It’s a long-lost memory, now, here in the Deep South, where we greet Autumn with the height of Hurricane Season, rather than hot cocoa and plaid.

It used to disintegrate slowly after the last kiss with that person we met at the beach during the rose’s full bloom, insulated from God Knows What by our innocence. That, of course, was lost then, too.

The last rose wouldn’t have passed on so soon, but it’s now much more convenient to place it between the bookends of 20th-Century Commemorations of Military Valor and Hard Work. Its annual birth and death are offset from their “true” astronomical dates, between Solstice and Equinox. Time itself doesn’t mind; we place it as we need it.

We change out of the swim suits and sandals, and lay the last rose to rest in its sunscreen-scented casket. I know I shall mourn it, albeit briefly. There is much to be done between Equinox and Solstice, as the Longest Nights march toward us. We’ll also mourn as the light dies in the sky, but our joy is ensconced in frost, snow, and swaddling cloths.

Alas, poor Rose; I knew you well. If only we could subdue the hustle, bustle, and hassle, and forever chase the infernal bug truck on our Stingray bikes. Would we could inhale your sugary fragrance and the New Jersey air freshener of our youth (DDT) ad infinitum.

Or was that ad nauseum?

Vegetarians and vegans, sit down, please, we aren’t attacking you. You are free to leave all the meat for the rest of us, the omnivores.

I’m just thinking that probably 79% of Americans are on some form of diet or other at any given time during the year, with the exceptions of the sundry Winter Holidays and Independence Day.  (As a matter of fact, yes, I am, too… more on that subject later.)

You can’t give up the meat that easily. How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat? Go meat!

In other words, it’s business as usual.
Peace, JG.

Fatherhood… many have done it throughout history, to state the obvious, because without fathers, lawns would be 9 feet tall, cars would go unwaxed, and the huge industries of team sports would likely founder. Yes, ladies, before you get the flamethrower out, think about it: lawn care and furniture moving are best left to the men while the intelligent household management is done by you, right?

OK guys, I think we’re safe for a few minutes.

I have to say I myself was blessed to have a great father. My Dad was all about model airplanes and baseball and hockey games and heading to the beach as often as the schedule would allow. Of course, as most of us Dads know, there were times he had to be the bearer of discipline. My sister was smarter; she knew when to knock it off and toe the mark. I, being the family empiricist and self-appointed black sheep, had to test & find the limits of shout, spank, and belt. I didn’t have to test this often, but of course I did.

My Dad usually approached life, especially with we little heathens, with a smile and a laugh. No mean feat, even in the “fabulous” 1960s. He’s also one of the most patient and strong people I’ve ever known. The only time I’ve ever heard him cry was the night my Mom passed away.

After that, my Dad was suddenly a single Dad with 2 kids in the house. He still carried all of this stuff gladly, with a joke and a laugh. We all learned to pitch in, and he taught us all sorts of things, but I think his biggest lesson (which, Dad, I know you’re still trying to teach) is

“Be positive. Figure out how to achieve your dreams: don’t start by saying ‘it can’t be done,’ start by saying ‘how can it be done.’”

There are more, of course, but that is the big theme. How much more successful would we all be if we took that to heart?

It’s been a long time for it to sink into my head.

I, too, am a Dad. I am one of the many of us who unfortunately do not have the blessing of the kids living in my home. They live with their mother, and I only get to see them a few, fleeting moments a year. For all you guys in this situation, you’re not alone.. but I know you feel that way today. It may have gone that way and for the best. It is unfortunate, and I can say I am sad that the kids always bear the brunt of the hurt. No, kids, it wasn’t your fault! I hope you can hear that one day.

If you were a Dad who turned your back on your kids, turn back, seek those kids out: they want to know where you are. Whether you can work with the ex or not, at least check the kids out. While some support orders seem Machiavellian, don’t be a deadbeat: you’re punishing the kids, not the ex.

I drive my new wife crazy with the constant hunt for ways to see the kids… but she knew I would want to see them any waking moment I could going in! So you guys with your kids right there… enjoy it and know there’s more than a few of us who envy that.

Oh, and to all the guys who stepped up the plate as step-dads… the Dads who didn’t have to be… here’s a glass raised to you guys, too. Just remember, when you’re in that slot, you’re there for the Dad that couldn’t be. But as long as you treat those kids right, that’s an honorable position.

So, guys, wax that car and grab the remote, or get out to the game or a movie, and enjoy your day. The dishes will still be there tomorrow.

Eddie joined the Guard when he got out of school
He worked at True Value, he’s nobody’s fool
Now it’s three hitches later, and it doesn’t seem cool
And Eddie is learning he’s just a tool

There’s peace on Earth tonight
And joy to the world
All around the world tonight
With the flag unfurled

Kitty Mae was going to be a doctor or a nurse
A few gall bladders and a white picket fence
But this bomb squad medic, for better or worse,
Gave her hands for the cause, does it really make sense?

