October was the month most of America celebrated Halloween. That joyous day when kids dress up as ghosts and goblins to threaten the neighbors with tricks if they don’t get treats. This year I threatened to dress up as a truck driver and visit my broker’s office in hopes of receiving bags of cash for my efforts. Well, that didn’t happen, so I can’t be held responsible for what might have happened on Devils Night! Don’t you wish trucking was that easy.
I believe I saw a few of you drivers roaming around the truck stop wearing costumes. I’m sure someone out there wore that dreaded “Trucker’s Dream” costume – you know, the pink Tutu with cowboy boots and a magic wand. But instead of collecting cash in their bag of goodies, the best they might have hoped for was to collect some fairy dust and unicorn powder. I have heard that’s the stuff the big strappers use to power their raging beasts and keep those 18 wheels rolling these days. That may be a little mean spirited, but October is now behind us, and we’ve moved on to November.
As always, I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving – and hunting season. The White Tail deer is king in the Midwest, and venison is the nectar of heaven. When I’m not in the woods or on my deer stand I, like so many of us, have placed my faith in an industry that is run by the few who have turned its back on the working men and women behind the wheel. The heart and soul of this nation is rolling at full speed ahead down life’s superhighway. Drivers deliver the goods needed to all points west of the Atlantic, east of the Pacific Ocean, and through every small town or village along the way, powered not by ambition, but by necessity. What may have started as a dream has descended into a revolving door of fear, with the entrances and exits leading to the same house of horrors.
Normally, I write in a positive vane or shine light in the darkest of corners. My purpose is to bring hope to those who may need support in a time of crisis. Have no fear, this month is not the exception, even if last month I dressed up in the darkest of costumes and mocked the absurdity of our own demise, I will still make light of the situation and work to help others find their place.
Many of us attended a celebration of fright night within the last few days, and some of you may still be traumatized by the experience. Some may have even paid good money to see the wonders of a haunted house and roam the rooms of terror until they fled in disbelief, all the while knowing it was not real, but still shocked by the reality of it.
This is a great time to get to the subject of this month’s theme. October was the month we recognized Devil’s Night (October 31st) or the celebration of the obscure. In reality, we have 364 other days of the year when we devote our time to living a better life, or at least to understanding the reasons for trying to make our life and our family’s lives easier. I titled this month’s article “Faith From the Foxhole” for a reason. I’m reminded of it because it was 50 years ago last month that I transitioned from unemployed student to Marine Corps recruit. That was a traumatic experience, but one that set my feet on the road to where I am today.
To the younger readers who may not be familiar with the whole “foxhole” analogy, you first need to understand where the idea came from. To all my brothers and sisters in arms, past or present, I need not explain to you the importance of this symbolism. First, what is a foxhole? I’m not referring to the den of that bushy-tailed oversized rodent, but that is where the idea came from. I often walk in the early mornings about the time the sun rises. My strolls take me down a hedge line of trees along the river in front of my home. This area is home to many forms of wildlife, most of which don’t want to be seen or hunted. Whether it’s the deer who bed down amongst the low hanging branches or the rabbits that burrow beneath the thick foliage, they keep a constant vigil. It’s the protection of their camouflage that keeps them safe.
This message goes out to all my Marine Corps and Army buddies, all of which are well versed on the use of and the importance of an “E-Tool” (I’m not forgetting the Air Force or the Navy, but it is difficult to dig many holes on the deck of a ship or the floor of a plane). Probably the most significant thing every “Field Grunt” has in his possession when facing an enemy, next to the weapon or firearm that protects him, is the E-tool (entrenching tool). To the non-believer, it’s hard to imagine a single piece of equipment that can rally the morale of threatening forces faster when faced with possible destruction. The same tool (which is a folding shovel) is often used to dig the latrine (temporary restroom in the wild), to chop away unwanted brush when clearing a field of fire down range, and yes, to scrap a burrow large enough to use as a protective mound or rampart from incoming rounds from a foe.
The depression left is not a scar upon the earth, but a rallying cry for those who will follow in battles yet to happen. It is the signature of those who paid a price for our freedoms. Most foxholes are no larger than the men who dug them. In many cases, the deeper the depression, the longer the time it was occupied. They doubled as their bed, their mess hall (the place military people eat), and in the most extreme of cases, the place they gave their all. To every soldier, sailor, airman, and marine we owe a debt that cannot be repaid. Now comes the hard part – connecting my military experience to trucking.
In the most recent past, we have seen violence erupt in the streets, on college campuses, and in the very places we conduct our business. This vile example is being done by the very same people who are too scared to volunteer for military service. They claim to be the ones who are protecting democracy, but they are the ones most responsible for its demise. Like the rabbits on my walk, they run and hide at the first sign of any resistance and take pot shots at the peaceful and unsuspecting opposition from a hidden point of security. This is a cowardly act and not one representative of valor. On a battlefield, the opposition is clearly marked and the “rules of engagement” are well defined. But these sinister and cowardly acts, perpetrated by those who openly use the protection of law to cover their actions, are despicable and need to be prosecuted.
Regardless of your personal stance on the man who was gunned down in Utah, you must admit murder is wrong. To take the law into your own hands is evil, and to kill someone in hopes of silencing their voice is not progress, it is representative of the worst in mankind. Charlie Kirk was such a man – one who spoke his mind, but also allowed his opponents to have their say, as well. He professed his faith in God and his belief in the foundation of family. An open mic with dialogue is the best way to honor your ideas.
