Patriotism... it aint for Sissies!

"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness.  You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism."  Erma Bombeck had such a knack for stating truth with humor… and I totally love her thought!

I am a Patriotic sap.  One year on the 4^th of July I watched 4 patriotic movies:

1. “Stars and Stripes Forever” with Clifton Web as John Phillip Sousa, the writer of that very famous Americana song by the same name.
2. "1776"  - the musical about the Declaration of Independence
3. Yankee Doodle Dandy, starring James Cagney as world renown American songwriter and performer George M. Cohan
4. The American President with Michael Douglas and Annette Benning – the movie from which they developed the best TV show ever written, “The West Wing.” 

In addition to the movies, I watched “A Capitol 4^th” (the glorious music and fireworks display from Washington DC) - both times that it was on PBS – one right after the other – for 4 hours!  I probably cried at least a dozen times in the course of the day - just being touched by things to do with the country that I am proud to call my own.

Now I’m going to tell you a secret, and you have to promise you won’t tell a soul. I am a recovering Republican. I have been in recovery for a long time. It hasn’t been easy overcoming my radically fundamentalist Baptist background.  I didn't even consider the options when I registered as a Republican at age 18. I just did what my parents had done.  But when I was in my mid 30s, I met some amazing people who changed my perspective on many things, and I began letting go of my Fundamentalism. If my extremely right-wing father was alive, he would say that I went over to the Dark Side.

Yes… I am now a registered Democrat.  I am an extremely liberal Democrat.   I am not only a liberal – I am so far to the left on the political continuum that I am in danger of looping on around and winding up in a Tea Party meeting.  So it is very easy for me to join the many liberals who are not happy with our current radical-right Republicans.  I’ve even had people suggest that there is something wrong with saying I am proud to be an American – that there’s something wrong with celebrating Independence Day because of the damage Donald Trump and his minions have done and are continuing to do in this country.   

I entirely disagree.  I think we need our patriotic celebrations more than ever.  We need something to remind us of our core principles - and all that this country has overcome in the last two and a half centuries.

Obviously, the USA has all kinds of problems – all kinds of inequality – all kinds of reprehensible things being done to people in the name of preserving our peace and security.  This country is a mess in many ways… and it’s been a mess for a while.   But if I only focus on the messy part, I can begin to doubt my patriotism and wonder if it’s something I should be ashamed of.  Patriotism ain’t for sissies.  Flag waving in the current climate is a risky thing for a liberal, but something I think we need more than ever. 

Russian immigrant and author Vera Nazarian wrote: “Patriotism is a commitment to what is best inside us all.”  I like that… a commitment to what is best inside us all.  You live in America  - I live in America  - no matter what color, creed, gender, age or religion we are, we can mutually choose to gather in peaceful celebration of the birth of this country -  and of the possibilities of America - possibilities that are definitely NOT available in many many other places. 

 

I was married for the first and only time on Independence Day 1975 – at 5:30AM, in Scottsdale, AZ.  I wanted an outside wedding, and in Scottsdale in July – the only way to do that and not wind up with the honored guests dropping to the ground from heat stroke - was to have it early in the morning.  I have always loved the 4^th of July, and it just seemed like the perfect day to get married.  It’s a happy holiday – I mean – in places where it’s not 114°, people have parades and picnics in the park, and they eat traditional American food like hot dogs, corn-on-the-cob, and blueberry pie.  Everything is festively red, white, and blue… and you get to shamelessly listen to John Phillip Sousa while watching things be set on fire and blown up. What could be better than that?

There were no friendly picnics or music-filled parades on July 4th, 1776.   During the revolutionary war, we were still officially British subjects, fighting our own government for independence.  It would be like if Arizona suddenly declared war on the United States so they could become an independent nation.  There was an actual state of war declared between the colonies and England long before this group of traitors applied their pens to the radical Declaration of Independence!

