Let Us All Be Cornerstones

My grandma was the first Irish migrant to these United States within my immediate family. Her brother migrated to America first, at the age of twelve. He and another boy came earlier in 1920 – sent by their mothers (my great grandmother and great-great aunt) after their fathers (my great grandfather and his brother) were killed by the British. The boys worked and saved enough to buy property in the United States. By 1930, at the age of 22, my great-uncle had a palatial home on the Hudson River, a wife, a few children, and properties from Florida to Maine. In the mid-1930s, when my grandma set sail from Belfast Port, he had gifted her property in central Florida. At that time, the only way to come to America was to own land and show you had a job. Her brother ensured they had jobs necessary to comply with migration laws at the time.

When she arrived, she took no charity from her brother, beyond that which he provided in the form of land necessary to arrive. She scrubbed floors and did laundry – half of the proceeds of which went home to her mother and other sisters. Eventually, she got work as a nanny for a well-off family. Not long after, she met and married my grandfather – a fellow Irish immigrant in the U.S. Army – down in Tallahassee on the eve of World War II. They made babies (my mother among them), went or waited through a war, and eventually went back to work as if nothing had happened between 1939 – 1945 (1941 for the Americans).  They did all that they could to ensure the American dream was possible for their children and grandchildren.

They never lived to see the land I now own, nor that which I will eventually bequeath to my children – their great grandchildren. They never made it to see the advanced graduate degrees their various grandchildren would achieve. They never saw the heights to which many in the family would climb.

In effect, they were the cornerstone of an American story. At no time did they lament the lack of subsidies to make it easier for them. They never complained that their lot was not to end up in a multimillion-dollar home. They simply got to work – in terms of both employment and building a family. Their role was that of a cornerstone – establishing a foundation that would eventually be covered over time. As future generations marvel at the heights of a grand structure, they often ignore that first critical piece. There it sits, often covered by shrubbery, ivy, or ignored by other impressive features. Yet, without it, there is nothing else.

You and I, as well as so many men and women in the Dissident Right may never be known. Our names will long be forgotten generations after the SPLC is outlawed and the antifa is eradicated. Our images will be wiped from eternity, beyond that which is written in the Book of Life. We are neither the roof nor the gables of resistance. We are not the grand archway. We are not the mesmerizing columns. We are cornerstones of a unique movement – sacrificing now for the betterment of our people in the future.

Too many in the Dissident Right seek immediate gratification. They long for name recognition. They struggle to be heard and seen. But to what effect are they achieving for their people?

We are at a unique juncture in time. Very few of the names of the early Christian leaders who martyred themselves on behalf of Jesus Christ are remembered. They never thought to themselves that their names would bring glory to them. They knew that their sacrifice would bring Glory to God.

The question everyone should ask themselves is the following: do I care more about the future than the present? It is a poignant question, because so many of our forebearers answered through actions and deeds. They never stopped to consider selfish personal gratification at the expense of future generations. They thought about that which was necessary for the children of tomorrow.

If the Dissident Right is going to grow, it will need spokesmen and content producers. It will also need humble “doers.” It will need the scribes, accountants, cooks, and post conference clean-up volunteers. It needs people who know their long-term, silent support is more important than boisterous proclamations by short-term heroes.

Let us all be cornerstones. Building an enduring legacy takes sacrifices that goes beyond fleeting fame. It takes teams of commitment. No single individual can do it all. No single voice can move the masses. No single author can inspire the spirit.

We must all work toward a future we may never see. The satisfaction we will enjoy shall come from the knowledge that generations down the line, the South will be free. Our descendants will be citizens of an Independent Dixie thanks to the work we do today.