Relish opportunity to celebrate Fourth
There's a poem circulating on the Internet that has some e-mailers a-twitter, both pro and con. Detractors say it's pro-military, and/or lacks the perspective that all of us who champion freedom, in our own ways, have blazed trails, held the faith and otherwise acted to preserve our freedom. Another critic says that rights are inherent, and no one "gives" them to us.
Ohhhh-kaaaay. Tell that to the people of Darfur.
The poem's detractors are correct in that it takes all of us doing our respective jobs to remain a free people, to protect our Constitution. I'm just sorry more of us don't defend it more fiercely, especially screaming like wounded crows, to our elected representatives.
The poem printed above is by the late Father Denis Edward O'Brien, who was a chaplain in the U.S. Marine Corps.
I included the poem in the recent funeral of my brother, George Keeslar. He was a veteran of the Korean War, a radio operator on the battlefield who came back home to take up a "trade," as he called it, and never received any accolades for his service that I knew of. He didn't dwell on the two years devoted to what our leaders determined was in the best interests of our country; he just went and did his job as a soldier.
Other people his age, who didn't go into the armed forces, had a two-year head start on beginning their careers, making money, starting families and whatever else they chose to do. He came back with a "suck it up, it was my duty" attitude and a duffel bag, and began to plan from there.
I wanted the veterans' tribute read at my brother's funeral, first, in recognition of what he did, but second, with the hope this message would come through as well: "It is the soldier, not the reporter ... It is the soldier, not the campus organizer ... It is the soldier, not the poet ... ."
The words also resonate for all the things I didn't have to do when we were my brother's age, nor did most of my contemporaries, even through we were in the middle of the Vietnam War. I got to start college right on time and didn't have to give a moment of any kind of civilian service to my country, to have any function that spilled over to the soldiers fighting, or to anything but pursue my own self-interests.
I'm not sure it was a good thing. I was a war protester then, so sure of myself and the rightness of my ideas at age 18 and 19, the same age my brother was when he was fighting in Korea. Ideologies aside, I had to give nothing, and I believe it colored my view of the world: that it was a safe cocoon where there would be setbacks, but all I had to do was to weather them. Certainly not to sacrifice a couple of years of my life to go in a totally different direction than I was intent on going.
So, on this, another July 4, a day I look forward to as a chance to celebrate what we have achieved in this imperfect yet glorious country, I relish the opportunity to celebrate and honor our veterans as well as our founding fathers, who were one smart bunch of cookies.
If it were not for our soldiers, I would not have the right to write whatever profound, zany or off-the-wall poem I want. Those who choose can even write any obscene poem they want. If not for our soldiers, my freedom of speech might be limited to writing on a piece of napkin in a German work camp (although I have a feeling surviving Americans would have tapped out messages to each other and hatched a plan to take ourselves back).
Yes, it does take all of us to make this giant, only 231-year-old experiment work.
It's just that I realize I've always had someone watching my back, making sure I have the safety and freedom to do what the First Amendment grants me the right to do.
There's a poem circulating on the Internet that has some e-mailers a-twitter, both pro and con. Detractors say it's pro-military, and/or lacks the perspective that all of us who champion freedom, in our own ways, have blazed trails, held the faith and otherwise acted to preserve our freedom. Another critic says that rights are inherent, and no one "gives" them to us.
Ohhhh-kaaaay. Tell that to the people of Darfur.
The poem's detractors are correct in that it takes all of us doing our respective jobs to remain a free people, to protect our Constitution. I'm just sorry more of us don't defend it more fiercely, especially screaming like wounded crows, to our elected representatives.
The poem printed above is by the late Father Denis Edward O'Brien, who was a chaplain in the U.S. Marine Corps.
I included the poem in the recent funeral of my brother, George Keeslar. He was a veteran of the Korean War, a radio operator on the battlefield who came back home to take up a "trade," as he called it, and never received any accolades for his service that I knew of. He didn't dwell on the two years devoted to what our leaders determined was in the best interests of our country; he just went and did his job as a soldier.
Other people his age, who didn't go into the armed forces, had a two-year head start on beginning their careers, making money, starting families and whatever else they chose to do. He came back with a "suck it up, it was my duty" attitude and a duffel bag, and began to plan from there.
I wanted the veterans' tribute read at my brother's funeral, first, in recognition of what he did, but second, with the hope this message would come through as well: "It is the soldier, not the reporter ... It is the soldier, not the campus organizer ... It is the soldier, not the poet ... ."
The words also resonate for all the things I didn't have to do when we were my brother's age, nor did most of my contemporaries, even through we were in the middle of the Vietnam War. I got to start college right on time and didn't have to give a moment of any kind of civilian service to my country, to have any function that spilled over to the soldiers fighting, or to anything but pursue my own self-interests.
I'm not sure it was a good thing. I was a war protester then, so sure of myself and the rightness of my ideas at age 18 and 19, the same age my brother was when he was fighting in Korea. Ideologies aside, I had to give nothing, and I believe it colored my view of the world: that it was a safe cocoon where there would be setbacks, but all I had to do was to weather them. Certainly not to sacrifice a couple of years of my life to go in a totally different direction than I was intent on going.
So, on this, another July 4, a day I look forward to as a chance to celebrate what we have achieved in this imperfect yet glorious country, I relish the opportunity to celebrate and honor our veterans as well as our founding fathers, who were one smart bunch of cookies.
If it were not for our soldiers, I would not have the right to write whatever profound, zany or off-the-wall poem I want. Those who choose can even write any obscene poem they want. If not for our soldiers, my freedom of speech might be limited to writing on a piece of napkin in a German work camp (although I have a feeling surviving Americans would have tapped out messages to each other and hatched a plan to take ourselves back).
Yes, it does take all of us to make this giant, only 231-year-old experiment work.
It's just that I realize I've always had someone watching my back, making sure I have the safety and freedom to do what the First Amendment grants me the right to do.
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