A Lesson I Needed, Just in Time for Thanksgiving

For my Meltdown this week, I have a brief Thanksgiving message and a little story to tell. So grab your chair, grab your cup of coffee, and come sit with me for a few minutes.

This is a true story, and hopefully a story that everybody can relate to, because when it gets right down to it, we’re all the same. Those of us who love this country and are so damn concerned with where we are right now, we’re trying so hard to balance our lives. We’re trying to balance our lives with doing what we can to oppose the mad tyrant in the White House.

This is for all of us trying to maintain balance in our lives, focus on what matters, and not make it all about ourselves.

Our story begins in Philadelphia, the birthplace of America…

Two weeks ago, I spoke at a wonderful, all-day conference that The Philadelphia Citizen put on called the Ideas We Should Steal Festival. By the way, love you, Philly. At the conference, I gave a talk along with Fred Guttenberg, whom you all know, moderated by Ali Velshi of MS-NOW. Fred and I are Two Dads Defending Democracy. He horribly lost his beautiful daughter Jamie in the school shooting in Parkland, Florida, back in 2018.

Fred and I disagree on the issue of guns. We used to hate on each other, because I’m a big gun rights guy, and he’s a big gun safety guy. So we used to do what America does, right? We fought, we yelled at each other, we hated each other on social media. But then we called a time-out, we met privately, we got to know each other, and we’ve become best friends. We’ve even found common ground on guns. It’s a cool story—and a journey all of us must take, by the way.

Our talk was on a Friday. I went to sleep that night, woke up on Saturday morning, and I’m in a rush to get back to Washington, D.C. I’m going to go on TV later that day, and I’m in a hurry. Plus, as usual, Trump did a couple horrible, stupid things the night before, and I want to tweet about all the shit Trump did.

I’m not in a real good mood. Because even though we had a great day on Friday, I’m upset with everything Trump’s doing. And I’m bothered that I have to drive two-and-a-half to three hours to get back to D.C. that afternoon. I’m feeling kind of like, does this really matter? All the yelling and shouting I’m doing every day—does it really matter?

That morning, all of this is running through my head. We’re checking out, I’m in a hurry, and I just want my damn cup of coffee. I’m in a bad mood because of Trump. I’m in a bad mood because I have to get back in the car, race home, and do TV. I’m not going to enjoy my Saturday afternoon. And I’m in a bad mood because I don’t even know if I matter anymore in this political fight we’re in.

I’m stewing, staring at my phone, trying to fire off a tweet, looking at whatever fresh madness Trump’s created. I’m thinking about the long drive home. I’m thinking, I’m tired. God, I’m just tired. Middle of nowhere with my dogs—is that what I should just go do? Do I even matter anymore?

While my wife’s still at the counter checking out, I run across the street, because I’m a big donut guy. Donuts will help. And every time I’m in Philadelphia, I love the city more and more—especially the food. So I go to Federal Donuts, which I highly recommend to anyone. If you’re in Philadelphia, go to Federal Donuts. Great donuts.

I get in line because, at the very least, I’m going to order some damn donuts to balance out this mood. There’s only one person in front of me—this woman, a white woman in maybe her sixties or seventies, wearing a wild outfit.

She’s trying to pick out a dozen donuts, and it’s taking her forever.

“I want that one. No, the sugar one. No, the maple one…”

She points, the girl behind the counter reaches for it, and then the woman changes her mind again.

“Oh no, not that one. They don’t like that one. Can I get more chocolate frosted?”

This goes on and on and ON for—I’m not exaggerating—10 or 15 minutes. And remember, I’m already pissed about Trump, about the drive, about TV, about yelling every day and not knowing if it matters anymore. I’ve got a health thing weighing on me. Everything. I’m just wound tight.

And she’s still picking. Finally, the box looks full. The young woman behind the counter is about to ring her up. And then…

“No, stop. Three of those won’t work. Can we switch?”

I lost it.

The clerk opens the box again, ready to start over, and this woman is looking at every donut like it’s a life-or-death decision. And I just snap. 8:30 in the morning, Federal Donuts, Philly—I blow up.

“What in God’s name?! Ma’am, will you please take care of your business and pick out your damn donuts!?”

I kid you not. I said that, loudly.

She turns to me, and she starts to cry.

She says, “My mother is about to die. She’ll be gone early this afternoon. I’m buying these donuts for the hospice staff who’ve been caring for her. Do you mind?” And she’s crying.

Just like that, I shut down.

I have a wicked temper—always have. I’m not always the happy-go-lucky guy some of you think I am. The old me would have gotten into it with her. But she said what she said, and it stopped me in my fucking tracks.

