Would this letter change your life?

An employee of Glenn's provided him a letter from February 25, 1918 that was written to his grandfather, Henry. The letter came from a colleague of Henry's father, Charles Rose. Glenn was so moved by the letter he felt the need to read it on-air and share it's message with the audience.

"As I read this, I think to myself, my gosh, does this even happen anymore?" Glenn said.

Charles takes the opportunity to write to Henry about marriage, friends, life, family, and respect; providing advice from an older man's perspective. Charles points out one of Henry's vice's being "selfishness," providing an example of a time Henry berated his father for a phone call his father made out of love and pride. Charles writes, "I truly felt sorry for your father, for I could see it hurt him. I felt more sorry for you, that you should have been so unmindful of his feelings as to talk to him in this manner before anyone...I know it was not through unkindness, on your part, but unthinking, selfishness, and egotism."

Towards the end of the letter Charles imparts some final wisdom on young Henry, saying, "Live a good, clean, honest, and virtuous life. Do every kind act you can in your voyage through life. Honor your father and mother. Make them your closest friends and confidantes."

After Glenn read the letter, he reflected on the power behind Charles' words, and pondered "Do we have any of these principles in common anymore at all?" While 1918 was awhile ago, what has happened to us? One of the questions Glenn asked was about the parents of Henry, "Would the parents even say, Charles, thank you for that? Or would they say, who are you to write to my son that way?"

A letter like that leaves one to think about a lot. It is important for us to remember where we came from and it is essential for younger generations to accept the advice of those older and wiser. We should stop blaming others and focus on our own personal journey and growth, even when we do not want to hear our faults.

While Brad was not able to provide much background information about his grandfather, except that he passed away in 1926, eight years after this letter was written, it is obvious the letter had some effect on him to have kept it. As Glenn said:

"I wish I could tell you, in 1918, this man received this letter, changed his life. The only evidence I have of that, is that this letter still exists. Which means to me: At least in those eight years, it meant enough for him to keep it.And whoever he did marry, it meant enough to her to pass it on to the grandchildren."

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Rough Transcript Below:

GLENN: Brad, who works for our company, came in yesterday. And he gave me a letter from February 25th, 1918. And it was written to his grandfather.

And he said, Glenn, you might want to read this. As I read this, I think to myself, my gosh, does this even happen anymore?

It's a letter to his grandfather from his great grandfather's business partner.

It says:

My Dear Henry, you have seen and know so little about me, that you may be surprised to receive this letter.

If so, I hope you will not be displeased with its contents. Also, that you will appreciate the sentiment that prompts me to write.

When I first met you one evening at your home, I was greatly impressed with your personality, your easy manner in conversation. And in addition to which, I noticed you were self-reliant and aggressive. All of this I admired and felt particularly interested in your progress and success.

I'm sorry to learn that you have abandoned this education that you might have had, but that you reached a point where it was not an irreparable loss.

College presents opportunities difficult to obtain later in life. Still, the schooling of actual business is, after all, the thing that tells us in the long-run and brings out the best qualities that ones possesses.

I was quite shocked one day, however, when you came to the office and took your father to task for having called your employer, as any proud father naturally would. Your father called to inquire of your progress and the possibilities and the position that you had so cleverly obtained and filled for some time.

I truly felt sorry for your father, for I could see it hurt him. I felt more sorry for you, that you should have been so unmindful of his feelings as to talk to him in this manner before anyone. And I, a comparatible stranger.

I know it was not through unkindness, on your part, but unthinking, selfishness, and egotism.

I felt a special interest in you at all times and have asked after you and what you have been doing.

Even more account, I could see signs of disappointment in your father when he replied to you, that he had made just another change or that he seldom heard from you or about your plans.

Just how far I'm right about this in this respect, I cannot say. But I think I can read human nature sufficiently.

I do know how I should feel if I were in his place and a son of mine ignored me and my advice and my opinion after all of the years of anxiety and care of bringing him up through childhood to manhood.

A father and mother's ambition for success of their children is far greater than that of their sons or daughters. I've stated my case, as it appeals to my sentiments, and I want to make some suggestions that I think, if you will listen to, you will some day, some day say, they're not out of the way or misplaced.

I admire your self-reliance. I admire your aggressiveness. I admire your self-esteem. If you were true to yourself and others, they will ensure your success wherever you are and whatever you do.

