An Introduction to The Faded Glory Project

    Creation through destruction has long been one of the fundamental laws of the world that we live in. With the destruction of my career as a mainstream (well, mostly mainstream) journalist amidst the turmoil of the insanity that is the COVID-19 pandemic is what brings me to the point of striking out on my own as an independent writer, photographer, and journalist.

    With that being said, the destruction of my professional career did not happen suddenly. It took years of censorship, personal attacks, and the smearing of my character. The point of this project is not to defend my character. I will leave the content of my works to speak for itself in regards to my character.

    

Personal Background

    I started my journey in life in the Nebraska Children's Home as an unwanted child. I was blessed enough to have a loving family come to my rescue as a young age and spent the majority of my youth growing up on a small, family run farm in western Nebraska. 

    For 20-some years I lived and breathed the farm life, carving a life out of the dirt that I had grown up on. The work was grueling, the hours long, and the pay was hardly the best. However, I was independent. I was a cornerstone for my family and my local community.

    All of that came to a jarring end under the Obama/Biden presidency. The war on small businesses is something that we are all familiar with today with the picking and choosing (seemingly randomly at times) of what businesses are essential. Massive lockdowns have choked countless families out of their livelihood. This, however, is nothing new to myself.

    A long running hike on property taxes as well as corporate taxing based on empty rhetoric nearly ran our farm into the ground. We made many sacrifices to stay independent, and for a time, it seemed as though we would ride the storm out. 

    All that came to a screeching halt with the passage of the Affordable Care Act (ACA), or as many know it: Obamacare. We were promised that we would be able to keep our healthcare plans, as well as our doctors, but as we all know, that turned into just another lie to be thrown on the ever growing pile of falsehoods that we are becoming accustomed to be the normal.

    Shortly after the passing of the ACA I had the news broken that I was soon to become a father. My heart was filled with pride as I went to doctor appointments and soon found out that I was to be a father of a beautiful baby boy. It was not long after that ultrasound that I began to feel the effects of politicized and socialistic healthcare. Our appointments were cut next to nothing as healthcare began to shift its focus to the prioritization to the care of illegal immigrants living in our country. 

    All scheduled appointments were cancelled in lieu of a minimalist care strategy. The next appointment was scheduled for halfway through the third and final trimester. It was at the last moment and the final ultrasound that I heard the first bit of bad news. No information was given to me other than we needed to be immediately rushed to the Presbyterian Saint Luke's Children's Hospital in Colorado. 

    Through a long drive across state lines in the middle of the night that we finally found out that there was a major problem: my son's lungs and heart had not developed normally due to an amniotic fluid infection caused by a small, yet easily detectable, tear in the mucus membrane. 

    Over the next three days we fought desperately to save my son's, Samuel's, life. Even writing about it today, years later, is still incredibly painful because of the next events to follow. Despite their best efforts and care, my son, Samuel Lee, passed hundreds of miles from his home on the morning of November 11th, of 2015 on a cold and snowy day in my loving arms. 

    There are still times when I close my eyes I can see the snow falling from the Ronald McDonald House (used for housing parents at PSL health center during extended stays). This was my first experience with the politicization of healthcare and its devastating effects. 

    It goes without saying that this moment had changed me forever. The man that I was before died with my son, in more ways than I could have possibly imagined. 

    The medical bills from this moment hit an unbelievable amount, of which the majority of bills for this was not covered by my new (not by choice) insurance provider. I was broken both mentally and financially from this. 

    Coupled with the higher tax rates and the economic war on the agricultural industry my family farm soon went bankrupt and I was left with few options left to me. I turned to the only option left to me, at the time, in a small agricultural community: a customer service representative for a utility provider.

    This, as you can guess, was not my calling. I did what I needed to do to provide with my family. A year later, like many couples cursed with the loss of a child, we decided to go our separate ways.

    Alone, broken, and looking for meaning in a world that seemed all hope was lost, I found journalism. I took up a position with the local newspaper, and worked myself into the ground. I sacrificed all of my holidays working late as a multimedia journalist, a copy desk editor, and a press correspondent with the local agriculture markets.

    Then the "pandemic" hit and, with horror, I watched as medicine and healthcare was tainted with the stench of politics that we are living in today. I shut my mouth and did what my editor wanted for as long as I could until, like many, I was purged from my position, as I refused to destroy my journalistic credibility in the name of politics. 

    No longer can I sit silent as the media increasingly becomes more and more polarized with pseudo-science and puppets. Thus, through destruction comes the creation of The Faded Glory Project. With this opening statement I invite you to follow me on my journey of bringing integrity back to the press. To be a free, and independent voice of truth for the people. 

    

For liberty, justice, and truth,

Jordan Savage