 

Fifty-six men, chosen by the good people of the colonies, signed the Declaration. These were not wild-eyed rabble-rousers. Eighteen of the signers were merchants or businessmen, 14 were farmers, and four were doctors. Twenty-four were lawyers and judges. They were well-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. They signed the Declaration knowing full well that if they were captured, the penalty for this act of treason against the King would be their death – and probably the death of those they loved.   But they had a dream of independence – and were willing to give their all - even their lives - to see that dream come into reality.

Hopefully most of us will never have to risk our lives for our dreams like Jefferson, Franklin, Hancock and 53 other patriotic "NON-Sissies."  I still choose to believe there is tremendous hope for this country because one of our most revered documents says: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."   Many people’s rights are still being trampled in this country -  which is totally unacceptable.  And still, compared to the Sudan, Yemen, Afghanistan, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, the Congo, Pakistan, Libya, Ethiopia, and so many other countries where hope of ever having personal freedom has been all but extinguished, America offers far more hope based on the dreams and actions of our founding fathers… and all who have fought and served to protect our freedom in this incredible country we live in.

So – patriotism is not easy – especially when you are at odds with the things going on in the country you love.  But it’s not about any particular leader or group or conviction or religion or political party.  It’s about honoring what America has stood for the last 243 years.  Through wars and financial crises and planes crashing into buildings and crazy people with guns killing our children… even in the midst of the insanity – America still stands, and offers potential for a better future.

 

I’m proud to be an American.  Let me say that again.  I’m proud to be an American.  You can disagree with me - you can say I don’t know what I’m talking about – you can even tell other people I am out of my mind.  You can verbally attack people who believe differently than you – express your disgust with people who don’t see things your way. You can tweet or post on Facebook or write a blog or stand on a street corner and attack the very things I most love at the top of your lungs.  You are free to do that because you live in America – and so many have put their lives on the line to guarantee your inalienable right to disagree with me and anyone else you choose!

Patriotism is not for Sissies.  It takes guts to stand up for what you believe. Do you have the guts to join me?

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." 

Happy Independence Day… and Namaste.

Dino Molly

Today is the 5^th anniversary of the transition of my dear friend Molly Pearce Eaker.  In her honor – I wrote this story.  The details may not be exact, but the basic story is true.  I love you and miss you so much, Mollywog!  Thanks for being such a gift in my life!

DINO MOLLY

When Molly was young, she had this love affair with Little Foot, the young Brontosaurus ("Longneck") from the movie “Land Before Time.”  We watched that movie  over and over and over when I was Molly’s caregiver. I grew to know Cera Triceratops, Spike Stegosaurus, Chomper Tyrannosaurus and all of Little Foot’s other friends very VERY VERY well!  

One of Molly’s most prized possessions was a large stuffed Little Foot that she carried around everywhere. Unfortunately, there were times when Little Foot would sneak away somewhere – into a place where Molly could not find him.  Enter a Molly Meltdown.  Little Foot had to be within her range of vision at all times, and if he was not, the world collapsed around her.  I remember many many frantic dino-hunts, sometimes for Little Foot, and sometimes for another very important Dinosaur in Molly’s life, Barney. Seems we were always hunting for one or the other.  And with Molly there was no “Let’s look for it later after we finish this game.”  It had to be NOW, or the walls came tumbling down!

One morning shortly after I arrived, we were playing dress up, and she realized she didn’t see Little Foot anywhere.  I was dispatched to search for him, which I did for about 10 minutes, with no success.  I called Molly's mom, Melisa, to see if maybe Little Foot got left in the car, but Molly had not been in the car since he disappeared. He had to be hiding someplace in the house.  After 15 minutes, Molly began working up to what I knew would be a dramatic encounter.  She wanted Little Foot, and she wanted him now.  I managed to find Barney and offered him to her, but she wanted nothing to do with that goofy smiling purple and green reptile.  I was tearing through her toys, her closet, her bedroom, every room in the house she might have been in – but no luck.  She followed me around, dragging her feeding pump behind her  – getting louder and louder in her protests… and I have to be honest – I was starting to panic too.  