I stopped everything I was doing, everything I was thinking about. I put my phone in my pocket. I didn’t finish that tweet. I looked at her and said, “I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” Then I walked out. Sat on a bench outside the shop for a moment before heading back to the hotel.

And I prayed. Briefly. I said, Thank you, God.

Thank you for what just happened. Thank you for slapping me upside the head. Thank you for reminding me it’s not all about me. Not all about Trump. Not all about Twitter and Substack and whatever TV hit I think is so damn important.

It’s about life and death. It’s about the very, very, very brief slice of time we get on this planet. The family we’re born into, the family we build, the friends we love. We’re gone in a nanosecond.

That woman ahead of me at Federal Donuts—ordering donuts for the people caring for her dying mother—in that very brief moment, she punched perspective right into my gut. She reminded me what matters. Made me realize what’s important. Pulled me out of the me, me, me spiral:

I’ve gotta fire off this tweet.
I’ve gotta get back to TV.
I’ve gotta stay relevant.
Do I even matter?
Is anyone listening?

And meanwhile this woman’s only thought was gratitude—for nurses who helped her mother through her final days. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about my rush.

This happened two weeks ago, and it’s haunted me ever since—in a good way. I never got my donuts, but I walked out of there wiser. Now, when I’m caught up in the daily battle about politics and urgency and ego, I stop. I breathe. I remember that moment at Federal Donuts. That woman. That reminder: balance.

Let me be clear. Resisting that monstrous fascist in the White House matters. What we do on Substack every day and week matters. Waking up every morning trying to keep ourselves informed and engaged politically matters. But nothing matters more than life and death. Nothing matters more than the people we love.

This universe is 13.5 billion years old. The Earth is 4.5 billion years old. We get maybe 60, 70, 80 years if we’re lucky. A brief moment. We have to balance that moment wisely. And the message of my story is for all of us, because I know that what I experienced at Federal Donuts a couple weeks ago in Philly, you all have been through somewhere, sometime, too.

We all want to feel important—recognized in a group, respected online, relevant in the fight. But sometimes the most important thing you’ll ever do is show up for the people who need you.

So the moral is this: balance.

Keep a healthy balance for your own physical health, your own mental health, and your own sanity. Rage into the night when you must. But my God, get out there. It’s a glorious day. Get out there and walk your dog. Fight the good fight. But call your brother. Hold your grandkids.

I spent this past weekend with my grandkids. My daughter and her family live in the middle of nowhere in Northern California. I was getting lousy reception on my phone and my laptop, but it gave me balance. I sat outside at night and looked up at the stars. I went for long walks up in the mountains.

Take care of yourself. Take care of each other. Remember that it’s not about you, or me—it’s about how we help, who we love, and the lives we touch. And recognition? It shouldn’t matter. What matters is that we are here—and for however long we are—we make it mean something beyond ourselves.

It shouldn’t matter if we feel like we’re important. It’s not about us. It’s about the people around us. It’s about the people we love. It’s about humanity that we want to help save. It’s about democracy that we want to preserve. It’s not about us. And man, oh man, was I slapped with that in Federal Donuts in Philadelphia a couple weeks ago.

I want to apologize to every one of you if there have been times where I’ve made it too much about me, or if I’ve been in a bad mood when I do a Substack Live. Shouldn’t be that way.

Let’s all be the exact opposite of Donald Trump this Thanksgiving, a guy who makes everything about himself. Whomever you’re with tomorrow—friends, family, neighbors, dogs—make it about them, not you. Listen to them. Listen to understand them; don’t listen to respond to them.

Thank you for listening to my story.

Here at the Social Contract, we won’t be active here over the next few days, because we’re going to downshift a little bit for the holiday. But we’ll crank it back up on Monday.

Have a restful, peaceful, glorious, and happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I’m Joe Walsh. Everybody out there: be brave.

APPEARANCES FROM THE PAST WEEK:

INTERVIEWS & QUOTES FROM THE PAST WEEK:

• Joan Esposito: Interview with Joe Walsh —WCPT 820

• The Man Trump Charged with Ending the Ukraine War Was Asked What He Thinks of Putin, and It Showed Just What Ukraine (and the Rest of the World) Is Up Against —The Poke

• DOGE ‘Doesn’t Exist’ Anymore: ‘A Total Grift That Achieved Nothing’ —AL.com

• Trump Admin Faces Major Backlash for Targeting American Hero: ‘Petty, Insecure Loser’ —NJ.com

The Social Contract with Joe Walsh is a citizen-supported movement resisting authoritarianism and restoring classic American values like civic engagement, tolerance, and mutual respect. To join our community, sign up to be a free subscriber. To support our mission, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. Thank you!