But I can see that there is selfishness that you need to curb. Also, that you need to cultivate concentration and avoid a narrow view of life, just for the day's occupation, pleasure, or profit. Don't be the day worker with no thought of the future, but plan ahead so what you will have done one day is a steppingstone and advancement for the next.

Save your time. Save your money. Save your experience. So that you will, at all times, be ahead of the game and have reserve for any and all contingencies.

One of the most necessary things in this world for success is to have friends. Real friends. Real friends of the right kind. They do not come to you accidentally. You have to find them and gather them in. To do so, you must go among men and women of character. Your thoughtfulness, your kindness to others will bear fruit and be returned to you.

Your father and your mother are your best friends. They're the best you can or will ever have. Their love and sympathy are assured and their advice is sure to be disinterested and for you and your greatest welfare. And their ambition for you is higher than your own. Therefore, cultivate their sympathy and their thoughts, and show something more than business courtesy to your parents.

Right often, open your heart. Open your heart so they may know the joys or sorrows. That they may rejoice with you in your success and sympathize with you in your failures or sorrows.

Don't get entangled in any manner with man or woman that will result in you becoming a slave. When you have reached a point where you are in a way to afford it, look among your women friends, to the ones who have the kindest heart and most likely to be a help to you, and not only an ornament, just a play thing, but select her as a life companion.

Above all, do not rush into matrimony with the idea that two can live less than one, and when it is too late await to find you are united to one who is a drag or one that you love for whom you cannot do all that is necessary.

Live a good, clean, honest, and virtuous life. Do every kind act you can in your voyage through life. Honor your father and mother. Make them your closest friends and confidantes.

I'm writing you in the spirit I should like to have someone write to me when I was your age. I hope you will write to me sometime, knowing that I can appreciate a young man's feeling and shall always be happy to help you in any way I can. You have my very best wishes for your success. Know that your happiness is my sincerest concern and believe my sincerity and affection.

Your friend, Charles Rose.

I read that, 1918. And I thought, does anybody even say those things anymore? Can you even say those things anymore? Can you imagine writing that to someone saying, look, I'm just a business associate with your father, but I saw something, and I just want to say some things. Unsolicited. Can you imagine? Would the parents even say, Charles, thank you for that? Or would they say, who are you to write to my son that way? Do we have any of these principles in common anymore at all?

When I got this letter, my thoughts went to, so tell me about your grandfather. Tell me about Henry, who got this letter.

He said, well, I didn't know him.

This letter was written in 1918. His grandfather died I think in 1926.

They were doing an air show. These barnstormers came. And he got into one of the airplanes. And he was taken for a ride. It was a thrill. 1926. It was a thrill.

He got off the plane. Turned the wrong direction and walked into the prop.

I wish I were Paul Harvey. I wish I could tell you, in 1918, this man received this letter, changed his life. The only evidence I have of that, is that this letter still exists. Which means to me: At least in those eight years, it meant enough for him to keep it.

And whoever he did marry, it meant enough to her to pass it on to the grandchildren.

On Wednesday's TV show, Glenn Beck sat down with radio show host, author, political commentator, and film critic, Michael Medved.

Michael had an interesting prediction for the 2020 election outcome: a brokered convention by the DNC will usher in former First Lady Michelle Obama to run against President Donald Trump.

Watch the video below to hear why he's making this surprising forecast:

Use code BECK to save $10 on one year of BlazeTV.

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To enjoy more of Glenn's masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution and live the American dream.

On Thursday's "Glenn Beck Radio Program," BlazeTV's White House correspondent Jon Miller described the current situation in Virginia after Gov. Ralph Northam (D) declared a state of emergency and banned people carrying guns at Capitol Square just days before a pro-Second-Amendment rally scheduled on Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

Jon told Glenn that Gov. Northam and the Virginia Legislature are "trying to deprive the people of their Second Amendment rights" but the citizens of Virginia are "rising up" to defend their constitutional rights.

"I do think this is the flashpoint," Jon said. "They [Virginia lawmakers] are saying, 'You cannot exercise your rights ... and instead of trying to de-escalate the situation, we are putting pressure. We're trying to escalate it and we're trying to enrage the citizenry even more'."

Glenn noted how Gov. Northam initially blamed the threat of violence from Antifa for his decision to ban weapons but quickly changed his narrative to blame "white supremacists" to vilify the people who are standing up for the Second Amendment and the Constitution.

"What he's doing is, he's making all all the law-abiding citizens of Virginia into white supremacists," Glenn said.

"Sadly, that's exactly right," Jon replied. "And I think he knows exactly what he's doing."

