A Few Gallons of Compassion

The conflict in Iran has driven oil prices from around $60 a barrel to over $100, and those costs roll downhill fast. Gasoline, diesel, heating oil, and natural gas rise almost instantly. Groceries, airline tickets, and anything shipped to market follow more slowly. Inflation climbs. For many Americans, a jump at the pump is frustrating but manageable — we grumble, we swipe our cards, and our routines continue unchanged. For others, it becomes a genuine financial crisis.

Those who suffer most are those least able to adapt: people living paycheck to paycheck, small business owners keeping work trucks on the road, families balancing gasoline, groceries, rent, and daycare while trying to hold their lives together one week at a time. Self-employed farmers don't care about record stock markets — they care about the cost of diesel and fertilizer they pay directly out of pocket. The Wall Street Journal has reported that Americans have collectively spent roughly $45 billion more on gasoline and diesel since the conflict began, while investors in oil-and-gas companies watch their portfolios grow. The burden and the benefit fall on very different people.

I don't want to add another political argument to the noise surrounding this crisis. Instead, I find my thoughts drifting to a moment I witnessed during the gasoline spike of 2008 — when prices climbed to levels that, adjusted for inflation, remain among the highest Americans have seen in modern times.

I was living in Mansfield, Massachusetts, and stopped at a gas station one afternoon to fill my car. A young woman pulled into the space beside me, driving an older car that had clearly seen difficult years. In the back seat was a toddler in a child seat. I overheard her ask the attendant for two dollars' worth of gasoline. Even in 2008, that was less than half a gallon.

Then I heard it — coins dropping through the stainless-steel slot beneath the glass window as she counted out the money. Not dollar bills. Coins.

I found myself imagining her story. It was late afternoon. There was a toddler in the back seat. Perhaps she was heading to an evening shift somewhere — a restaurant, a store — while dropping her child with her mother to babysit. Someone trying to stretch every dollar to make it through another week.

Whether my imagined story was accurate almost didn't matter. The reality before me was plain enough: she was counting change to buy less than a half-gallon of gas.

I thought about my own mother, years earlier, struggling when I was young to make sure there was enough food on the table and enough money to keep life moving forward one more day. So I walked over to the attendant and quietly told him to fill her tank — twenty dollars' worth.

It wasn't a fortune. It wasn't enough to change anyone's life. But for that young woman, on that particular afternoon, perhaps it mattered more than I knew.

What strikes me now is that we have been through these periods repeatedly. Different presidents, different crises, different political arguments — but the same burden falling hardest on the working poor and struggling middle class every single time. Energy price spikes are not rare events. They happen through wars, supply disruptions, and surges in global demand, again and again. Each time, Americans argue endlessly over policy while millions of ordinary people are simply trying to make it to work, pick up their children, buy groceries, and survive another week financially intact.

What has also changed is how easy it has become not to notice. Years ago, more people paid cash inside gas stations. You overheard conversations. You saw people counting bills. Today most of us swipe a card at the pump and never interact with another person. The struggles around us have become nearly invisible — but they are still there.

The old car running on nearly empty. The work truck being filled a few gallons at a time. The parent quietly calculating how much gas can be purchased while still leaving enough for food. These are not rare stories in America, particularly during inflationary periods and energy shocks.

There are real policy responses worth debating — suspending the federal gas tax, coordinating with governors on state-level relief, targeting assistance to those most affected. Leaders should be pressed to act on those options rather than pointing to rising stock portfolios when working people ask how they'll get through the week. People living paycheck to paycheck don't have 401(k)s. They have gas tanks to fill and children to feed.

But policy moves slowly, and people are struggling right now.

So rather than one more political argument, I would ask something simpler of those of us fortunate enough that rising prices won't truly alter our lives — those who have seen portfolios climb since the conflict began and can afford to share a little at the margins.

When you stop for gas over the next few weeks, take a moment to look around.

Maybe you notice someone putting only a few dollars into the tank. Maybe you recognize the signs of someone keeping an older vehicle on the road because they have no other choice. Maybe you simply sense that someone nearby is having a hard time.

If you can afford it, perhaps quietly walk over and ask:

"Could I fill your tank for you?"

Not for social media recognition. Not to make a political statement. Just one person helping another person through a difficult moment.

We cannot control wars, oil markets, or geopolitical crises. But we can choose how we treat the people standing beside us in everyday life.

Sometimes a few gallons of compassion can mean far more than we imagine.

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Artemis II and the Search for Meaning and Purpose

Something was striking about the public reaction to the ten-day Artemis II mission around the moon. People were genuinely engaged—watching closely, discussing it, and following each development with anticipation. Yet for those of us who lived through the early years of the space program, a quiet question lingered beneath the excitement: haven't we done this before?

We orbited the moon in the 1960s. We landed on it and returned safely. So why does a mission that retraces those steps stir something so deeply again?

The answer lies not in the technology but in what it represents. When John F. Kennedy committed the nation to reaching the moon, he did more than set a goal. He gave a generation direction. That single objective reshaped science and engineering and, more importantly, instilled in people a sense of belonging to something larger than themselves. It was not merely an engineering challenge. It was a statement of purpose.

