We Are Not the Generation That Lets This Die

After 250 years of sacrifice, we won’t let apathy be our legacy.

Every once in a while, I feel the need to pull back from the headlines and speak to you plainly—not as a pundit or former congressman, but as a father, a citizen, and someone who still believes this country is worth fighting for.

Let me say it: I know how hard it is to stay engaged in American politics right now. It’s exhausting. The noise is endless. The lies are louder than the truth. And some days, it feels like outrage has become background noise we’ve all learned to tune out. I’ve felt that. There are moments I want to throw my phone into the nearest lake and go live in the woods. I get the temptation to check out—truly, I do.

But I won’t. And if you're reading this, I hope you won’t either.

Because we are part of a much longer story. A story that stretches back 250 years. And in every chapter, there has been a moment when Americans were asked to stand up and defend the ideals of this country, even when those ideals felt far away or under attack. This is our moment.

Our ancestors fought tyrants with muskets, crossed frozen battlefields, ended slavery at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives, stormed beaches in Europe, marched across bridges in Selma. They faced bombs, bullets, and fire hoses—not because it was easy, but because they refused to give up on the promise of America.

Now, let’s be honest. No one’s asking us to do that. We’re not being told to die for democracy. We’re simply being asked to stay engaged. To not go numb. To not scroll past cruelty and corruption like it’s just part of the show.

That doesn’t mean it's easy. Five years ago, I broke with my party to stand up for truth and democracy. And I’ve taken the hits. But even now, what keeps me going—what drags me back when I want to unplug—is the same thing that pulled Americans forward through every crisis: the conviction that this country is still worth the fight.

More than that—my son is worth the fight. One day, he’s going to ask what I did when the country started to unravel. When the liars and bullies began to rise. When some people started treating democracy like a burden instead of a blessing. I want to be able to look him in the eye and say: I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cave. I stayed in the fight.

Because the fastest way to lose a nation is to convince good people it’s already gone. But it’s not. It’s battered and bruised, yes. But it’s still here. And we are the stewards now.

So take breaks when you need them. Step back when it gets heavy. But don’t disappear. Don’t quit. Stay in the fight. Vote. Speak up. Push back against extremism, on the left and the right. Don’t let cynicism do the work of those trying to dismantle this republic.

We are not the generation that lets this die. We are not the ones who hand over our future because it got uncomfortable. Not on my watch. Not for my son. Not for yours.

Because the flame still burns. And I refuse to be the one who lets it go out.