For This Issue of JHN...I Decided to Take a Much-Needed “Trump Break”

Alzheimer’s, Love, and the Fierce Rebellion of Living Anyway

I Decided to Take a Much-Needed “Trump Break”

Alzheimer’s, Love, and the Fierce Rebellion of Living Anyway

The Jack Hopkins Now Newsletter #492: Sunday, August 17th, 2025.

I decided to take a much-needed “Trump break” for this issue of Jack Hopkins Now.

Not because the man isn’t still a clear and present danger. Not because he’s stopped selling America out to the highest bidder. But because…if you’re anything like many Americans…you’ve been living in a constant state of clenched teeth and white-knuckled rage over the headlines.

And if we stay there too long…without pause…without perspective…we lose something just as precious as our democracy: our humanity.

So today…I want to write about something different. Something that still hits you in the gut. Something that still makes you stop…breathe…and think about what really matters when the clock is running down.

Because if you strip away all the politics…all the corruption…all the rot we’re fighting against…what’s left?

Love. Memory. The fragile…fleeting thread of a life you can still touch while it’s here.

That’s why I’m telling you about Anthony and Karen.

He’s 55. He was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. And instead of giving in…curling up…waiting for the disease to devour what’s left of his mind…they did something radical: they packed their bags and decided to keep living.

Cruises. Sunsets. Laughter in strange cities. New faces…new ports…new waves under their feet.

Every trip a rebellion. Every smile a middle finger to despair.

Karen will tell you: it’s not easy. The weight she carries as caregiver would crush a weaker spirit. The nights are long…the memory lapses brutal.

But she hasn’t stopped showing up with both grit and grace. She hasn’t stopped loving him out loud…in front of the world…because she knows what’s at stake if she doesn’t.

And here’s the part that twists a knife and inspires you all at once: they don’t know how many more trips they’ll get. They don’t know how many more days of clarity are left. But they go anyway.

Because the clock is ticking for all of us.

The Diagnosis That Shatters…and Reshapes

Anthony was a husband…a worker…a man with routines like any of us. The cracks came quietly at first.

Misplaced keys. Forgotten names. The jokes about “middle-aged forgetfulness” that didn’t land quite right when they kept happening.

Then came the doctor’s visits. The tests. The brutal…clinical phrase “early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

It’s the kind of diagnosis that doesn’t just hit you…it hollows you out. Because we all know what Alzheimer’s does. It strips away the one thing most of us can’t imagine living without: memory.

The little things first: what you had for breakfast…a conversation you had yesterday. Then bigger things: names…faces…history...your own story.

Until one day…the people who love you most look at you…searching for recognition…and you’re gone…while still sitting right there.

That’s what Karen was staring down. That’s what Anthony had to face.

Most couples…right there…would have collapsed under the weight of it. Shut the blinds. Shrank their world. Waited for decline.

Not these two.

Travel as Defiance

They chose travel. Not as distraction…but as defiance.

Think about that for a second. When most people would say, “We can’t…too risky…too complicated…too sad,” Karen and Anthony said, “We will.”

And they didn’t pick the easiest road trips or the safest “staycations.” They boarded cruise ships. They crossed oceans. They wandered port cities where every face was a stranger and every turn could mean getting lost.

But they did it with intention. With courage. With the full awareness that every trip might be their last together in the way they’ve always known.

Karen says cruises became their salvation. Why? Because they’re structured, safe, manageable.

The same room every night…the same staff to help…but new places every morning. It gave Anthony freedom without chaos. It gave her peace of mind without surrender.

She tells stories of sunlit decks…sea breezes…Anthony cracking a smile at some unexpected joke…strangers they met who…without even knowing…became part of their fight to live.

That’s what you feel when you see them together: this isn’t “bucket list tourism.” This is a strategy for survival. It’s an act of war against a disease that wants to erase him.

The Caregiver’s Burden—Invisible but Crushing

Now, let’s not romanticize this. Because the truth is brutal.

Karen is a full-time caregiver. And that weight doesn’t lift when the cruise ship docks. It doesn’t lift when the sunset paints the sky.

It’s there when Anthony forgets where the bathroom is. When he wakes in the middle of the night confused. When she has to explain…again…that no…they’re not at home… and yes, it’s okay…she’s right there.

Caregivers don’t get to clock out. They don’t get “days off.” They love in the trenches… 24/7…knowing full well that love isn’t enough to stop the disease.

And yet…Karen persists. She shows up. She advocates. She holds Anthony’s hand in public…not as a symbol of pity…but as proof: this is love in its fiercest form.

We talk about heroes in politics…in sports…in battlefields. But caregiving? That’s a battlefield too. And Karen is a general.

Advocacy in Action…From the Cruise Ship to Capitol Hill

What makes Karen different is that she isn’t just fighting for Anthony. She’s fighting for millions.

She’s taken her story from the cruise deck to the halls of Congress. She’s an advocate with the Alzheimer’s Impact Movement.

She tells lawmakers what it’s really like to live with this disease…not just the statistics…but the sleepless nights…the financial strain…the emotional wreckage.

She stands in front of people who have the power to fund research…expand care…give families hope…and she tells them…with Anthony’s story in her voice…why they must act.

And let me tell you something: when Karen speaks…people listen. Because you can’t argue with love. You can’t turn away from a woman who’s decided that if her husband’s memory is fading…she’ll make the world remember for him.

Why This Story Matters to You

You may not have a loved one with Alzheimer’s. Maybe you do. But even if you don’t… here’s why this story should grab you by the throat:

Because it’s not really about Alzheimer’s.

It’s about what happens when life deals you a card you didn’t ask for…didn’t deserve…and can’t put back in the deck.

It’s about how you respond when the clock is ticking…not just for Anthony and Karen… but for all of us.

We’re all on borrowed time. We just pretend otherwise. Anthony and Karen can’t pretend. And so they live every day with a rawness most of us run from.

That’s why this story is a mirror.

It forces you to ask: What am I doing with my time? What memories am I making while I still can?

My friend, this is where I level with you.

I could spend every issue chasing Trump’s latest outrage. I could keep hammering the daily corruption and creeping authoritarianism. And…I will. Believe me…I will.

But sometimes, what you need…the fuel you need to keep fighting…isn’t more rage:

It’s a reminder of why we fight.

We fight so people like Anthony and Karen can have the dignity of living…loving…remembering…even when the odds are stacked against them.

We fight so the next diagnosis doesn’t come with despair…but with real options.

We fight so love doesn’t get erased by neglect…by corruption…by leaders who think people are disposable.

That’s why I write these stories. That’s why Jack Hopkins Now exists. And if you’re not a paid subscriber yet, I’m asking you…today…to take that step.

Because free stories keep you informed. But the paid side? That’s what keeps this work alive. That’s what ensures the fight continues…not just against Trump…but against every force that tells us we don’t matter.

So here’s my ask: if this story moved you…even a little…step up. Join me. Join the inner circle. Be part of the force that keeps the lights on and the stories flowing.

The Horizon and the Clock

Picture it one last time: Anthony and Karen, standing side by side on the deck of a ship as the sun melts into the ocean.

He doesn’t always remember where they’ve been. Sometimes he can’t remember where they’re going. But in that moment…he remembers her hand in his. He remembers laughter. He remembers love.

And isn’t that the point?

Life isn’t about how much time we have. It’s about what we do with it.

The clock is ticking…for Anthony…for Karen…for all of us.

So…let’s make it count.

I hope you rest well tonight. I do.

Here with you…through think and thin…

-Jack