Catholic Just War Doctrine in a Time of War

I am not a theologian, but I relied on the Catholic just war tradition during a time of war, when the decisions before me carried consequences measured in human lives. That tradition, refined over nearly two thousand years, exists precisely for moments like that. Today, the Church articulates that tradition through a clear moral framework—what we call just war doctrine. 

I want to make a case—to Catholics and non-Catholics alike—that this tradition matters now. Pope Leo XIV has spoken powerfully about peace. That emphasis may reflect a pastoral corrective in a violent moment, but he has not engaged with the doctrine the Church itself provides.

The Strait of Hormuz: Secure the Present, Build a Different Future

In the late 1980s, I worked at the Office of Naval Intelligence, supporting U.S. naval operations in the Persian Gulf. One of those operations was Earnest Will, the largest convoy escort mission since World War II. American warships protected reflagged Kuwaiti tankers from Iranian mines and small-boat attacks. Despite those threats, the operation succeeded. The Strait remained open, and Iran ultimately backed down.

That success, however, masked a larger failure. We solved the immediate problem but left the underlying one intact. Iran retained the ability to threaten the strait, and the world remained dependent on it. Four decades later, we are paying the price.

Today, the Strait of Hormuz is effectively closed again. Commercial shipping has fallen by more than 90 percent, and millions of barrels of oil per day have been removed from the market. Prices have surged past $100 a barrel, and economies that depend heavily on Gulf energy, particularly in Asia, are scrambling to adjust. This was not an unforeseen development; it was the predictable result of a vulnerability that was never addressed.

Birthright Citizenship: A Personal Take on the Supreme Court Arguments

This week, I listened to the Supreme Court’s oral arguments in Donald J. Trump, President of the United States, et al. v. Barbara, et al.—a case that could redefine birthright citizenship in America. Both sides presented serious legal interpretations, and anyone claiming certainty about the outcome is probably allowing politics to influence their thinking. We should expect a ruling by the end of the Court’s term in June.

My interest in this case extends beyond academic curiosity. I minored in law during college and seriously considered law school, but I ultimately pursued a career as a Naval Intelligence officer. While serving in Washington, D.C., I lived just a few blocks behind the Supreme Court building and the Capitol and spent years witnessing how law and policy function in real-world situations—often in more complex ways than they appear from an outsider's perspective. This case is just as complex.

Some History Worth Knowing

The 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments, ratified between 1865 and 1870, aimed to rebuild the nation after the Civil War and ensure equal rights for formerly enslaved people. The 14th Amendment, in particular, granted citizenship to “all persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof,” while also securing due process and equal protection.

That language was clear in its immediate purpose but left room for interpretation—especially the phrase “subject to the jurisdiction thereof.” That ambiguity is precisely what the Court is now being asked to resolve.

Book Announcement: Brotherhood and Borders

 After more than a decade of writing about immigration and political division, my new book is now available on Amazon:

Brotherhood and Borders: Immigration, Compassion, and the Rule of Law in America

Immigration is not simply a border issue. It is a moral issue, a structural issue, and ultimately a credibility issue.

This book examines:

• Why reform efforts repeatedly fail

• How political incentives distort outcomes

• Why enforcement moved from controlled settings into public confrontation

• And what success would actually look like

It is written for readers who want structure instead of slogans.

Available now in hardcover and Kindle at this link:  https://a.co/d/0dNb2L9I

Please consider purchasing the book and if you find it informative and helpful in moving us closer to resolving this issue, share the link with friends, family, and influential people on this issue in Congress and in your state and local government.  Thank you, Dan Gallagher

Wake Up, America: Minneapolis and the Escalation We Pretended Wouldn’t Come

The death of Renée Nicole Good in Minneapolis is tragic. A life ended suddenly and violently, and no decent person should be indifferent to that. Almost immediately, the country split into familiar camps, each racing to advance a narrative before the facts had settled. As usual, nothing was learned, and tensions only rose.

Whatever the final legal findings say, one thing is already clear: this event did not occur in isolation. It fits a pattern that has been building for years. We can keep pretending these are isolated incidents, or we can face what the evidence is telling us. The divide over immigration enforcement is producing predictable—and preventable—tragedies.

The Data Tells a Story

Immigration enforcement happens in two fundamentally different ways. In cooperative jurisdictions, when local police arrest someone for an unrelated crime, ICE can lodge a detainer—a request to hold that person briefly so ICE can take custody when local charges are resolved. The transfer happens inside a jail, controlled and administrative. In non-cooperative sanctuary jurisdictions, local authorities refuse these detainers. This forces ICE to locate and arrest people in the community—at homes, workplaces, during traffic stops, and on streets. One method happens behind secure walls. The other happens in public—where crowds form, tensions escalate, and split-second decisions can turn deadly.

Between January 20 and October 15, 2025, ICE made more than 217,000 arrests in the country’s interior (Prison Policy Initiative analysis of ICE data). The majority of those arrested had either prior criminal convictions or pending criminal charges, while approximately 33% were arrested for immigration status violations only. It is not known how many individuals in this latter category were arrested in conjunction with another arrest or were subject to final deportation orders.