Stan was in church last Sunday---I saw him there (we're in the same ward ... again ... which hasn't happened for about 30 years), dressed in a white shirt and tie (he sees clothes simply as the outward sign of inward feeling, and he his devout in his religious obligations, although his not overfond of formal wear, especially ties). Stan is an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints---a Mormon, that is. (And he's a lot like I imagine the General was---Mormon, that is.) He is as you have seen him: a big man who loves his country and his freedom, and knows more about both than anyone else I know. And be careful: you may know people who condemn by appearance, but the Master does not: "Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgement" (John 7:24). I don't know who led you to the hasty generalization that the Church rejects people for looking like Stan (Elijah, John the Baptist, Samson, Porter Rockwell ... folks like that)---such need to indulge in some serious introspection and repentance (I prefer the Greek metanoeo "change of mind" or the Hebrew shube "turn" or nacham "regret" to the harshness of the Latinate repent "[to subject to] harsh punishment"---of course, it doesn't mean that anymore: etymology is not definition ... but still). In any case, I do not, I dare not, judge anybody. And judging a man like Stan---or his devotion to his Liegelord, Jesus the Christ---based on his beard and demeanor is likely to be both inaccurate and embarrassing. He will likely not be offended: he's been misjudged hastily before, and he has very kindly corrected those who have misjudged him. As for American Ride, it is a direct outpouring of Stan-ness. He will teach anyone who will listen the intricacies of history, and his enthusiasm is pleasantly contagious. He will pull no punches, however, in his certain knowledge of Whose power it is "that has made and preserved us a nation."
Of course, he has been called a rebel: He always ate all the mashed potatoes, defeated the computer at the Annapolis Naval Academy in war games, taught me everything I know about World War II, and most of what I know about World War I, the Civil War, and the Revolution. He used to do calisthenics during commercial breaks, and practiced his sharpshooting down in the basement during halftimes. I watched him practice his blade work by tossing apples into the air and then cutting them in half as they fell. He taught me how to fire a shotgun, how to follow a football game (and baseball, and wrestling, and basketball), and how to serve a Mission. He speaks fluent French, is as strong as an ox, loves teaching history, loves his family fiercely, and has studied military strategy since he was about seven. He's as Mormon as Mormon was himself, probably, and I'd follow either of them into battle anytime, anywhere.
But that's what we little brothers do.