This is an honest question, based in ignorance.
Is the national anthem of any other country a story of suspense? of danger leading to hope?
People call for an easier song to sing.
"America the Beautiful", for instance. Bucolic, satisfying, happy and tuneful. It is all of that.
Or, maybe, even write another song. Phhhyyt;
My older son commented earlier that the fireworks of the Fourth of July commemorate the celebration of the battles our country fought to become this country.
So does the Star-Spangled Banner.
A lot of emotion went into that tune. It was about a suspenseful time in history, when after all we had struggled to achieve might go to ruin.
"Does the flag still fly?"
"Can we prevail?"
"Do we have the grit, the determination, the unsurmountable intent to build the country we lived in and make it all ours, warts and all?"
Can we survive?
And every time we sing that anthem, we affirm "through the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, our flag was still there."
Still is.
So set off the fireworks, a happy facsimile of that night.
The flag is still there.
And for about 200 years now, so has the "Star Spangled Banner."
May it always stand as a vital part of the history of our country and who we are.
Showing posts with label American history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American history. Show all posts
Friday, July 4, 2014
Thursday, January 28, 2010
History Sometimes Rings True
One of my joys currently is spending time with the kids in my church. More specifically, I sometimes teach Bible stories to the kids aged 3-8. A lot of the 7 and 8 year olds are in second grade, as is one of my granddaughters.
Recently, they had a holiday for Martin Luther King Day. Now, this is a small community, primarily Anglo, and I had no idea what the schools taught about this holiday. The kids are all in different classes, so it is not as if they all heard the same teacher. But over the last couple of weeks, they have all talked to me about something they thought was important.
"There used to be a time," they have told me with eyes wide, "when people with brown skins and white skins didn't even go to school together." Another chimed in. "They didn't even drink at the same water fountains." Another said, "If a white person wanted their seat, they had to get up and give it to them and go sit somewhere else."
"But," one said, "Martin Luther King changed that. He brought us together. And it isn't like that anymore."
They were telling me something they learned that was very important to them. They actually valued the man for their holiday from school.
And I smiled and told them, "this was a good thing, wasn't it?" And they nodded, agreeing it was. One of them is very black, from another country. The history was as strange to her as to them.
They are in second grade. And they have learned, through public school, something I think is really important in American history. I never attended a segregated school, nor saw separate water fountains until I was 16. In this part of the country, there were segregated schools and separate water fountains. That I didn't know about it doesn't excuse it. And they will learn some of the deeper lessons of surface prejudice as they grow older.
I was in college in 1963 when King gave his "I have a dream" speech. It moved me then as it moves me still.
To these children, it was ages ago. Probably before my lifetime in their minds, which is why they told me. But it wasn't. No, King didn't end it. But he started a good thing, and I am glad school children today are being taught about why we honor him. We are not finished yet, but he started something good that continues.
Sometimes, it is very good to remember.
Recently, they had a holiday for Martin Luther King Day. Now, this is a small community, primarily Anglo, and I had no idea what the schools taught about this holiday. The kids are all in different classes, so it is not as if they all heard the same teacher. But over the last couple of weeks, they have all talked to me about something they thought was important.
"There used to be a time," they have told me with eyes wide, "when people with brown skins and white skins didn't even go to school together." Another chimed in. "They didn't even drink at the same water fountains." Another said, "If a white person wanted their seat, they had to get up and give it to them and go sit somewhere else."
"But," one said, "Martin Luther King changed that. He brought us together. And it isn't like that anymore."
They were telling me something they learned that was very important to them. They actually valued the man for their holiday from school.
And I smiled and told them, "this was a good thing, wasn't it?" And they nodded, agreeing it was. One of them is very black, from another country. The history was as strange to her as to them.
They are in second grade. And they have learned, through public school, something I think is really important in American history. I never attended a segregated school, nor saw separate water fountains until I was 16. In this part of the country, there were segregated schools and separate water fountains. That I didn't know about it doesn't excuse it. And they will learn some of the deeper lessons of surface prejudice as they grow older.
I was in college in 1963 when King gave his "I have a dream" speech. It moved me then as it moves me still.
To these children, it was ages ago. Probably before my lifetime in their minds, which is why they told me. But it wasn't. No, King didn't end it. But he started a good thing, and I am glad school children today are being taught about why we honor him. We are not finished yet, but he started something good that continues.
Sometimes, it is very good to remember.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Today we are all part of history
Today is an historic day. And we are all a part of it.
As always on the day for national elections, I woke with that sort of Christmas morning feeling. What will the day bring? How many of us will vote? Today is We, the People. One nation. Indivisible. Speaking our voices freely. It is no little thing.
I was 21 the first time I voted in Dallas, Texas. I was able to vote there because Texas passed a law the spring before that college students from out of state could vote in Texas if they had residence of more than six months. This is my 11th time to vote in a presidential election, always somewhere in Texas. The first time, I was in line and talked with a white-haired woman in her 80s who was as excited as I was. I don't remember how many times she told me she had voted but I was impressed--and it didn't even occur to me at the time that she was of an age to remember when women could not vote. Her vote was precious to her. As mine is to me.
She personally remembered the struggles, and yes, the violence involved in the fight for women's right to vote. I do not. But in my lifetime I have witnessed the violence, and even the deaths in the fight to give black Americans the reality of the freedom to vote, not just the written law.
I am not convinced that the nation will change direction so much, no matter who is elected. I do believe that no matter who we elect, for President, senators, representatives, state officials, county officials et al, that we will survive as a nation. Last week an old man told me if Obama is elected, "this country is going right down the drain." A young man of 23 told me yesterday that he believed "this is the most important election in 100 years."
My own feelings are not so passionate except--today my voice is heard. It counts. and that is intensely satisfying.
As always on the day for national elections, I woke with that sort of Christmas morning feeling. What will the day bring? How many of us will vote? Today is We, the People. One nation. Indivisible. Speaking our voices freely. It is no little thing.
I was 21 the first time I voted in Dallas, Texas. I was able to vote there because Texas passed a law the spring before that college students from out of state could vote in Texas if they had residence of more than six months. This is my 11th time to vote in a presidential election, always somewhere in Texas. The first time, I was in line and talked with a white-haired woman in her 80s who was as excited as I was. I don't remember how many times she told me she had voted but I was impressed--and it didn't even occur to me at the time that she was of an age to remember when women could not vote. Her vote was precious to her. As mine is to me.
She personally remembered the struggles, and yes, the violence involved in the fight for women's right to vote. I do not. But in my lifetime I have witnessed the violence, and even the deaths in the fight to give black Americans the reality of the freedom to vote, not just the written law.
I am not convinced that the nation will change direction so much, no matter who is elected. I do believe that no matter who we elect, for President, senators, representatives, state officials, county officials et al, that we will survive as a nation. Last week an old man told me if Obama is elected, "this country is going right down the drain." A young man of 23 told me yesterday that he believed "this is the most important election in 100 years."
My own feelings are not so passionate except--today my voice is heard. It counts. and that is intensely satisfying.
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