My brother served in World War 2. In 2017 he “checked out of the grand hotel,” a phrase he coined for leaving this world, having left his “kid brother” (me) a wealth of good counsel, encouragement, and files enough to fill a basement. During my high school days he wrote a poem that hit hard and deep at the evil he sensed in his day. The sharpness of it stunned me, all the more since I was a tenderfoot in matters of such weight. That was over 70 years ago, when America still proved to be “the land of the free and the home of the brave” − for which the “Great Generation” is still venerated. While his poem reflects the tyranny of two world wars, the second of which called my brother to arms, it could have been written today as an outcry against the tyranny of globalists preparing us for their “Great Reset”
Watching Big Brother
