From the Heart
“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.”
As a child I was taught not only the words, but what they mean. Most of all I was taught about respect. For the pledge. For the flag. For the people who served my country in the wars that made my freedom possible.
A few weeks ago I sat there in the second row, behind the family, at the celebration of life for the father of my best friend. I had known James Williams since I was 13 years old. That’s when my friend Patrice and I began our best friend journey.
James was a quiet, kind and gentle man. He was a veteran of World War II. He was 94 when his tour of duty on this earth was finished. He was a man who I respected.
As the honor guard marched into the room there was a sacred sound of silence. When the flag was folded and presented to Mrs. Williams, I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place.
It got me thinking.
My generation was raised hearing stories of World War II and the Korean War. Men came back wounded and scarred. Some wounds would never be seen but they changed these men in ways that would not always be understood. We respected them.
Then came the Vietnam War. 17.4 years. From the time I was born until the year I started college. The black and white pictures on the nightly news only gave a glimpse of what they endured in a hot jungle filled with what would later be a part of so many nightmares.
I remember cousins and friends fearing the Draft. When their mail would arrive they prayed “the letter” would not be inside. The Draft ended in 1973. I was a junior in high school. The guys my age did not have to register when they turned 18, yet many volunteered.
I am now friends with many Vietnam Veterans. What they have gone through over the years breaks my heart. It’s not just the physical wounds but the mental and emotional wounds. They fought in an unpopular, misunderstood war. They have felt the pain of not only the war but the disrespect shown to them when they came home.
The definition of respect is admiring someone that is valuable and important. It is not about politics. It is not about being politically correct. It is not about rights. It is not about wealth or position. It is bringing honor to men and women who believe in “one nation, under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for ALL.”
I respect these men and women because they fought for my right of free speech and press.
When I see someone kneeling during the words “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave” I am passionately angry … and sad. They don’t get it, they just do not get it.
These men and women who served our country don’t get it either. Political correctness and “my rights” platforms have broken us. We are as divided as we ever have been. It’s as if we are at war with ourselves.
Social media, newspapers, television, politicians, the entertainment industry, they all fight to tell us how and what to think. Anger erupts when we refuse to agree with them. It was reported this week that fake news travels faster than the facts. How do we even begin to sift through the muck of the news and find the truth.
What are we teaching our children? I wish I had the answers. I wish I could make the world not so angry. I can only hope my grandchildren find the answers. I hope they understand what respect is about.
All I can do is stand and say the words to the Pledge of Allegiance and sing loudly with my hand over my heart when the National Anthem is played.
I pray, someday, we all get it. And then … we will find Respect and Unity.