There’s peace on Earth tonight
And joy to the world
All around the world tonight
With the flag unfurled

bridge

Yeah, they’re standing guard Somewhere tonight.
Because even if the job isn’t right,
Someone’s got to do it.
Yeah, keep the money flowing to the privileged few…
They’ll tell ya freedom isn’t free
And they want to go through it.

There’s peace on Earth tonight
And joy to the world
All around the world tonight
With the flag unfurled

There’s peace on Earth tonight
And joy to the world
All around the world tonight
With the flag unfurled

JG

2007-06-15

An original song from the upcoming surplus population holiday music CD, tinsel. It’s pro-troops, anti-war. Make up your own mind! It’s the best Christmas present you can give yourself.

A former boss of mine had made Flag Day his personal best holiday. I expect that even now, he’s taken Thursday and Friday off, and is planning a huge summer BBQ bash for this weekend. Since his hobby was driving in Demolition Derby races, if he can still drive (or walk) after years of sudden concussions and so forth, that should again be part of his annual Flag Day celebration. I’d imagine the brew will flow after a few good crashes, and then flags will be waved around the barbecue.

What of Flag Day? Why bother? Isn’t it just a piece of cloth on a stick? One of the galvanizing sets of symbols that humanity has adopted has been to create banners and flags to rally around. A colorful, waving herald of A Place You Fit In… an awning over our sense of belonging. Let’s get out the metaphor blender and whip up another. How does “an umbrella against the rain of alienation” strike you?

It should strike you soundly over the head.

At any rate, our nation has once again polarized, driven apart on party lines as the next attempts at sea change are gearing up. If we hearken back to this time in 2002, patriotica was in full swing. You couldn’t turn around without seeing an American flag. From Memorial Day through Independence Day, flags were unfurled proudly from homes, businesses, and vehicles. US flag-based patterns became an integral part of many citizens’ personal wardrobes. Flag sales peaked.

Many huge flags waved from the beds of pickup trucks, tattering in the breeze of our shock and dismay at being attacked in our own backyard. The United States became united, just for a short time. Then, our patriotic fervor turned in on itself in 2003, when we agreed to go the whole hog and expand the War On Terror to The War on Terra… and Mother Earth hasn’t yet complained. But the globe is warming.

Let’s look at uniting this country again. Let’s have a serious discussion about how to bring more of our citizens home, and not in pine boxes. We again must stand up in intelligent dissent; we need to be the change we want to see. And nothing is more patriotic than that.

I hope that those reading this post appreciate what Old Glory stands for. My favorite homage to the Red, White, And Blue has always been from the Man In Black, Johnny Cash. Of course, it’s Ragged Old Flag. I saw Johnny perform this in my callow, punked-out youth. His stark voice, hoarse from years of performances, boomed out over a small theater with one lone spotlight on a flag that had been quietly sitting on the stage for the whole show… and the entire audience was on its feet, of one accord. Maybe that’s when I got my mind around real grassroots patriotism—patriotism from the heart.

Enjoy the day.

Ragged Old Flag
By John R. “Johnny” Cash, © 1974 House of Cash, Inc.

spoken:
I walked through a county courthouse square,
On a park bench an old man was sitting there.
I said, “Your old courthouse is kinda run down.”
He said, “Naw, it’ll do for our little town.”
I said, “Your old flagpole has leaned a little bit,
And that’s a Ragged Old Flag you got hanging on it.”

He said, “Have a seat,” and I sat down.
“Is this the first time you’ve been to our little town?”
I said, “I think it is.” He said, “I don’t like to brag,
But we’re kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag.

“You see, we got a little hole in that flag there when
Washington took it across the Delaware.
And it got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it writing Say Can You See.
And it got a bad rip in New Orleans
With Packingham and Jackson tuggin’ at its seams.

“And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on, though.
She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag.

“On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a big hole from a Bertha gun.
She turned blood red in World War II.
She hung limp and low by the time it was through.
She was in Korea and Vietnam.
She was sent where she was by her Uncle Sam.

“She waved from our ships upon the briny foam,
And now they’ve about quit waving her back here at home.
In her own good land here she’s been abused –
She’s been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused.

“And the government for which she stands
Is scandalized throughout the land.
And she’s getting threadbare and wearing thin,
But she’s in good shape for the shape she’s in.
‘Cause she’s been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more.

“And one September morning she was hit again,
By some mad dogs with some hijacked planes.
Miss Liberty couldn’t believe her eyes
and black smoke billowed throughout the skies.
But we said “Let’s Roll!” and we saw her again,
Raised to the sky by the firemen.
(this verse: John Gifford, 2003)

“So we raise her up every morning, take her
down every night.
We don’t let her touch the ground and we fold
her up right.
On second thought, I do like to brag,
‘Cause I’m mighty proud of the Ragged Old Flag.”