who doesn’t like a celebration? Fire up the grill or, if you are a more skilled cook, get the coal rolling. I’m not talking about your old antique truck, that workhorse with a NTC Cummins or 1693 Caterpillar, but they too will look really cool in the parade on July 4th, rolling through any town in America, showcasing the Stars and Stripes. 249 years and counting – now that’s really something to stand up and cheer about.
July is the month we celebrate the founding of this great nation, and it’s also a time when all of us should thank God for the many blessings it offers. We are protected by a very old and sacred document, one drawn up by some extremely brave and “noble” subjects of the crown. We often forget the sacrifices they offered up when signing The Declaration of Independence – along with their name, they pledged their fortunes and, most importantly, their sacred honor! That’s something that is greatly misunderstood today.
“Sacred honor” was a staple of yesterday’s civil society – remember one of the 10 commandments said “Honor your mother and your father” – pay your respects to those who serve the greater society. During the earliest days of our country, it was settled by people ruled and represented by a king from a faraway land. I purposely used the phrase “ruled by a king” not “governed as a nation” because the subjects of a kingdom do not have choices, freedoms, or liberties in their lives (not in who they love, what form of work they perform, or where they live). This may come as a shock to a few, but even the food they have to eat is regulated by the Royalty where it was often heard, “The best for me, the rest for thee,” meaning the masses.
When I think of the choices I have had in my lifetime I must remember and give thanks to the men and women who made it possible. This whole experiment called America started with a handful of very smart and generous people who had had enough of the king’s reign. They banded together using their collective power and wealth to overthrow the king’s rule and defeat his standing army. Then, they went to work and formed a new government. One for the people, by the people, and of the people – not to a ruler from far away. This new government and its rules were a collection of the best practices and applications of law to that date. Here in America, anyone can achieve success to the fullest extent of their own personal efforts.
This is the land of opportunity, a place where the roads are paved with prosperity and dreams can be achieved no matter where you called home before. “Americanism” is not a religion or a sect, it’s a mindset – it’s what you believe in your heart and is protected by sovereign borders and a strong military. It’s to fight for the rights of others protected under the principles of our Constitution. The Preamble to the Constitution starts with “We the people of these United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” What followed were the actual laws and rules that our government must still adhere to today.
In the modern era, our military has become the strongest in the world. Not by sheer numbers, but by veracity and might. For more than 50 years we have had an all-volunteer military, much the same as in the time of our independence when everyday citizens, shopkeepers, farmers and anyone else who believed in liberty joined in to extinguish tyranny. That means every one of our current active duty personnel have stood in front of an officer of the court or a military liaison acting on behalf of the commander in chief, our president, and took the oath, “To protect this nation and it’s people from enemies foreign and domestic.” As a United States Marine, I took the same oath, and it does not have an expiration date. I pledged on my Sacred Honor, and as long as I am living, I will uphold that pledge I made so long ago!
Recently, there has been talk and controversy raised over immigration and the people who come to this land to seek a better life. America is a land that welcomes all people who “legally” come here hoping to become an American citizen – that means to assimilate. To blend into the American way of life, not to hold allegiance to their former land or its leaders, but to promote and prosper this land. The process for becoming a legal immigrant is a long and sometimes arduous undertaking when it is done correctly. There is a big, beautiful gate, and the opportunity that awaits is the chance for citizenship. Once granted, all options and “rights” are available to you here as protected by our Constitution.
The only official job title actually mentioned in our US Constitution is the presidency – the top office and leader of the Executive Branch of our government. I believe that is the only job that the Constitution explicitly states the office holder must be a sovereign US-born citizen. Bear in mind, the Constitution was written at a time when the Founding Fathers did not trust foreign-born people and suspected their allegiance. Today, I’m afraid there are people elected to the highest levels of government that we suspect hold their allegiance to the almighty dollar and will knowingly sell out our country for a price!
This month I chose to write about the people who still travel to this land and bring with them skills, pride, and determination. Unless you happen to be a full-blooded native person, please note – those who have ancestors that were from this region before the conquest don’t call themselves “Native Americans” but rather by tribe or family linages. We, or our ancestors, were all foreigners at one time. I often ask myself what it would take to collect up all your worldly belongings, kiss your family goodbye in the old country, and walk away from the only life you have ever known? Then, hop on a plane, walk a great distance, or maybe board a ship, working your way in exchange for passage to a land that speaks a different language, that has unfamiliar foods, and various religious practices and ceremonies.
Earlier in my life, I was shipped overseas for as long as a year, but I also knew when my time was served there I would return home. I know a few people from different corners of the globe who arrived on our shores and went through the complete process of obtaining their citizenship. Every one of them wear their patriotism with pride. They will refer to themselves as an American trucker, an American auto worker, and even an American ditch-digger, always referring to themselves as an American first, not as a hyphenated American. I am reluctant to admit it, but most native born citizens take for granted their true status as Americans. Not only do they not appreciate its significance, but they do not recognize its value, either. They don’t actively promote the greatness of our nation, its endless opportunities, its freedoms, or its available successes.
