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A Stranger in My Own Generation

There are times I feel like a stranger in this generation. One example hits hardest in social settings—where basic manners, once drilled into us by parents, seem to have gone missing. It wasn’t just “instilled” for us; it was expected, enforced, and lived. Sadly, those courtesies have thinned out with each passing generation, even here in the South. In moments like these, I realize how much of an old soul I really am.

The Woman Who Shaped My Character

My mother deserves most of the credit for shaping my character, values, and spiritual foundation. She’s always had a heart that feels others’ pain before they speak it, and a gift for quietly stepping in to meet needs—often in ways no one else would ever know. I’ve seen her give from a stretched budget, answering God’s nudge rather than guarding her own comfort. That kind of sensitivity and sacrifice has stayed with me all my life. I’ve spent years trying, in my flawed way, to follow her example.

The Man Who Toughened the Edges

Dad was a good man—rough around the edges, brilliant with his hands, and endlessly inventive. He could build or fix anything and made sure I understood what Southern manners really meant—discipline, respect, and a firm handshake. He embodied a kind of rugged competence that feels rare today. I knew I could never match his breadth of skill, but watching him work taught me to value craftsmanship, perseverance, and masculine integrity.

Lessons from Older Men

As a teenager and young adult, I found myself drawn to older men—those who had weathered life and carried wisdom earned through scars. Sure, I ran with guys my own age and did my share of foolish things, but the men who shaped me most were decades ahead of me. From them, I learned patience, steadiness, and what it meant to stand firm when life tested you.

Faith at the Core

Even from my youth, above all the other ambitions of manhood, I wanted to live surrendered to God—to walk as Christ did, not just talk about it. That conviction shaped everything that came after.

At nineteen, I began serving as a youth pastor. Those early years were a trial by fire—equal parts challenge and wonder. The youth group grew from thirty to more than a hundred, and I watched miracles unfold: lives changed, young hearts set on fire. I traveled, preached, and saw the hand of God move in ways that still leave me in awe. Later, I pastored a small country church—humble, genuine, unforgettable. Those people taught me what it means to live faith, not perform it.

Writing as Ministry

These days, my ministry expresses itself through writing—spiritual reflections, lessons learned, and the experiences that have shaped my walk with God. Due to health issues, this website has become my pulpit and the articles written my sermons.

Honoring the Legacy of Men Before Us

All of it—the faith, the grit, the conviction—traces back to the men I admired growing up. They were models of what manhood could and should be. Their lives form the foundation for everything I try to teach and live today. What follows is not a complete list, but a glimpse of who these men were, what they valued, and what still defines a true man of faith.

The Protectors

Our ancestors didn’t have to be told to protect their families—it was as natural as breathing. Bravery wasn’t an exception; it was the expectation. Skills for safeguarding home, land, and loved ones were passed down from father to son, generation after generation.

Today, those instincts have dulled. Most men rely on local or federal systems for protection rather than their own readiness. On paper, the world looks safer. But one glance at the news says otherwise. The threats we face now are just more polished—digital, psychological, and global.

We need men who still recognize danger for what it is and are willing to prepare for it. Men who commit to learning, training, and equipping themselves so that, if the moment comes, they can stand firm and defend their homes and families with skill, courage, and conviction.

The Providers

The men before us took pride in earning their family’s keep. Long days and hard labor weren’t burdens—they were badges of honor. Asking for help was rare because their communities functioned as brotherhoods; men helped each other without needing to ask twice.

There was a code: if someone helped you, you remembered it, and you repaid it. No paperwork. No programs. Just honor. When that code prevailed, government assistance wasn’t necessary. Men carried their own weight—and each other’s when needed.

Today, dependence has replaced responsibility. Too many men look first to government aid rather than rolling up their sleeves. We need a return of men who take pride in providing, no matter the job, the weather, or how they feel that morning. True manhood means showing up—tired or not.

And beyond providing for their own, real men look for opportunities to lift another brother up, especially when there’s nothing to gain. That’s the kind of generosity heaven blesses.

Standing Firm in Beliefs and Values

Our forefathers held fast to their beliefs while respecting others. Peace thrived because they understood a simple rule: you don’t have to agree to coexist.

My ancestors left England in the 1500s to escape tyranny. They gave up status, titles, and wealth for freedom. Six generations of Sheffields bore the title Sir Richard. One served in King Henry VII’s final parliaments; another helped design the original Buckingham Home—which became Buckingham Palace. Yet they later left it all behind for liberty and faith.

That freedom came at a terrible price, paid in blood by those who refused to compromise their convictions. So yes, we welcome newcomers—but not those who try to dismantle what our fathers built. This nation’s foundation rests on Judaeo-Christian values. Those who come here must respect that heritage, not demand its replacement.

Men of conviction are needed again—men willing to stand, unbending, against the cultural erosion of truth, morality, and respect for women and children. Freedom without moral spine collapses. Our forefathers knew that. We must remember it.

Love and Respect the Ladies

If there’s one area where modern men have dropped the ball, it’s in how they treat women. Hearing men call their wives or girlfriends “the old lady” or “baby mama” makes my skin crawl. Those titles speak of immaturity, not affection.

My parents modeled something better. They taught me to treat women with respect, regardless of age. Courtesy isn’t weakness—it’s strength with manners. I still say “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am,” tip my hat, and open doors. It’s not old-fashioned; it’s timeless decency.

Some women today bristle at “ma’am,” thinking it makes them sound old. I think it makes them sound honored. When I get that reaction, I can’t help but grin and repeat it. Usually, that breaks the ice.

Gentlemen, open doors. Help her into the car. Make her safety and comfort your priority. These gestures aren’t about control—they’re about reverence. They tell the world she’s cherished.

This isn’t about being perfect; I forget sometimes too. But every time I do, I feel the loss of something important. Respect for women isn’t an act—it’s a mindset, one that must be practiced daily.

A Man’s Word is His Contract

I was raised to meet a man with a handshake—firm, honest, confident. My father’s grip could crush steel, but it always carried respect. He taught me to match another man’s pressure, to look him in the eye, and to let my word mean something.

Once, that handshake was a binding contract. If two men agreed, the deal was done—no lawyers, no signatures, no loopholes. You followed through, even when it cost you. Integrity wasn’t negotiable.

Now we live in a world of fine print and half-truths. People sign documents they don’t understand, and others look for ways to escape their word. It’s a tragic downgrade from when honor sealed the deal.

I still prefer conversations over contracts, though business today demands email trails and written proof. Even so, I miss the simplicity of a day when men’s promises carried weight and character mattered more than convenience.

In Closing

Volumes could be written about how men ought to live today in honor of their ancestors. This site is my way of rekindling that fire—to remind men of the timeless principles that built a nation and can rebuild its backbone.

I’ll continue adding articles expanding these ideas—restoring the lost art of masculine living rooted in faith, honor, and humility. I’d be honored to hear your stories too.

Keep it old school.
—Blane