Russ had an enormous influence on my life, but as I write this column I realize I barely knew him. Like many of his contemporaries, Russ matured early thanks to the reality check of World War II. He was a paratrooper, so statistically would not have survived the D-Day Invasion had it not been for a training accident in the spring of 1944. During a nighttime drop over the woodlands of England, jump orders were erroneously given at a dangerously low altitude over a stump filled clear-cut. Russ remembers jumping and then all he saw was stars; the kind you see when you are knocked unconscious. His ankle shattered at impact, but he was lucky. For some, the five second plunge to the ground was their final time on earth. Russ was treated in military hospitals in England and because of his injury; Uncle Sam was sending him stateside. He had different plans. Because he possessed an unfailing allegiance to God and country, he begged to re-join his unit fighting their way across France. Uncle Sam yielded only if Russ signed a liability release should his partially healed ankle become a long term disability. He signed. Here is where my memories gray out. Russ and his unit fought across Europe and in our time together, he spoke very little of his experiences. More than anything else, warriors like Russ want to complete their mission, go home and leave the memories behind. Russ gave me the book “A Bridge Too Far” and said it accurately describes his time in Europe.

In the post-war era, Russ married, had two children and moved to a small Hereford ranch in Boulder, Colorado. He managed the operation for an absentee owner until the urban sprawl of Boulder swallowed their ranch. Russ retired and moved to Billings, Montana, to be closer to family. To someone whose life experiences began by jumping out of airplanes over hostile territory, retirement felt strange. Russ lasted two weeks. Because work is an essential part of life, Russ talked his way into a position at a local clinic where I was employed as a staff veterinarian. He was a jack-of-all-trades who did everything from assisting in large animal surgery, to plowing snow and mowing lawns. Russ was the most polite and Godly man I ever met. My life changed forever because he was my friend and had he not had an overwhelming desire to work, our paths may never have crossed. This brings me to my point.

The propaganda wing of the Obama Administration is obscuring the undeniable fact the further implementation of Obamacare will cause the loss of an additional 2.5 million jobs. With a straight face, they claim by receiving Obamacare subsidies, poverty class workers forced to accept a decrease in work hours will now be free to pursue other passions and still have their healthcare. The left is spinning this decrease in productivity is actually a good thing. Like Pavlov’s dogs, the state run media began running stories how work is actually bad with Americans intrinsically working too much. They advanced the preposterous theory we should emulate Europeans who vacation professionally; the same Europeans who Russ set free in World War II. How ironic.

This anti-work ethic has become the hope and change centerpiece of the American soul and a recent snow storm in Billings revealed how we have lost the can-do attitude of American exceptionalism. A young lady unsuccessfully tried to hire three neighborhood teenage boys to shovel her driveway at the rate of $10 per hour. The pay was too little to pry them from the couch with their parents agreeing it was not enough money. This is insane. The idea everyone is entitled to share equally in the bounty produced from the sweat of others is ridiculous, yet rampant. One political party has built their entire platform on the balsa wood plank income inequality is the biggest evil in our time and can only be corrected by aggressive government wealth redistribution. Men with the work ethic of Russ are a dying breed, so I fear another piece of America is lost.