I found a letter from 1994 tucked inside a stack of old assay reports today

The paper is yellowed and smells like the inside of a cedar chest, but the optimism in those lines is what really stings. My workbench is still warm from the afternoon sun, and as the golden hour settles over the scrub brush, I can't help but look at my tools and wonder where we lost the trail. We spent thirty years handing the keys to the kingdom to China while we argued over paperwork, and now we act surprised that the race is uphill. Rebuilding a supply chain isn't like flipping a light switch; it’s more like rehabilitating an old mine shaft where the timbering has gone soft. I’m sitting here in the quiet wondering if we still have the collective patience to dig our way back out of the hole we spent three decades favoring.