I found this on the web somewhere, and I am pasting exactly as I found it. Good men are everywhere. They are now and they always have been. Never forget no matter how bleak the world may make it seem.

Harvey Patterson November 17 at 6:21 PM

It was Christmas Eve 1942. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas.

We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Daddy wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Daddy to get down the old Bible.

I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Daddy didn't get the Bible instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon he came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now he was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew he was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my coat. Mommy gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Daddy was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Daddy pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed.

"I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.

Then Daddy went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. Mrs.Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?

Yeah," I said, "Why?"

"I rode by just today," he said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, he called a halt to our loading then we went to the smoke house and he took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.

"What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Mrs.Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Daddy was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was he buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"

Mrs.Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Mrs.Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Daddy said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then he handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at my Daddy like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," he said. Then turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.

My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Daddy handed them each a piece of candy and Mrs.Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of my Daddy in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Daddy had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Mommy and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Daddy insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. My Daddy took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Daddy and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door he turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.

Mrs.Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Daddy turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your Mother and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough.

Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your Mom and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Daddy had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. He had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Mrs. Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside of my Daddy that night. He had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

This is a message in three related parts.

Part 1: Atlas Shrugged

Many years ago, a great mentor of mine (John) suggested that I read Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. He is by far the most red pilled person I have ever met - he just knew things. So I almost always took his advice and I got the book.

Shrugged is a beast of a book; it is a long, dense, tough read. For those who haven’t read it, it is a fictional story of a man named Henry Reardon and a woman Dagny Taggart. In short, they are hard working, individualists, who believe in hard work, reason, and moral correctness. Throughout the story, various government and collectivist types do their best to screw everything up. which they do, and ultimately the system collapses. I will leave the rest to you to read so as to avoid any real spoilers.

But what ultimately causes the systems collapse?

Good men walk away.

Part 2: Just STOP.

My ex wife, who passed away a few years ago, and I were in many ways the ideal couple. We loved each other, and got along really well. We were together for 20 years and married for 15 of them. We ultimately got divorced, which is a story for another time, but this part of our story is still interesting to me after all these years.

For most of our relationship, we followed traditional roles. She was the wife, and I the husband. She cooked, and I helped do the dishes. I fixed things, and she took care of the babies. We shared many of the household chores because we had a large house and a lot of family around, so there was always a lot to do.

One night, at around 10:00 PM, I sat down on the end of my bed and just collapsed from exhaustion. I was wiped out in a way that bordered on burnout. It had been a long day, at the end of a long week, after a long month. I had just spent the past few hours playing with kids and picking up after them. But also picking up after my wife and her mom. They are clutter-oriented people. They both liked to see half of their belongings on display at all times. So they did not see clutter - they saw a "lived in" sort of comfortable vibe, This irked me to no end, so I would follow behind them and pick up a dish towel on a chair and put it on a towel bar. Pick up a shoe, move this, tuck that, replace that. Not obsessively, but it was slow and continuous.

This night it wore me down to a nub.

When we settled down for the night, I mentioned this to her and she looked shocked. Her response was something like “You hardly do ANYTHING around the house. What are you even talking about!” That statement was a game changer. I cannot express how powerfully this hit me at the moment. It riveted me - I almost felt ill and I am NOT the type to get that way. There is more to this because we were also starting to drift apart around this time for various other reasons, so it had a sort of compound effect.

So here I was quite KILLING myself slowly; stressed out and on the border of burnout from a challenging career, late hours, little babies, managing the family finances, and countless other responsibilities - on top of cleaning up after grown adults!

And THAT was her response!

At the moment, I let it go. I just sat there with my jaw on the floor trying hard to not let my shock show. The next day I woke up and headed out to work. I played with the kids for a bit, kisses and hugs all around and left. When I got home I played with the kids, took care of a few things and let everything else go. No dishes, no cleaning. Nothing.

At this point it is fair to call me passive aggressive. And perhaps that is right. But I maintain that I did not have a drop of passive aggressive intentions. I was not trying to get even, or DO anything. I just stopped doing any of the house work.

In other words I shrugged it off.

That next night I went to bed, and both of us seemed a bit happier! WTF! Was I delusional all this time? So I promised myself I would do this for one month to see how long it would take her to notice. Keep in mind, that I still changed babies, still helped clean off the table after dinner, helped the kids clean up rooms, etc. But all the ‘Extra’ stuff was on hiatus.

A month passed. And nothing. She did not complain or mention it in any way. My stress level went down, and things felt a little more relaxed in the house. It was odd. The one downside is that the house looked like shit. I cannot stand a messy home, which is why I did all that to begin with.

So one day about 6 weeks later, she asked if I would help her clean up the living room. I said sure, but I only picked up two things and walked out. Later she asked me if everything was okay, and I said hell yes! She mentioned how I didn't help as much as she expected. I then asked her “Babe, do you notice anything different about the house these past few weeks?” “No” she said.

“So you don’t notice how how messy it is this month?” I asked.

“No. Not really. I mean no more or less than ever before. Why?” Then I told her about my month-long hiatus. She literally shook her head and said “I didn’t notice any difference”

That moment took me some time to process. But there it was. The extra effort I gave, which was considerable, was not only not noticed, the negative effects were not even felt.

The relevant lesson (one of several big "aha" moments from that particular incident) was twofold: First, sometimes the best thing to do is to just let go of the work and the worry - just stop. And second, sometimes when you think you are helping, you are actually hurting.

Let that sit there for a few.

Part 3: Walking Away

Brandon Straka is the founder of the #walkaway movement. I saw his original video when it first came out about two years ago. Since then, his impact has been incredible. He has reached millions of people, and changed countless minds. I have seen many people on Facebook sharing their own #walkaway stories. He is also taking a lot of flak and has endured countless attacks. Watch the video and poke around. This is a bigger thing than you are led to believe. Decide for yourself.

In short, his simple message is this: Just walk away.

Conclusion

Over the past quarter century in the US, in countless ways, men have been GTOW, Walking Away, setting it down, and Shrugging . This has gained big momentum in this past decade, as this loose collection of “movements” have reached critical mass. It is felt in the many realms of life, including politics, race relations, housing, the job market, government, higher education, marriage and family, and the dating scene to name several.

The consequences are all around us, and they have gone from glaring and urgent, to a full blown societal meltdown.

Interestingly, Japan is ahead of us in this regard. Men there collectively shrugged about 15 years ago EN MASSSE. And all they got for it was nasty nicknames which I will not repeat here. They don’t care either way. Women and most media outlets still decry the rapid and alarming decline in the birth rate, and they still write articles like "Where are all the good men?"

When my wife put me in the position – When I put MYSELF in the position in which, the more I did in my marriage the worse things got, the only reasonable thing to do was to stop. I had quite literally tried everything else. In other words, no matter what I did, I lost.

So I just stopped, shrugged, walked away.

These days, we are being told that if we engage in race-based discussions, even if we make supportive comments towards of black people, we are racist. (This very thing happened to me this week on one of our subs) We are also told that if we do nothing, then we are also racist. In other words, no matter what we do, we lose. So I decided to stop.

In the dating scene, when men try, women reject and adopt unrealistic expectations because of an abundance of attention. When men back off, we are MGTOW misogynist incel man children who are afraid of commitment. In other words, no matter what we do, we lose.

When society (or anyone for that matter) gives you several options, and the most obvious, reasonable, sane, fair, and just choice is to do nothing; then why choose any other option?

TL;RD

When you are damned if you do, and damned if you don’t – then just don’t. At least this way, all you get is being called bad names. Engaging can sometimes exact a cost that is too high to bear.

Good luck men.