I’m NOT John McCain

(But I Feel Like Him Sometimes)

I’m not John McCain. But sometimes, sitting quietly in the corner of a world that rewards shouting, I feel the same way he probably did — misunderstood, principled, and perpetually out of fashion. Some days it’s even more personal: I know what I believe, I know it makes sense, and yet, somehow, everyone else seems to think I’m the problem. Extremity is louder. Certainty is rewarded. And those of us who try to think carefully, reflect honestly, or hold moderate views? We end up feeling like the last person in the room who still remembers the rules of the game.

There was a time when decisions felt easy. I didn’t have the perspective to appreciate multiple variables, and I lacked the maturity to ask the tougher questions. The world seemed neatly divided into right and wrong, black and white. Certainty was comfortable, and I moved through politics, faith, and society without hesitation — not because I had all the answers, but because I hadn’t yet realized how much I didn’t know. Looking back, that simplicity was a kind of ease, but it came at the cost of curiosity, reflection, and the depth of understanding I now value.

Sometimes it feels like the world has become a competition for who can shout the loudest. In politics, media, and even some faith communities, extremity is rewarded, nuance punished, and anyone who hesitates to pick a side is treated like a ghost. Opinions are not debated; they are branded. Moderation is mocked, compromise is ignored, and careful reasoning is treated as weakness. You could spend hours explaining a well-thought-out point, only to have someone dismiss it with a single tweet or a catchphrase.

I’ve noticed that this dynamic doesn’t just shape conversation — it shapes people. Loudness and certainty become easier, while reflection and restraint feel costly. It’s tempting to surrender your judgment to the tribe, to pick a side and shout along just to survive socially. But doing so comes with an invisible toll: you trade your ability to think critically, to weigh multiple shades of gray, for social acceptance. That’s why those who hold moderate views often feel invisible, irrelevant, or out of step.

And yet, there is a strange freedom in embracing that outsider position. You’re not bound to the latest outrage. You don’t have to echo the prevailing certainty. You can pause, reflect, and act according to principle — even if it earns no applause. Sometimes, it even feels a little like being John McCain: misunderstood, overlooked, or even branded a traitor, yet stubbornly committed to the values you hold, no matter how unfashionable they’ve become

So, yes, I’m not John McCain — and for the record, I was in the Navy too. But in my case, the heroics mostly involved surviving morning formation without tripping over my own feet. The point isn’t the uniform or the record; it’s the principle. To navigate a world dominated by the loudest voices, we have to embrace our own quiet presence, our careful reasoning, and our willingness to act with integrity, even when no one applauds. Maybe that makes us out of fashion — but sometimes, that’s exactly the point.