After about 20 minutes (that seemed like 20 hours) I remember looking back at Molly and noticing that she was not only crying, but her eyes were starting to get that glazed over look – so I said loudly,  “Molly… try to remember… when did you last see Little Foot?”  She was making too much noise on her own to hear me – so I kind of shouted at her – but no response.  I reached down and took one of her hands in each of mine… looking right at her… and saying very loudly  “Molly Jo Pearce… LOOK AT ME!”  She kind of jumped – and for a moment I got her attention. Quickly I said it again “When did you last see Little Foot?”   There was a pause, and then her eyes opened wide and she blurted out “We brushed our teeth together this morning – in the bathroom!”

I had looked in the bathroom probably 5 separate times, but I rushed back again.  No Little Foot. Then it came to me.  “Come on Molly!”  I grabbed her hand, pulling her and her pump behind me to the laundry room.  There, in a basket, under some wet towels, was Little Foot, slightly damp, but otherwise in fine condition.  He must have gotten accidentally swept up with the towels by someone who had no idea what trauma they were about to cause!  Molly grabbed the dinosaur and hugged him to her, tears still on her pale cheeks.  I stood there, my breath coming fast from exertion and stress, my clothes rumpled and my hair tousled from shoving my head  in closets and under beds.  

After a minute, Molly looked up at me with those big innocent eyes, smiled and said quietly, “I was never worried.  I knew where he was all the time!”

Adventures in Electricity or "Have You Been to CAP yet?"

This story is true.  The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

It’s Phoenix in August, 1996.  I am two months behind on my electric bill, and the past due is $185.00.  My disability check is late, child support checks are being held up on a technicality, and I have received no money for two months.  Our current food supply for myself, my 9 year old daughter and my 11 year old son consists of  2  cans of green beans, a package of chili seasoning and a half-empty box of oatmeal.  I have an appointment to get a food box later in the day, so for now - the utilities are the most pressing issue. I hear about an agency in town called Community Action Program (CAP), which assists low-income people with utility payments, so I call for an appointment and am told that the only time they make appointments for utility assistance is on Thursday  at 8:00am, by phone. 

Thursday morning I eagerly begin dialing at 7:52am, and get no answer.  I dial again at 7:55... no answer.  Again at 7:59... nothing but ringing.  At 8:00 I dial the number... and it's busy.  Busy at 8:01,  8:01 and 30 seconds, 8:02, 8:02 and 30 seconds,  8:03, 8:03 and 30 seconds, and so forth until at 8:14, when the lady answers.  "Community Action Program.  What can CAP do for you?

"Thank goodness!" I say into the phone.  "I need to make an appointment for utility assistance."

"The appointments are all full.  You should have called earlier," she says matter-of-factly.  "Call back at 8:00am next Thursday."

"But my utilities are due to be turned off on Monday.  Isn't there some way I could get in?

"Call back on Thursday.  At 8:00.  Call early for an appointment."  I hear a click and the CAP lady is gone.

Thus begins the quest for other places to find aid.  I call a local Catholic community organization.  Their first question is "Have you been to CAP?"

"I can't get in with them.  I can't even make an appointment for seven days, and my utilities are due to be turned off in four."

"Well, we need proof that you've been turned down by CAP before we can help you.  Call us after you go to CAP."

"But my utilities are due to be turned off on..." Click.  Nobody on the other end of the line any more.  I call my case worker at the mental health agency.  She is a great deal of help.  The first thing she suggests is that I go to CAP.  "By the time I can get in at CAP, we will have spent five days sitting in the dark in 110° eating green beans and chili seasoning over raw oatmeal. Could your agency possibly help me with this?"

"Well," says my case worker," we aren't really set up for that kind of thing.  We used to have a fund that we could dip into, but now we can only get money for the most important things.  Need any Prozac?"

