Patio Pondering: Witnessing Influence Close to Home

This morning’s coffee is hot and strong, and the view from the patio is a mix of mist and sunshine—a promise of a good day here in NE Indiana.

My social media and podcast feeds are full of Charlie Kirk. Some posts reminisce about his influence, others speculate about the circumstances of his death. Truth be told, I didn’t know much about him beyond the occasional clip on television or online. I’m old enough to be his father, and I was never his target audience.

What struck me yesterday, though, was how many young people in my own life—including my children—posted about him. Some celebrated his work, others grieved his loss. Until then, I had no idea how much his voice had mattered right here, close to home.

In recent months I’ve attended funerals that spanned generations: the heartbreak of a teenager’s life cut short, the celebration of a centenarian who began life with a horse and buggy. Each left me reflecting on influence, legacy, and what we leave behind. Charlie’s passing is different for me—not because I knew him, but because I didn’t, and yet I’m now seeing the echoes of his influence in the people around me.

I may never fully understand why his voice carried so much weight for the young people in my life, but I cannot ignore the depth of their reaction. His passing reminds me that influence is not always visible until it is gone. Perhaps this is one of those moments that will nudge them to stand taller, to seek what is steady and true in a world that often chases noise. I’ll be watching with curiosity—and maybe even hope—to see what comes of it.