I grew up poor, raised by a man with an Ivy League degree. 3 luxuries matter: Home-cooked meals. A car that starts every time you turn the key. Two weeks of vacation each year. Everything else is BE. And yes, I said luxuries. We ate at one reasonably priced restaurant maybe six times a year. I didn’t even taste sushi until I was in college. Even those luxuries were limited. Every meal was made with store-brand groceries. The cars were reliable used cars. Ask AI for “the most reliable used car with the lowest resale value.” Vacations = free museums, state parks, beaches, battlefields, and camping. No Disney. Hershey or Six Flags maybe once a year. The essentials? Clothes: Salvation Army. Honestly, this one sucked, but today Walmart & Target make it easier. Fixer-upper: I’m talking serious problems. You need a solid foundation, walls & a roof. Everything else can be fixed with Harbor Freight tools, YouTube, and sweat equity. We literally bought an abandoned house in a good neighborhood. I live in rural Massachusetts. My neighborhood has $1 million homes. I bought an abandoned house and restored it, but just outside my neighborhood there are still homes for $300,000. Medical: Before settling down, one of you should get a government job with benefits or join the military before having kids. Time: This is the hardest part. My dad was a firefighter, so he’d work double shifts, then spend his days off repairing the house. Activities: Boy Scouts, Civil Air Patrol, church choir, church camp, etc. Sign your kids up for free or cheap activities. Education: Teach your kids everything you know. Read to them for an hour every night. DAD INTEL: This is the big one. Build a network. Know where to get discounted building materials, who has tools, who’ll loan you a trailer or skid steer. Firefighters, cops, National Guard members, tradesmen & church communities have always been great for this, but those networks are disappearing. Family: Live within three hours of relatives if you can. Someday you’ll need emergency babysitting or another guy to help lift something heavy. What to avoid like the plague: NO COSTCO: Unless you’re extremely disciplined, you’ll buy more than you need. NO HOME DEPOT: Lumber isn’t always the best value, tools are overpriced, and those marble countertops start looking “necessary.” Formica from a local building supply works just fine. NO FLIGHTS. We won a trip to London when I was five. It nearly bankrupted us. No flights anywhere. Fast food. This was my dad’s biggest weakness because it was cheap and easy. Again: NO RESTAURANTS. They add up fast, and you’re paying for convenience more than nutrition. No drinking or drugs. Bad decisions usually start with small compromises. No expensive hobbies. Your hobby is fixing the house, improving the yard, and coaching your kid’s Little League team. Fish from shore if you want a hobby. Dig for worms. You don’t need $15 lures. No subscriptions. You don’t need Netflix. I have plenty of money now and didn’t even own a TV until recently. You don’t need home security cameras if you own an inexpensive firearm. You don’t need Uber or constant Amazon deliveries. Now the big one: You’ll feel like shit. You’ll think you’ve failed as a dad. You’ll envy the families with nicer houses, newer cars, and bigger vacations. Don’t. This is not a competition. Your job is to be a great father, love your wife, raise capable kids, and become a productive member of society. The antidote is gratitude. Go to church. Every Sunday, thank God for what you have. Gratitude is critical. It also helps if your work serves the public: firefighter, police officer, teacher, construction worker, sanitation worker, military. Mental health problems? Start with the basics. Stay physically active, journal for 30 minutes a day & pray a full rosary. “But John, that’s extreme.” Maybe. But you’ll still be better off than 80% of Europoors.

Today at my local liberal-elite coffee shop in Massachusetts, a small crowd gathered around a single mom with a one-year-old. She explained that after giving birth, while home alone eating her own placenta, she realized she was actually a man. That revelation, she said, forced the “most harrowing decision” of her life. She wanted to breastfeed her baby but couldn’t continue doing so while taking testosterone. She chose to transition anyway because she didn’t want to “lie” to her child about who she really was. But it gets better. She felt no guilt depriving her child of breast milk, yet did feel guilty about losing “skin-on-skin breast nuzzles” so she has postponed her mastectomy. But wait, there’s more. Because she didn’t feel authentically male with breasts, she intentionally gained dozens of pounds on top of her pregnancy weight, explaining that it’s normal for “larger men to have breasts.” Now she wants to encourage husbands to gain weight alongside their pregnant wives so they, too, can experience “skin-on-skin breast nuzzles.” The term “skin-on-skin breast nuzzles,” was mentioned at least a dozen times. It was the third most used term I overheard after “authentic self” and “you are so brave.” She also wants more men to grow beards because she read that babies benefit from playing with facial hair. She thinks this is something the “Muslim tradition really gets right.” Yes, she had a beard. A scraggly one. She’s also considering starting a foundation to promote this work but probably couldn’t because “Trump has made 501(c)(3)s basically illegal” and doesn’t want the “gestapo stopping us.” She may instead “go underground” and accept cash donations instead. The small crowd nodded enthusiastically through every word. One older woman suggested that more “skin-on-skin breast nuzzles” and “beard play” might be the cure for “so many young American boys becoming fascists.” It remained unclear whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Nobody dared ask.