For my brother, one of the old stock who plays guitar and sings

What will happen when all of the real men are gone? The ones who can build, install, plumb, lay, and fix all manner of things with their own two hands – a dying breed of the old stock, they say. What will happen when all of the real men are gone? Will no buildings be built, no cars fixed, no oil changed, no lights installed? Everything broken and in disarray? What will happen when all of the real men are gone? When finally all of the hammers grow rusty, the wood rotting from their handles for lack of use. When nails fall from our shelves, and we just sweep them out into the ground for we know not what they’re for or from where they’ve come. When the fields lay fallow and unmilked cows roam on the highways, will we all just wander out into the uncut grass then, singing loudly and playing our guitars until all of the strings break? Will we simply lift our voices in unison, eventually harmony, and call it heaven?

– Emily Wagner

Author’s Note: “When All of the Real Men Are Gone” is a tongue-in-cheek response to the idea that there is a stock of men that keeps our civilization going. We are surrounded by all sorts of men who are valuable parts of our society for reasons for which they may never be acknowledged.