There will be some who simply cannot except ideas counter to their own, and they will continue to spread mistruths and, in some cases, outright lies. That hatred will harden their heart to the point of validating the killer and heap praise on the worthless soul who pulled the trigger. I must state for the record I followed Charlie Kirk for some time and found his message to be very inspiring – it caused me to question my place and purpose in this life. His belief in the Christian values and faith, along with his devotion to family, were his most enduring characteristics.
Much of America is praying for Charlie’s family regardless of their viewpoint. We often offer up the words “we will keep you in our thoughts and prayers” but what does that mean? Do we really stop what we are doing and lift our thoughts to heaven as we bow our heads in reverence, or do we just give lip service to be polite? Recently, I have been reminded of my time in the corps and, more importantly, my time “over there” in a foreign land. My generation was sent to the Far East and all points along the coast from Russia south to the South China Sea. It was there I learned to really pray. From a point of necessity, fear was a constant companion, and one we never fully overcame.
Fear is not a sign of cowardice or failure, it is a normal reaction to anxiety due to your inability to see the future, much the same as many who read this article have when living and/or working on the road. The fear of failure, of missing the next payment, or of not witnessing the growth of your family are all real, along with the anxiety these fears create. It is the most devastating emotion we witness. Anxiety, along with depression, are constantly controlling our emotions. It is ever present on my mind, as I know how dangerous these two emotions can be. “Lord grant me the strength to understand my situation, to overcome my desires, and to not destroy what opposes me.”
Fast forward to 2025. I am no longer in the jungles over there, but I still must navigate the urban jungles here. That same struggle for survival persists every day as we thread our way through the streets of disappointment, disillusion, and depression. What may have started as a dream for some can – and in some cases has – descended into the fight of a lifetime. We as drivers leave much of ourselves on the highway. The very vehicle we are so proud to drive has become our personal haunted house. The revolving driver’s door is one we can’t seem to stop from opening. Yes, trucking is a revolving door, with the up and down cycles of the economy, and people jumping in and out, leaving huge gaps of opportunity and despair.
Somewhere along the way, our cabs have become the new “foxhole” for those of us who continue to fight for the cause. It is the metal sanctuary for our faith – the private place we love, laugh, and even cry. Yes, the strongest of grown men have shed tears when no one is watching. But, more importantly, it is the place we pray for strength, forgiveness, and peace of mind. I have joked over the years that I’m a Peterbilt Presbyterian, and I know some Kenworth Katholics, maybe even a few Mack Methodists, but in reality, most Americans are Christians by faith, regardless of our preferences to brand. If by chance you are some other faith or following, wonderful, here in America you are free to worship as you choose. No one has the right to interfere with you or your exercise of faith. These constitutional provisions are protected by the same men and women who shelter in foxholes around the world.
There was once a time when it was common to see a driver pray over his food at truck stops. Today, not so much, as many hide or shelter their connection to a greater cause. I would ask, “Why? Is it because you are embarrassed to be recognized as faithful, or do you fear retribution from those around you who may be offended? And it’s not just the Christians – there are seven big religions in the world today, and most display or openly perform acts of thanksgiving and praise to these faiths in their daily lives. Are you one, or do you cower like the beggar, afraid to risk exposure should you fail to live up to the standards set by society? Do you find yourself only looking to a higher authority when in times of crisis? “Jesus take the wheel!” Like that soldier in a foxhole, we must believe what we are doing is righteous, redeemable, and vital for our survival.
I find in my personal life I fight most battles behind the wheel, so it is only reasonable to assume that’s my foxhole. The windshield is my rampart, and I take all enemies head on. Yes, I also consider that hood to be my altar and the place I leave troubles too big or important for me to handle alone. It is also the place where I witness life’s glory and all the wonders of His hand. Every sunrise gives me hope and every sunset gives me confirmation of His promise. Through the worst of storms, I hold the wheel firmly, knowing I’m not alone. I am guided by a power greater than my own abilities. Through the times of darkness, my path is lit, and even though the shadows of doubt hide unseen fears, I will fear not!
I have told a story many times of how me and that old truck have scared the hell out of more people than the greatest evangelist. What has, at times, trapped me like a haunted house and scared me more than goblins of another realm, also reminds me that I am just a small part of this vast world. However, my might is found in actions freely given to others. Through protection, through information, and through friendships, I receive the greatest gift – forgiveness! It is what keeps me from turning my sanctuary into a house of horrors. It prepares me for a life in the light of our Lord, traveling on streets of gold, and not cast into darkness. It is where I give thanks for all the blessings I receive, not a place where goblins roam.
I often wonder if the currencies of the afterlife are gathered and granted by acts of kindness and forgiven aggressions in this life. Will I be rich or just another poor sinner once again? Don’t be blinded by one night’s celebration. Be vigilant every night and stand watch over your own Devil’s Night. Protect all the little ghosts and goblins as they return back to their normal loving selves powered by mounds of sugar-infused treats. Make this month a season of thanksgiving, of joyous and safe festivities. Remember, you rule the road, and your actions affect others more than yourself, so be their eyes, their ears, and their faithful soldier in the foxhole, 10-4!