This past week has been a very difficult one for me. I've been trying to push all the tragedy from my mind and work on the .exe series, but my thoughts keep going back to that little girl—running to her father after the gunshot scared her, because he was her safety. She knew she was safe in his arms. And to the wife who now has to raise two babies on her own, because a crazy, vile, evil person didn’t like the opinions that were being said.
The fact that so many in this country are celebrating death—celebrating murder—and then crying online when they rightfully lose their jobs is sickening. Even worse is how others try to gaslight the rest of the country into thinking that celebration isn’t happening, when the revelers are doing it out in the open.
And the “both sides” gaslighting? That’s even worse. It’s not on both sides. It never has been. Last summer in Butler, I was there. I saw what happened with my own eyes. What I heard from the Left pushed me firmly out of their camp—especially when they all came out of the woodwork saying, “We need to turn the temp down,” then the next day went right back to calling anyone and everyone who didn’t align with them Nazis and fascists. That’s not turning the temp down. That’s turning up the gas.
Many years ago, I was between jobs and driving Uber. I picked up Charlie Kirk from Detroit Metro to take him to U of M. I didn’t know much about him, but I knew who he was. I didn’t feel one way or another about him. He asked if we could stop and get lunch on the way, and we went to a Culver’s. He paid for my lunch, told me to keep the ride going, and we sat at a table and talked. We spent an hour just talking—about family, life, work, politics. He asked me about God, and I was honest. I told him about all I had been through, and that I used to be very religious, but through loss—and the feeling of getting punched in the gut over and over by God—I couldn’t trust in any belief. He didn’t judge me. He didn’t tell me I was wrong.
He took my hand and prayed for me. Needless to say, I was very uncomfortable in that moment. Like, “Why the hell would this kid give a crap about his Uber driver?” But he did. He was humble, calm, and had this sense of peace about him. And I wanted that. He enthusiastically encouraged me to get my stories out there. He knew about Echoes of Starlight and Our Love Transcends Time before even my inner circle did.
I can’t say that I’ve gotten my faith back—doubt I ever will. But in the two hours I spent with Kirk, I learned more about myself, and about where I wanted to be, than I had in my entire life leading up to it.
Before I dropped him off at U of M, he handed me a card with his personal email on it—handwritten. Told me to email him when OLTT went live, and he’d be the first to buy it. The day it went up, I emailed him, and less than five minutes later, I had my first sale.
I love my country. I love everyone in it. And I know we can do better. One side is violent. The other side isn’t.
If you’ve ever felt unseen, unheard, or unworthy of grace—know that someone out there might surprise you. They might even buy your book.
Be better. Be brighter. Be kinder. Be Charlie Kirk.