Watch the video to catch more of the conversation below:

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To enjoy more of Glenn's masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution and live the American dream.

Ryan: Trump Louisiana Finale

Photo by Jim Dale

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

At the end of Trump rallies, I would throw on my Carhartt jacket, sneak out of the press area, then blend in with everyone as they left, filing out through swinging doors.

Often, someone held the door open for me. Just 30 minutes earlier, the same person had most likely had most likely hissed at me for being a journalist. And now they were Sunday smiles and "Oh, yes, thank you, sir" like some redneck concierge.

People flooded out of the arena with the stupidity of a fire drill mishap, desperate to survive.

The air smacked you as soon as you crossed the threshold, back into Louisiana. And the lawn was a wasteland of camping chairs and coolers and shopping bags and to-go containers and soda cans and articles of clothing and even a few tents.

In Monroe, in the dark, the Trump supporters bobbled over mounds of waste like elephants trying to tiptoe. And the trash was as neutral to them as concrete or grass. They plodded over it because it, an object, had somehow gotten in their way.

It did not matter that they were responsible for this wreckage.Out in the sharp-edged moonlight, rally-goers hooted and yapped and boogied and danced, and the bbq food truck was all smoke and paper plates.

They were even more pumped than they had been before the rally, like 6,000 eight year olds who'd been chugging Mountain Dew for hours. Which made Donald Trump the father, the trooper, God of the Underworld, Mr. Elite, Sheriff on high horse, the AR-15 sticker of the family.

Ritualistic mayhem, all at once. And, there in Louisiana, Trump's supporters had gotten a taste of it. They were all so happy. It bordered on rage.

Still, I could not imagine their view of America. Worse, after a day of strange hostilities, I did not care.

My highest priority, my job as a reporter, was to care. To understand them and the world that they inhabit. But I did not give a damn and I never wanted to come back.

Worst of all, I would be back. In less than a week.

Was this how dogs felt on the 4th of July? Hunched in a corner while everyone else gets drunk and launches wailing light into the sky? configurations of blue and red and white.

It was 10:00 p.m. and we'd been traveling since 11:00 a.m., and we still had 5 hours to go and all I wanted was a home, my home, any home, just not here, in the cold sweat of this nowhere. Grey-mangled sky. No evidence of planes or satellites or any proof of modern-day. Just century-old bridges that trains shuffled over one clack at a time.

And casinos, all spangles and neon like the 1960s in Las Vegas. Kitchy and dumb, too tacky for lighthearted gambling. And only in the nicer cities, like Shreveport, which is not nice at all.

And swamp. Black water that rarely shimmered. Inhabited by gadflies and leeches and not one single fish that was pretty.

Full of alligators, and other killing types. The storks gnawing on frogs, the vultures never hungry. The coyotes with nobody to stop them and so much land to themselves. The roaches in the wild, like tiny wildebeests.

Then, the occasional deer carcass on the side of the road, eyes splayed as if distracted, tongue out, relaxed but empty. The diseased willows like skeletons in hairnets. The owls that never quit staring. A million facets of wilderness that would outlive us all.

Because Nature has poise. It thrives and is original.

Because silence is impossible. Even in an anechoic chamber, perfectly soundproofed, you can hear your own heartbeat, steady as a drum. A never-ending war.

I put "Headache" by Grouper on repeat as we glided west. We were deadlocked to asphalt, rubber over tarface.

And I thought about lines from a Rita Dove poem titled "I have been a stranger in a strange land"

He was off cataloging the universe, probably,
pretending he could organize
what was clearly someone else's chaos.

Wasn't that exactly what I was doing? Looking for an impossible answer, examining every single accident, eager for meaning? telling myself, "If it happens and matters the next year, in America, I want to be there, or to know what it means. I owe it to whoever cares to listen."

Humans are collectors and I had gone overboard.

Because maybe this wasn't even my home. These landmarks, what did they mean? Was I obvious here? When I smiled, did I trick them into believing that I felt some vague sense of approval? Or did my expressions betray me?

Out in all that garbage-streaked emptiness — despite the occasional burst of passing halogen — I couldn't tell if everything we encountered was haunted or just old, derelict, broken, useless. One never-ending landfill.

Around those parts, they'd made everything into junk. Homes. Roads. Glass. Nature. Life itself, they made into junk.

I cringed as we passed yet another deer carcass mounded on the side of the road.

As written in Job 35:11,

Who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth and makes us wiser than the birds in the sky?