She eventually looks in her little information and referral book which suggests that I call an interfaith association that helps with utility payments.  I call, and am told that they  decide who gets money by having a giant BINGO game...  No, really, they do a lottery thing where about 120 people stand around in the heat for several hours until they draw numbers to see what five lucky people will have electricity that month.  Sounds delightful, and I can't wait to go.  "When should I be there?" I ask. 

"Have you been to CAP yet?"  the lady inquires. I tell her my CAP story.  "Well, we really like for people to go to CAP first, but since you’re in such a bind, I guess it's all right.  Come down next Friday at 7:45, and don't be late!"

"But my utilities are due to be shut off on Mon..." Click.  End of conversation.

I call the utility company.  "I need another extension," I say. "I'm really working on getting some assistance to pay this bill."

"Have you been to CAP?" says the man on the other end of the line.

I share the CAP saga for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"Well, I really shouldn't do this, but since you're trying so hard, I'll give you one more extension.  I must warn you, however, that if you don't pay it this time, your electricity is history.  Let's see... the longest I can possibly hold it is until 5pm Wednesday evening...."

"But I can't even call CAP for an appointment until the next morning," I say agitatedly.

"Ma'am, Wednesday is the end of your next billing cycle, and that's as long as I can hold this for you."   I start to explain once again why it won't work, but I realize it's a waste of breath.  So I simply say, "Thank you very much," and he says I'm welcome and tells me to have a nice day.  That makes me feel so much better.  I'm definitely having a nice day.

Next I try a well known Christian organization that helps the needy.  I won't name the organization but I will say they have military leanings and a history of  proselytizing winos.   A pleasant voice answers the phone.  "Hello, and thank you for calling.  We care about your needs and we're always here to serve you.  We're not in right now, but if you'll leave a message after the tone, someone will return your call within 24 hours.  God bless you!”  I assume they're out saving wretched souls like me who don't pay their utility bills.  I leave my name and phone number, but I don't hold my breath.

I call a local church that has a reputation for helping the needy.  "We don't have any funds right now.  Have you been to CAP yet?" 

I am overwhelmed by deja vu as I recount the CAP story once again.

"Well, check back with us a week from Monday and we'll see if any money comes in."

I don't bother to point out that a week from Monday is four days after my utility deadline.  I'm exhausted, a little nauseated, and I just want to have a stiff drink... and then go burn down the CAP office.  As I'm pouring myself a double orange juice (straight up), the phone rings.  It's Lieutenant Mary Louise from the pseudo-military, religious, wino proselytizing organization.  "How can we help you," she says in a very pleasant voice.

"I need assistance with my utility bill and yes, I've already been to CAP and they won't even make an appointment for me until next Friday and my utilities will be turned off if I don't pay the bill by 5:00 pm Wednesday."

"I see," says Mary Louise absently.  "Have you been to CAP yet?"

I've never wanted to abuse a religious person so much. I consider adding the pseudo-military, religious, wino-proselytizing organization to my possible arson agenda.  "I already mentioned that I have called CAP and can't get help from them in time.  That's why I called you."

"We're pretty low on funds right now.  Could you use some day-old bread?  Diapers?  Maybe some nice canned peas?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I really need $185.00 for my past due utilities right now.  Is that a possibility?"  I hear myself starting to whine.

"Let me ask."  I hear muffled voices and then Mary comes back on the line.  "Yes, we can help.  Just be here at noon next Friday and we'll give you what you need.

"Excuse me," I say as clearly as I can through clenched teeth, "but noon next Friday will be too late.  I have to pay my bill by 5pm Wednesday or they are going to turn off my electricity."

"Well, hold on a minute.  Let me have you talk to our social worker."  There's a long pause, and then a man's voice comes on the line.  "This is Captain Daniel Stern.  So it seems you have a utility problem."

