Everybody. It's Bill Courtney with an army of normal folks, and welcome to Shop Talk number fifty eight. Welcome into the shop. Oh there's Alex who just walked in. What's up.
I've been here the whole time, but there you go.
Well, it's trying to, you know, like some nineteen forties radio stuff. Maybe we should have.
We're both too tired from that. You said you've been waking up at what four you or you've been doing four hours sleep every day.
Yeah, I'm dealing with all kinds of stuff, but I'm trying to make this fun. But this one. You you stepping in and we need one of those. Yeah, from all.
That, you're old enough to remember those forties radio stuff, right.
I just I've watched them on TV before.
Yeah.
So anyway, Uh, Chop Talk number fifty eight, everybody, we are continuing a little bit of our discussion on experimenting with Uh no, we're not sorry.
Keep going.
Yeah, what we're doing for the next two weeks is we're going to feature powerful pieces of writing from an Army member named Eric Losmo. Eric has a substack titled Some Assembly Required, and his first piece is titled for All the fifty year old men who dot dot dot. So we're going to dive into that right after these brief messages from our general sponsors. All right, everybody, welcome
back chot Talk number fifty eight. Some assembly required. This first spiece you're about to hear is titled for all the fifty year old men who Eric recorded a performance of the Peace Force, and Alec is gonna cue it and play it for me right now, and then we will have a little conversation about it when it concludes. So now is Eric Oxmo performing for all the fifty year old men who.
Do all the boys who were told to grow up to be a man, to get over it, Stop crying, stop daydreaming, make mom proud, be the hero, fight back, and never show your true self. This one's for you to this striver who spent twenty five years chasing the paycheck in the position who now sits in the corner office, holds the executive title, where's the envy of others, but feels trapped, wondering if it was all worth it, and dreams about quitting to write that novel or open that restaurant.
May you find courage to the father packing up his daughter's car for college, wishing he could rewind the clock to relive just one more dance recital or softball game, to grasp a little hand crossing the street, to hear bedtime giggles, and comfort tears over teenage heartbreaks. May you find grace to the husband who's afraid to say it
out loud, I feel lonely. May you find comfort to the friend who believes his time has passed, that the finances will always be tight, that the pain will never leave, that the marriage will always be so hard, and that his heart may always feel broken. May you find hope to the addict who wears the title of an amer doctor but spends his days in a fog of shame, promising himself every night, just one more time, then I'll stop.
May you find healing to the artist still waiting year after year for the break, watching others less talented get the deal, the attention, the applause, and wondering if it is him or will it be someone else. May you find passion to the daddy who silently wonders if his children will repeat the same mistakes he did. May you find peace to the entrepreneur whose wife is begging for stability while he keeps chasing a dream that always stays
just out of reach. May you find wisdom to the single man who hasn't found love yet, who wonders if he ever will, who questions whether he can't even love or be loved. May you find truly find love to the husband his wife no longer wears her ring, who doesn't look up when he walks in the door and only reminds him of the running toilet in the guest bathroom. May you find joy to the former athlete who puts pressure on his junior high son, driving home in silence
after a bad game. Remind the boy of all the trophies in the office. May you find humility to the neighbor who feels the simmering resentment that his car isn't as nice, his house isn't as big, his lawn not
as green, his vacation not as extravagant. May you find contentment and to all the fifty ish year old men who still believe the lies, who carry a shame like a backpack full of bricks, who think they're all alone, who wish they could start over, who wonder how they got here, the ones who long for affection, admiration, appreciation, Who cringe when they look in the mirror, who ache for a true friend, Who think maybe just a few more dollars or one more good vacation will finally fix it?
Who whisper in the dark? Am I needed? Am I wanted? Anymore? May you have assurance that you are not alone?
Thanks for listening, so Eric, thank you for what you wrote, and thanks for the narration. And I'm not sure if I if I want to crawl a whole and cry or if I want to feel vindicated for about twenty things I've done wrong in my life after listening to it. What do you think, Heyvy?
