It’s Christmastime. This has been a difficult year for me for many reasons. The pandemic. Losing our rights under the Constitution in the “new” Biden America, where race matters more than merit, where law enforcement has been abandoned, where the rights of the criminal are put way ahead of the rights of the victim.
It’s not even close to the America, the light of the world, that we are accustomed to.
However, my motto is, “Look for the good, and praise it.”
This is still the greatest nation on earth by far. I have the best wife and son and granddaughter on earth by far. I have a super great sister. And I go swimming every day in my very own pool, which is heated insanely. I had the best father and mother ever.
So, I am a happy guy. I love my readers and I wish I were rich enough to give each of you a lavish Christmas present. But I’m not as rich as that. However, I do have a glorious Christmas gift for all of you.
Twenty-seven years ago, The American Spectator honored my 50th Birthday with a dinner dance at a hotel in Northwest D.C. As part of the festivities, my father wrote a letter of advice to me titled simply, “Advice from H. Stein to B. Stein on his 50th Birthday.” H. Stein to B. Stein. One scholarly colleague to another. I had the best father on the planet.
Here is what he wrote to me and it holds up perfectly even after 27 years.
I cannot thank God enough ever for giving me such a wonderful father, mother, wife, sister, son, granddaughter, for letting me be a part of the White House at a crucial time, for letting me be an American.