"Yes I do," I say a little too loudly.  "My utilities must be paid by 5:00pm this coming Wednesday and if I don't pay, the electric company will shut off my power.  It's 110° outside, I have children and pets at home, and if my power gets disconnected, the company will sympathetically add a huge reconnection deposit to the bill I already can't pay.  Can you please help me?"

"Of course we can, Ma'am.  Just come in next Friday at noon and we'll take care of that for you."  

I take a long slow breath, trying to respond in an at least semi-sane manner.  "I really need the help before my Wednesday night deadline," I say in a steady voice.

"Well," the man says sympathetically, "it sounds like you have a real problem on your hands.  There are some people who specialize in this kind of thing, and I'm sure they'll be able to help you.   I suggest you call them right away.  I have their special inside line... 555-3221.  They're the best people to call for this kind of emergency."

I thank him profusely, hang up, and dial the number.  Finally I am going to get the help I need.  Finally things are going to get better.  The phone rings once, twice... and then a lady answers.  "Community Action Program.  What can CAP do for you?"

DISCLAIMER:  Since 1996, CAP has helped me many times, and I am extremely grateful.  It's a great agency that helps lots of people ... once you learn how it works and play by their rules.  FYI:  flexibility is not a forte of government agencies.  

THE END

A LORI STORY ALLEGORY

I want to write.  I have ideas in my head and a laptop in front of me, and I even have time on my hands… and yet…  I do everything to stop the creative process.  Why do you suppose I would choose to fill my life with noise… with distraction… with things that lead to the destruction of the muse?  She is begging me to set her free – to unlock the chains that bind her – to let her run and dance and fly…  and instead of listening, I continue to turn up Netflix and YouTube and NPR and Pogo and chat and phone calls and anything else that will stop me from hearing her cries.  Why, why, why???

There once was a woman named Lori

Who deep in her heart had a story.

And when she would listen

The words – they would glisten

And make a superb allegory,

Though life gave her many large hurdles

It made her mind strong and quite fertile

But most times instead

Of forging ahead

She’d hide in her shell like a turtle.

Inside this shell she felt protected

Much less chance she might be rejected

She could hide there, unwary,

Feeling not quite so scary

Safe and alone, disconnected

Old habits, so hard to be broken

Left Lori with so much unspoken

And when she did speak it

She still had to tweak it

For fear judgement might be awoken.

One major and true explanation

For holding back and hesitation

Was that in the past

When truth tumbled out fast

It was mostly met with condemnation

Hard facts in her story’s rendition

Should they not give her some small permission

To keep things inside

To tiptoe and hide

And not add to a life of perdition?

The gurus of New Thought would say how

It’s the past and you must move away now

Just let it all go

If you choose not to grow

It’s your fault – and your faith’s not okay now

With winds of uncertainty blowing

She turned to new places for knowing

She was seeking more love

But most times got a shove

Back to where guilt and shame were still flowing

There still is a woman named Lori

Who's still finding her heart’s allegory

She’s trying to listen

For words that might glisten….

But until I love Me – there’s no story

Just For One Day

I stumbled upon the following in my files - written exactly 8 years ago, just after President Obama was inaugurated.  I think it applies as much or even more today than it did then.

JUST FOR ONE DAY

Just for one day, I will close my ears to the grumbling and the pessimism and believe with the hopeful innocence of a child that the world is about to get better, not because some new President will make it so, but because we will.

Just for one day, I'll close my eyes to the troubles that plague us, and think only about the power and the good that I've seen is possible when enough of us believe and put our hearts together and lend our hands to the work.

Just for one day, I will believe that all children can have more than enough food, more than enough health and strength, more than enough education, more than enough warm clothes and soft beds and kind friends - more than enough care and smiles and love.

Just for one day - I will believe this wish that many call naive but that I am yearning for with all my heart… 

Just for one day… and then for another… and for another… until it is the only truth there is.

LAE  1-24-09   

Dedicated, with love, to my precious grandkids!