I was raised at a time when people didn’t travel like they do today. Unless you were sent off to war or served in the military, your chances of meeting foreigners was extremely slim. My first interaction with an outsider or emigrant was in high school when we had a Jamaican family move to the area. I’m reminded of this because Harvey Allen was an extraordinary athlete. Some of his records in track and field still stand today. I remember his father worked at the local dairy farm with my older brother, which was a good thing, since my brother could be a slacker at times, and Mr. Allen worked harder than anyone to make up the difference.
Later, I had an experience with a young driver while I was at Schneider Specialized Carriers who walked from Guatemala to the United States carrying a new pair of shoes. His original shoes wore out on the way, but he saved the new pair for when he went to work at his new job. He had been in this country for five years and was working with a green card. He learned to speak and write English, worked for a big company as a driver, and saved enough money to purchase a truck and lease it to a major carrier. He accomplished more in just five years than most of us will in our lifetime! It was always a good time when we traveled together because he had no fear – every challenge was just another day for him. He never took for granted the opportunity to be in America. I don’t know if he received citizenship, as I lost track of him, but I do know Luis is the type of person America needs – young, strong, resourceful and, above all else, proud to be an American trucker.
July is one of my favorite times of the year – not just because of the parades and fireworks, but because that’s when we see so many towns line their streets with the Red, White and Blue. The Stars and Stripes, Old Glory, the sole mistress of every US soldier, sailor, airman, and marine who entered into conflict. My heart swells with pride when I catch a glimpse of “Her” flowing gracefully in the wind. I served my time under arms many years ago when we were asked to defend this land against the threat of Communism, Socialism and other forms of government that rob its citizens of their freedoms. Any time I hear the National Anthem, I still stop whatever I’m doing and listen and, if possible, I face the flag and let those words soak into my soul. Like so many of us, I have ancestry from Northern Europe, but any time I fill out a form and it asks for my ancestry I check the “other” box and then add “God fearing proud American!”
I would like to give credit to the young man who delivered me to this fine magazine. As a mid-westerner, we didn’t have access to 10-4 Magazine not that many years ago. Our first exposure was through my son and his eye-catching “3fifty9” Peterbilt. We had built it a few years earlier, and Mr. Art Czajkowski followed our build on Facebook. One day while crossing Nebraska, he saw our truck and flipped around to get a photo and ran down the driver. A couple months later, he saw me out there and called me on the phone to see if he could photograph my old “Spirit Chaser” working show truck. At the time it never occurred to me that I would make the pages of this magazine in his monthly contribution called “The Spirit of the American Trucker” – but there I was.
All of us have a story to tell and Mr. Czajkowski’s (or as I like to call him “California”) has one that began in Poland under communist rule. He was granted a work visa through Walmart back then, but that program has since been ceased after being deemed as human trafficking. People migrate to this country for many reasons – with money probably being the most common, along with the chance for a better life, while some simply choose freedom – the right to make choices for themselves and those they love. To fully understand what that means one must first experience the lack of or the loss of your right to choose.
Through my conversations with California, I learned he and his wife were questioned for a great deal of time by immigration personnel as the last stage of their process. He estimated only 10% of applicants make it through to be granted citizenship. Anyone who is lucky enough to meet California will leave with a firm understanding of his resolve – family first, then the love of God and country. I think Mr. and Mrs. Czajkowski have their priorities in order and are truly the kind of people we need in this country to blend and assimilate into the fabric of America. As we walk away from the “woke” programs of the last administration, we need to accept and practice one of Art’s most vehement lessons: “We can talk through any of our differences if we listen to the other side, but first we must talk, never fear them. Fear is a means of control. If you are not afraid, they have no power.”
I’m looking forward to the hot summer nights, cruising the boulevard, chicken lights all ablaze, and chrome reflecting my trucker’s pride as I do one of the most exhilarating and free spirited occupations anyone can do. Why we do it is as different as the people you ask. For some it’s money, while for others it’s the chance to roam without Big Brother looking over your shoulder. Then there’s the free spirit who just has to be free, with no walls to fence them in or ceiling to hold them down. It doesn’t matter what language you speak or where you were born, the American highway is where you feel most alive.
As a young child, every morning, my whole class and I rose, faced the flag, placed our hands over our hearts, and recited the Pledge of Allegiance. If you don’t remember, or maybe you never learned it, I will remind you. “I pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of America. And to the republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” Boy, do I love that! I understand some of our readers will not get to enjoy the Independence Day holiday because the freight must roll. You may be out there hauling the hot dogs, hamburgers and possibly even the grill, so the rest of us can rest, relax, and wave the red, white and blue.
This year, take a few minutes to remember our founders and the sacrifices they made. Their commitments gave us the freedoms that we still enjoy today. And because of that, I will carry a spark of patriotism in my heart. Let that spark start the fire of your celebration! “Give thanks to God and pass the ammunition” was once the battle cry of this nation. So, as always, I will kneel at the cross and stand for the flag when the National Anthem plays, and I will pay tribute to those who make this great life possible. Happy birthday, America!