Patriot
The word means so much, to so many of us Americans. I know you’ve heard, time and time again, the examples of common Americans performing acts that are seen as patriotic. Lately, I have noticed that something is missing from the society at large (with the obvious exception of the military). Most notably, I have listened to many government functionaries, elected officials and aspiring political candidates, and pretty much they all posses a general lack of true conviction in their voice, conviction that has to be earned not learned. This type of conviction comes from the heart of one person and touches the soul of another.
Many people in the past few years have made plenty of good, well structured speeches. Their enunciation and diction was very good, to superb. They’ve had plenty of emphasis in their delivery that was aimed at convincingly driving the delivery home. However, they lack the personal conviction that sets their and the listeners soul on fire.
Some of the most notable to me, throughout my life, who gave to me this true patriotic feeling were perhaps some of the most unlikely to the “mainstream” experts:
- My 90+ year old neighbor who lived next door to me when I was a child many years past. His experience as a child during and after the Civil War and his adult life as a small-time dairy farmer through the many years from 1880s till his end of days in the early 1960s, was spoken with such emotion and respect for America that I will never forget.
- My elderly neighbor, who every child in the farming community around called Grandma, was a field nurse during the great Influenza Epidemic, where she watched many of her friends and family die, but never gave up tending to the sick and dying, at great risk to herself, because she knew it had to be done. When she spoke of those times, there was no blame or bitterness, and animosity towards others never crossed her lips.
- The janitor at my High School, who was fat, blind in one eye, and walked with a severe limp, earning him the nickname of “Wimpy”. But as I got to know him, I learned first from others then from him directly, of his service in WWII as a B24 Bomber Pilot, where he received these injuries. His experiences, which were talked about with such emotion for the dangers he faced, the friends he lost, and the injuries he suffered, and the convictions he came away with, that I feel it today. He was proud of his service and never blamed anyone for his life or the fact that he was only the janitor.
- My Bagpipe Teacher, who taught me how to play highland bagpipes. He was an immigrant to the US from Scotland and had by the time I knew him a retired engineer at one of the local steel mills. He never talked about it, but his wife proudly told me and showed me the Victoria Cross Medal that he earned during WWI. As a British solder and regiment piper, after an injury that resulted in his being left behind the regiment, he captured 12 German solders, when moving alone to catch up with his unit, and marching them 14 miles to his regiments lines, single-handedly armed with nothing but his bagpipes. He loved his homeland, I’m sure, but he was overtly proud of America, The American flag flew over his front door for all to see every day.
- The local trash collector, and a friend of the family, named Red, who was handicapped with a partially paralyzed face that seemed to be scarred as well. It wasn’t till after his death when I was helping his wife clean out his house that I found out that he was a highly decorated Army Sergeant who was part of the first unit of assault troops to land at Normandy and was injured later on while fighting across France. His faith in country never seemed to waiver as long as he lived.
- Or the little quiet neighbor, the father of one of my brothers first flames. He had only one arm and was quiet as a mouse, generally. He worked as an accountant in a local steel mill. All of us neighborhood kids pretty much thought him a wimp. But as I got to know him, I later learned that he had lost his arm while serving as a driver and aid to General Patton in North Africa. One day I finally got him talking about the experience and out came the American Spirit, and WOW!
- My high school Civics teacher who had such conviction, and who would seemingly go off the deep end when we discussed oppressive forms of governments, particularly Communism. His energy at these times used to freak out some of the other students, but I know he left a definite positive impression on every student he touched. It wasn’t till after my graduation that I learned that he was a Korean Prisoner of war for 3 years.
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