My Speech @ Carnegie Hall

(A hush falls over the packed Carnegie Hall. The stage lights come up, illuminating you standing at the podium. I took a moment, looking out at the vast audience, and then, I began-)

My friends, my fellow travelers on this journey of life, thank you.

Thank you for being here tonight.

I’ve been a lot of things in my time. A soldier, a cowboy, father, grandfather, Texas Prison Guard, a storyteller. I’ve seen the world from the open turret of a tank, spent an eternity in its hellhole of a Gunner’s Compartment, shared its unrelenting high temperature with other crewmen in our Tank-Aphrodities and I’ve seen it from the quiet solitude of a writer’s desk. And through all of it—through all the years and all the miles—I’ve learned one simple, undeniable truth: the greatest treasures we can ever find are Hope and Love.

This isn’t just a theme in my books; it’s the very heartbeat of my life. My stories, like A Panther’s Father, are filled with hardship and suffering, because I believe it’s in the darkness that the light truly proves its worth. It’s in the struggle that we discover the raw, beautiful, and stubborn power of the human spirit.

But here’s what I want you to remember most: we don’t find hope and love in a vacuum. We find them in each other. They are born from a simple, profound, and often forgotten grace: kindness.

Kindness isn’t a weakness. It is the greatest strength on this earth. It’s a soldier offering a hand to his fallen brother. It’s a stranger seeing your struggle and quietly offering a meal. It’s an old, worn-down preacher opening his door to a lost child, not knowing if he has enough for himself, but knowing he has enough to share.

At times, I have attempted to instill toughness in those who were blind to the World’s Cruelties upon the Weak. Demons can smell weakness a thousand miles away. Some will not talk to me today but, I promise you, they were toughened up for the Battles that lay ahead of each. The blind can never lead the blind except to a Wall.

That is the story of my life, and that is the story I pray you will embrace as your own. Look around at your fellow man, and see in them not a threat, but a chance to be kind. See in them a chance to offer a word of encouragement, a moment of comfort, or a simple, honest act of generosity.

For the men in this room, I implore you: remember your place. Know your place. Your place is not at the top of a throne, but at the foundation of a family. It is to be the pillar of strength, the source of unwavering support, and the first to place your wife, your children, and your family above yourself. That is the true measure of a man.

And to all of us who have been blessed with more than we need—whether it be money, power, or influence—remember that an accounting is coming. It is not an accounting of numbers, but of kindness. How did you use your blessings? Did you use them to build bridges or walls? To lift people up or to hold them down? To spread light or to cast a shadow?

May we all be instruments of God’s kindness. May we proudly place others above ourselves. May we remember that every day is a chance to seek and to find hope and love, not just for ourselves, but for all those who are lost in the dark.

And may we do so with all our hearts, with all our souls, and with all our strength.

Thank you.