America At 250, Part II

July 4, 2076

Dear Max,

45 years ago today, I wrote down a promise to myself: no matter what happens to this country, I’d never leave it. Have I remained true to that promise?

The answer: yes. I’m still here. But what a wild ride it was! I hate to say this, but it all did go by fast. Time slows down for nobody. As the saying goes, the days were long, but the years flew by. So right off the bat, if there’s anything I can tell my past self, it’s this: slow it down. The end comes for all of us.

It’ll come for America, too. But don’t worry - as I’m writing this, our homeland still exists. It’s unrecognizable, yes. To you in 2026, certainly. But it’s still home. And that’s all that matters. When people ask me today why I love the United States, it’s because it’s my home. Not because of ideas or any of that silliness. America’s a place I can call my own. Back in your day, people forgot what that meant - to have a place to call your own.

Looking back on it, I think that was part of the problem. America never felt like home for so many millions of people. Part of the reason is that many voices, some well-meaning, others not so, influenced us into thinking it could never be our home because, well, it’s the world’s home. If it’s the world’s home, it’s not really anyone’s home, is it? Your time was defined by lots of ideas that sounded perfectly innocent in theory, but were utterly nonsensical in practice.

If I have any advice for you, it’s this: never stop treating America like its your home. As someone who traveled the world over in all my soon-to-be 90 years, I can tell you one constant in lands near and far is that people with far less riches than us treasure the one place they call home, that they call their own, above all other things. Some of the greatest tragedies throughout history were the result of people being dispossessed, being forced off lands they considered home. America is guilty of this as well, though it’s also a fact that we’ve done more to make it even than other great powers of history. That’s another lesson looking back on it all: doing the right thing doesn’t matter if the other side is seeks vengeance.

Times will be tough. History really is a tale of nothing happening, then everything happening at once. And boy, did everything happen at once. So just remember one thing: you cannot control history. But you can control your own life. Come what may, keep your home in order. I wish I could tell you the kinds of troubles you face up the road, but not only am I still making sense of it all, you did it right. You did it all right, in the end. So I don’t want to say anything that might change that.

Unfortunately, you’ll lose people along the way. Including those whom you know and love. But many will make it, also. You’ll also be disheartened to learn that many of your friends will, in fact, not be your friends when it’s all said and done. Again, don’t despair. Not only will you make new friends along the way, you’ll find love, also. I know it all seems hard to believe. But if none of it happens, would I be here to tell you that it did?

I don’t think I need to tell you this either, but remember to never let politics define who you are. That was a big aspect of our undoing. We let it seep into every little crevice, despite so many courageous voices warning us of the consequences. It still disturbs me to this day thinking about how seemingly wonderful people turn into vicious demons when it all hit the fan. That’s what politics does to a person when it becomes the essence of everything they are.

The hardest part had nothing to do with anyone trying to kill you. It was the non-stop deluge of indoctrination and propaganda, the never-ending attempts to erase our past and re-write a new history. Again, I won’t tell you how we resisted it. I’m not even sure we did. It feels more like we came to terms with our enemies, in the end. But I can assure you: total victory wasn’t theirs. That means something.

Still, there was no “retvrning,” no grand restoration, no real finding ourselves again. I know that’s disappointing, but again, history isn’t our to write. The greatest blessing of all is to have a home and to live one more day. And we all got to live many more days. Most of us, anyway. So don’t get to fixated on who “wins” when it’s all said and done, because the reality is, everyone ended up losing something important.

I can tell you there aren’t many of people out there who truly feel like they emerged victorious. America was a nation of axe-grinders back your day; it still sort of is in mine. There are a lot of people out there who still think this country owes them something, that this country took something from them. It says something that even they’re still here, however.

Which leads to my message for all immigrants, minorities, foreigners, and anyone who aspires to come to America: you want to be part of something great. In some cases, you want to make it your own. I get it. So just remember - you may think you’re indispensable now, but nobody’s irreplaceable. If the people who built this country can be replaced, so can you.

And once you’ve taken over this country, there will inevitably be a group that comes along who wants to take it from you. I assure you, you won’t like the feeling of it, nor will you have a single magnanimous bone in your body when that moment comes. By then, those who protected your rights, who allowed you to be part of something bigger and better, will no longer be around. I wish you luck. May you hold out better than those whom you replaced.

That’s the toughest pill to swallow - that one day, we won’t be here, that one day, all this could very well belong to someone else, someone to whom our history, our legacy, our sacrifices, mean absolutely nothing. I think that’s the most productive change that came out of all this: in my time, more people are cognizant of the fact that nothing in life is permanent. We paid a big price to learn this lesson. But it had to be learned. I think we’re all better off for it.

I don’t know how long we’ve got. I don’t know how much time I’ve got. All I know is we’re still here. That’s no small thing. And I know that in 300 years, there’s only one place in this world that I’d ever call home, and I’d pick it every time. I felt that way then, I feel that way now.

Anyway, I hate spoilers, and I’m rambling at this point, but I thought it might not be a bad idea to tell you how it all turns out, in case you start having second thoughts or lose hope. I sure hope you don’t - otherwise, I wouldn’t be here to write to my past self! Time to get out there and watch the World Cup - too bad USA isn’t playing today! Enjoy these moments every time you can, they don’t come as often as you think. Don’t forget to call Mom! Next time you see her, give her a hug and a kiss for me, will you? If there’s anything I miss from your time, it’s her.

Enough of this. Go on and enjoy yourself. There’s a not-insignificant chance I won’t be around to write to you on our country’s 310th birthday, so I want you to know, before it’s too late, that I’m praying for my past self. I hope you’ll pray for your future self and that you’ll get here when you can, if not too soon, in one piece.

Above all, pray for our family, our community, and our country. Past, present, and future.

Happy Independence Day. Here’s to 300, here’s to 300 more.