There is certainly a dearth when it comes to men who really understand what it means to be manly. That statement alone is (hopefully) causing every single one of my readers to either applaud, become angry, or wonder what the heck I’m thinking. But let’s ponder this.

Part of it is the blurring of the gender roles. Women want more rights, more freedoms, and more responsibility. And rightly so! They are people just as men are people. They have thoughts and feelings and hopes, and should have the same opportunities to live out and pursue them.

So this is all well and good, but it seems to cause men to shy away from women. We don’t want women to confuse our chivalry with looking down on them. We don’t want them to conclude that we are saying they are incapable when we hold a door open for them. Now, before anyone goes balking about that, it’s true. Plain and simple. I’ve experienced women who get really upset when a guy holds a door for them. And to those women, I say grow up. And to the men who are afraid of upsetting women by doing gentlemanly type things, I say grow up. Go ahead and upset them. If they are going to be upset by your chivalry, then let’em get upset. Let them experience a guy who doesn’t give a rip if they are offended by him valuing her and treating her like a lady. If that’s what she wants to let upset her, then I say upset her as much as you possibly can!

But all this stems from a pretty awesome site I stumbled across. The art of manliness. Yes. The art of manliness. You can find it right here. And it’s pretty great. It has all sorts of fun manly tips and tricks. But beyond the humorous things, it really calls men to our rich heritage as men.

A soldier, Sullivan Ballou, wrote his wife this love letter just before he died:

July the 14th, 1861

Washington D.C.

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days-perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure-and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing-perfectly willing-to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows-when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children-is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death-and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and “the name of honor that I love more than I fear death” have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me-perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar-that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night-amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours-always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father’s love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God’s blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

Sullivan

That is the lost art of being a man.

Here’s a reading of it:

Being a man doesn’t mean being in incredible shape, scoring lots of hot chicks, and being able to hold your liquor. No sir, that’s a sissy, modern view of what it means to be a man. And it’s flat out wrong. And I think we’re all pretty tired of it, except for you sissy frat boys who think you’re cool. Well, you’re not.

Let’s stop hiding behind our drinks. Let’s stop hiding behind our muscles. Let’s stop hiding behind our video games. Let’s stop hiding behind whatever the heck it is we’re hiding behind, and let’s just do it. Let’s reclaim that wonderful lost art of manliness, and let’s show this world what a few good gentlemen can do!