Nobody. Look at nature and you feel something powerful. Look at an animal, in all of its untamable majesty, and you capture a deep love, all swept up in the power of creation. But, here, all I saw were poor creatures who people had slammed into and kept driving. Driving to where? For what reason? What exactly was so important that they left a trail of dead animals behind them?

So I crossed myself dolorously and said an "Our Father" and recited a stanza from Charles Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart"

you can't beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.

Out here, nothing but darkness. Needing some light, by God. Give me something better than a Moon that hides like an underfed coward.

Jade told me about some of the more traumatic things she'd seen while working at the State Fair.

"Bro, they pull roaches out of the iced lemonade jugs and act like nothing happened."

"All right but what about the corn dogs?"

"You do not want to know, little bro."

She looked around in the quiet. "Back in the day, the Louisiana Congress refused to raise the drinking age from 18 to 21," she said. "They didn't want to lose all that drunk gambler money. So the federal government cut off funding to highways."

We glided through moon-pale landscape for an hour before I realized what she had meant. That there weren't any light poles or billboards along the road. Nothing to guide us or distract us. Just us, alone. And it felt like outer space had collapsed, swallowed us like jellybeans.

Like two teenagers playing a prank on the universe.

In the cozy Subaru Crosstrek, in the old wild night, brimming with the uncertainty of life and the nonchalance of failure, we paraded ourselves back to Dallas. Alive in the river silence that follows us everywhere.

New installments come Mondays and Thursdays. Next, the Iowa caucuses. Check out my Twitter. Email me at kryan@blazemedia.com

The Iowa primary is just around the corner, and concerns of election interference from the last presidential election still loom. Back in 2016, The Associated Press found that a majority of U.S. elections systems still use Windows 7 as an operating system, making them highly susceptible to bugs and errors. And last year, a Mississippi voter tried multiple times to vote for the candidate of his choice, but the system continuously switched his vote to the other candidate. It's pretty clear: America's voting systems desperately need an update.

That's where blockchain voting comes in.

Blockchain voting is a record-keeping system that's 100% verifiable and nearly impossible to hack. Blockchain, the newest innovation in cybersecurity, is set to grow into a $20 billion industry by 2025. Its genius is in its decentralized nature, distributing information throughout a network of computers, requiring would-be hackers to infiltrate a much larger system. Infiltrating multiple access points spread across many computers requires a significant amount of computing power, which often costs more than hackers expect to get in return.

Blockchain voting wouldn't allow for many weak spots. For instance, Voatz, arguably the leading mobile voting platform, requires a person to take a picture of their government-issued ID and a picture of themselves before voting (a feature, of course, not present in vote-by-mail, where the only form of identity verification is a handwritten signature, which is easily forgeable). Voters select their choices and hit submit. They then receive an immediate receipt of their choices via email, another security feature not present in vote-by-mail, or even in-person voting. And because the system operates on blockchain technology, it's nearly impossible to tamper with.

Votes are then tabulated, and the election results are published, providing a paper trail, which is a top priority for elections security experts.

The benefits of blockchain voting can't be dismissed. Folks can cast their vote from the comfort of their homes, offices, etc., vastly increasing the number of people who can participate in the electoral process. Two to three-hour lines at polling places, which often deter voters, would become significantly diminished.

Even outside of the voting increase, the upsides are manifold. Thanks to the photo identification requirements, voter fraud—whether real or merely suspected—would be eliminated. The environment would win, too, since we'd no longer be wasting paper on mail-in ballots. Moreover, the financial burden on election offices would be alleviated, because there's decreased staff time spent on the election, saving the taxpayer money.

From Oregon to West Virginia, elections offices have already implemented blockchain voting, and the results have been highly positive. For example, the city of Denver utilized mobile voting for overseas voters in their 2019 municipal elections. The system was secure and free of technical errors, and participants reported that it was very user-friendly. Utah County used the same system for their 2019 primary and general elections. An independent audit revealed that every vote that was cast on the app was counted and counted correctly. These successful test cases are laying the groundwork for even larger expansions of the program in 2020.

With this vital switch, our elections become significantly more secure, accurate, and efficient. But right now, our election infrastructure is a sitting duck for manipulation. Our current lack of election integrity undermines the results of both local and national elections, fans the flames of partisanship, and zaps voter confidence in the democratic system. While there's never a silver bullet or quick fix to those kinds of things, blockchain voting would push us much closer to a solution than anything else.

Chris Harelson is the Executive Director at Prosperity Council and a Young Voices contributor.