It reminded me of the line from Henry David Threau.
It does.
Yeah, most men live lives of quiet desperation.
Yeah. What I really appreciate about it is we are broken. We are broken from birth, and so much of what we learn wrongly about masculinity is we're supposed to be tough and overcome it all, and our heart's break and our feelings get hurt, and our dreams get dashed, and we also deal with depression, and fifty years or more in this life, you will get beaten about the head and shoulders plenty, and those battle scars where on your
psyche and your heart. And as I hear Eric, I almost get this overarching feeling that hey, guys, we're not alone. We all feel some of the same stuff in one way or another.
And.
It's okay to fill those things and it doesn't make you less of a man or a failure to deal with many of those types of emotions and thoughts and situations that Eric mentions.
What I appreciate him talking and writing about it too, is one of my favorite Bonheffer lines. Go back and listen to our Bonheffer episode. There's a paraphrase, but he basically says the problem of Christians that they're lonely in their sins, whereas the centers of the bar have so much more fellowship with each other because they share everything. And so whether it's your line, yeah, I mean it's
a paraphrase, but that's basically what he's saying. And yeah, I think if we all share stuff like this, we feel us alone. And it's not just us.
I think even if you fill alone and you hear another man recite what Eric just recited, you are reminded you're not alone, and your failures are okay, and the sun's going to come up tomorrow and you just keep rolling. I particularly a couple of the lines, and I'm paraphrasing now of Eric's, but one was the dad who makes his eight year old endure a quiet ride home, reminding his son of his own trophies in his cabinet. May
you find humility? That line alone is how we create this desperate masculinity and we got to be better for our own sons.
Yeah. One of my takeaways from the piece too, is how you avoid some of those traps is by deciding what game you're playing. And this is something I've heard a lot of other podcasts day in the last two years, and I've really reflected on, is is your game for power? Is it for money? Is it for status? Is it for pleasure? Sex? And so deciding or.
Some combination of all, Yeah, and.
What's your god?
Right?
Those things could be your god too. So you know, for me personally, my game is the calogue is trying to get it to have it, and that's the game. And that's easier said than done, right. I feel it every single day of trying to play these other games, but reminding myself you know of that or you give it. You know it's something not of faith, you know for you. I really like Jackie Robinson's line we talked about recently of a life is unimportant except for the impact it
has on other lives. So you can make that the game you're playing your impact on other people. Right, But deciding what game you're playing and having a not be one of these traps that I think is.
Huge, and I think also kind of parlay on top of that Jackie Robinson line is you know where better or where more important is your influence than in your own home. But in your own home is also where you get the most scars, because we hurt the people closest to us. It's where our wives do stuff that hurt us, our guard. I mean that the line at my age now, the line of longing for another little
hand across the street with as your children leave. Yeah, I mean it's tough a guy like me with four children who he worships that are now adult, eight children and all moved off and living out of this house. That new seasons of life can be jolting. And everybody's like, you know, the moms and you know the empty and all that but hey, it hits me too. It's the guy to So you know.
At least your wife loves you. You got that one right, what's up? At least Lisa loves you. You got that one all right.
And I love her too, So you're right. So for all the fifty year old men who maybe play that over four or five times and understand, you're not alone. There's choices every day to atone for the things you've done wrong. And for those of you who have people that love you that you love, understand gosh, every single day you have a chance to make a difference from Eric Loxmo. Some assembly required shop Talk number fifty eight for all the fifty year old men who thanks Eric.
That's good stuff, Alex, anything else before we leave, that's great? Thanks Bill, all right, we'll see you. We'll see you next week. If you like this episode, rate to review it. If you want to come up with some shop Talk ideas, send me an email at Bill at normalfolks dot us or Alex at Army at normal folks dot us. Join the podcast and I don't know, subscribe to it and do something else right.
Follow us all your favorite social channels.
Follow us on our Premium member. All the things, all of these things that will help us scrow an army normal folks. That's Shop Talk number fifty eight one more time, Eric Loxmo, thanks for sharing.