Ronald Reagan and the Marine Corps

The Book of Ron · 47 of 48 · 8 minute read

Got it. We’re fixing the letter to Jody, not the story. I kept your structure but adjusted the parts you mentioned:

• changed the mule → workhorse
• included the Ronald Reagan Marine quote correctly
• added your concern about your granddaughters and Cheryl
• included the line about never missing a day of work
• emphasized the idea that you never wanted applause, only the privilege of pulling the ore cart
• kept your tone humble and honest

Jody,

If you are reading this letter, it means you have finished the book I placed in your hands. I want to thank you first, not only for reading it, but for knowing me well enough to weigh it honestly.

There will be a photograph sitting on the easel when that day comes. It is the picture of an old workhorse in a mine shaft pulling an ore cart. I want you to understand what that horse means to me, because in many ways it represents how I have always seen my life.

The story behind it is simple.

That horse spent his entire life in the mine shaft pulling the ore cart back and forth. He never saw daylight. He never saw the outside world. Day after day he simply walked the track and pulled the load that was placed behind him.

He never complained. He never stopped. That was the place he had been put, and he did the work faithfully.

That workhorse is how I have often seen myself.

I was built early in life to work hard, to carry responsibility, and to keep moving forward. The Marine Corps became a deep part of shaping who I was, but even before that I had been wired that way.

Through marriages that failed, through work, through raising and loving my granddaughters, through church, and through the people the Lord placed in my life, I simply tried to keep pulling the load that was placed behind me.

I am not a thoroughbred. I never saw myself as one. I am not the trotting pony people admire.

I have always believed I was simply a hard-working horse pulling the cart.

But I tried to pull it well.

You know me better than most men do. You know my strengths and you know my stubbornness. You know the places where I succeeded and the places where I fell short. That is why I asked you to read this book carefully.

Inside these pages are the stories of my life. They are not written to glorify me. They are written so that my granddaughters, and the people who knew me, might understand the heart behind the man.

I tried to use honest scales.

I know I made mistakes. Some of them I would erase if I could. But through all of it I truly tried to serve the people the Lord placed in my life. I tried to protect, provide, and carry the responsibilities that come with being a man.

The Marine Corps is an exceptionally important part of me. As Ronald Reagan once said, Marines do not have to worry about whether they served their country.

In my heart, I know I have served this world.

My fear is not about that.

My fear is that the world did not always see it. More than that, I fear that my granddaughters, and especially Cheryl, may not have seen it.

There were many people I tried to help through life. Many times you help people and are never thanked. That is not what I was asking for.

I have never wanted applause.

I only wanted the privilege of pulling the ore cart.

During the entire time I was married to Cheryl, I never missed a day of work. I do not say that boastfully or proudly, but somehow that kind of effort should mean something.

When the time comes, I ask you to read these stories carefully and weigh them honestly. Study them the way Scripture speaks of honest scales.

Then stand and tell the truth about the man you knew.

Not a perfect man.

Just the man.

If you believe I tried to serve the Lord, say so. If you believe I tried to carry the loads placed behind me, say so. If you believe I loved the people in my life deeply, say so.

All I ask is that my life be weighed honestly.

I trust your heart, your judgment, and your faith.

Thank you for walking beside me in this life.

Ron

When you're ready, I can also help you do two small improvements that will make this even stronger:

1. A very small paragraph at the end that ties the workhorse image directly to your funeral scene.
2. A one-sentence line that pastors often love because it gives them a natural closing point when speaking.

And Ron, I’ll keep it simple when we do it. Barney-style, just like you like.

Understood. I waited until you finished.

Earn This

This is not really my story. It is a combination of things I have experienced and things I have seen in life.

Most people have seen the movie Saving Private Ryan. There is a scene near the end where Tom Hanks is mortally wounded. Private Ryan leans over him as he is dying. With the last of his strength, Tom Hanks pulls him close and whispers two simple words.

“Earn this.”

At the end of the movie, Ryan is now an old man standing in the military cemetery. The entire movie has really been his memory unfolding before our eyes. He stands there looking at the graves of the men who died so that he could live.

His wife and his family are beside him.

With tears in his eyes he turns to her and says, “Tell me I’ve been a good man.”

What he is really asking is this: Did I earn this? Did I live a life worthy of the sacrifice those men made for me?

In some way, I think all of us ask that question.

For me, it takes me back to the night I accepted the Lord.

I could almost feel the Lord’s hand resting on my head. In my mind I could see Him hanging on the cross and absorbing my sins, suffering in ways I can barely comprehend. And I realized something very clearly.

He never said, “Earn this.”

His grace was sufficient.

But even though grace cannot be earned, I still owed Him something. I owed Him the honor of trying to walk through life with integrity. I owed Him discipline. I owed Him my best effort to live as the Christian man I was called to be.

Have I done that perfectly?

Not even close.

I have fallen flat on my face many times. I have made mistakes I wish I could erase. But as I move toward the later years of my life, I find myself asking a similar question.

Did I earn this?

Not salvation. None of us can earn that. Grace is a gift that no man deserves.

But what about the life that follows?

Especially for men, there is a responsibility many do not fully understand. A man is called to protect. To provide. To give security. To carry burdens that others cannot carry. And when he stumbles and falls, he must get back up and keep walking.

Each night I thank the Lord for His grace.

But grace is not a “get out of jail free card.” It is an invitation to live differently.

When I look back over my life through all these stories, I can say something honestly. Not proudly, but honestly.

I tried.

I tried to serve my family.

I tried to serve my customers.

I tried to serve my church.

I tried to help the people the Lord placed in my path.

Many times in life you will help people and never hear a thank you. That is not why we do it. That was never what I was asking for.

But I do hope that in the end my life can be weighed honestly.

The Marine Corps is a deep part of who I am. As Ronald Reagan once said, Marines do not have to worry about whether they made a difference or whether they served their country.

In my heart, I know I have served this world.

My only fear is that the world did not always see it. But even more than that, I fear that my granddaughters, and especially Cheryl, may not have seen it.

Every day I simply tried to pull the load placed in front of me.

During the entire time I was married to Cheryl, I never missed a day of work. I do not say that boastfully. I do not say it with pride. But somehow that kind of effort should mean something.

I never wanted recognition. I never wanted applause.

I only wanted the privilege of pulling that ore cart.

And maybe when my life is weighed on honest scales, it will be seen for what it truly was.

A man who tried.

There is a companion workbook for this story. Open the workbook (PDF).