esrosedotblog

When I was a kid there was a star of radio who surpassed all the others with her afternoon show.

Kate Smith had an hour in which she basically did everything we recognize as a variety show. Since it was radio we did not notice that she was huge. A big girl with a big voice.

She ended up televising the same show for many years carrying over her audience with her.

At her peak, no patriotic holiday could pass without hearing her rendition of Irving Berlin's famous song, our second national anthem.

The loud boorish campaign of Donald Trump has given permission to a bunch of yahoos to stir themselves from their long sleep.

Is the Trump Campaign Just a Giant Safe Space for the Right?

For every entitled liberal smirker there is a counter weight hater and fist clencher.

It would seem.

It has been a continuing puzzle to me why the fringe of America first-ers and white trash malcontents would follow Trump, the rich boy personified.

This guy suggests that it is the shelter that Trump's rhetoric provides. It allows the people who feel left out, the chronically unhappy, a place to hide out.

God knows there is little other space for them. The right wing press has all but withered and there is no place for even the kind of Birch party shenanigans that used to cover this crowd.

I know. I am probably talking down to this gang. I am the hated elite. Well fuck you.

I grew up amidst low income surroundings. The Appalachian kind. And I know what it means to feel ignored or marginalized.

But my Dad was not a hater. He took his life and made something of it with an 8th grade education. He was/is my role model for "up and out".

He was also a die hard Democrat and ran for office winning the school board and other positions in his church and community. A trusted servant. He participated.

So I was taught not to whine from the beginning. What a wonderful thing. That man saw to it that I worked hard and got out of there. Thank God. He took his situation and worked so that he and his son could get to the next rung. The American dream.

Labels: patriotism

I was touched by this when I read it today.

Of the People

The photos are wonderful and the common threads inspiring.

I hope that I am able to remain "a part of" for all of my life.

I tried separation, special interest. Very cold and lonely.

I like the collective, the group, the fellow feeling.

In my country I can find this right around the corner.

Labels: citizenship, patriotism, United Sates of America

MEMORIAL

When I was a kid, Memorial Day was meant to acknowledge and honor the war dead of our country.

It was not about live veterans. That is another day.

It was the actual dead.

We marched to the graveyards on Memorial Day and usually honored a recently dead soldier or sailor.

As I recall, there was at least one in each of four or five cemeteries in our area. Of course, there were many old dead. The Civil War in many cases being the oldest, through the Spanish American, World War I and, of course, the WWII guys who were getting the honors.

It wasn't about cookouts or auto races or any of that. It was a time of quiet and remembrance.

And it wasn't about peace either. Or politics. Or even about the right and wrong of it.

These were people, mostly men, who died in the virtually perpetual state of war that we have had here since the beginning. Loss. Suffering. Sacrifice.

At every ceremony, each year, a kid would recite Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. One year, my sixth grade year, I think, I was that kid.

I can still remember most of it. Don't test me though.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

When thinking about what they died for, I also like to think of the MLKing line about the arc of history pointing toward justice.

War is a squalid, mean exercise but if it means anything at all, we hope for justice. I am less interested in "freedom" now because that word has been co-opted for the cause de jour.

Justice and more of it.

Memorial Day was also a day to go and clean up and decorate the family graves.

We would go and get rid of the dead flowers, mow or sickle the grass, sit and think about who is in the soil and so on.

The local VFW or American Legion would have put a little flag on the grave of each veteran. Nothing wrong with that.

I remember that you had to go and get buckets of water and carry the dead grasses and plants to the junk pile.

It was a serious deal.

I am proud to say that my kids still go and visit the family graves. A few of the go together. Make it a trip. An occasion.

This is more than I ever did in my adult years. They have taken a beloved tradition and made it real again. They have to travel to do this. Cross three states to do so.

By now they have a lot of visiting to do. Some of the graves go back beyond grand and great grand parents. Or great great, if you can find them still.

Memorial Day.

Labels: nostalgia, patriotism, war and peace

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE!

Independence Day. A big deal. Although I have to admit we aren't doing a whole lot about it.

When I was a kid there were picnics. We couldn't buy fireworks so we bought caps--gun powder in paper strips--and hit the large rolls with a hammer. It was a pretty big bang.

Then off to Skytop Lodge where the rich had a private resort and golf club. We could park along the road next to the links and see the show that they put on every year. Small by today's standards but big for us. We had nothing to compare it to.

No picnics this year. No caps. No fireworks.

We managed to move very close to ground zero for Palm Springs fireworks show and last year, without thinking, nearly drove Booker nuts with the "show" that went on. He and I spent the time in the inner bathroom, door closed, in and out of the bathtub.

This year we will bundle ourselves into the Volvo about 845, crank up the classical music and drive away from the fireworks into the desert mountains so we miss the whole thing. Hopefully.

I am sure there will be some stray bangs. He is OK with those if he doesn't have to be outside. Maybe we will be up some in the night to pet and comfort.

It is a small price to pay. He is a great guy.

And we have seen a lot of fireworks.

But how about the day?

It is a time to reflect. I have been all over the world and there is no place like this country. At its best, there is no comparison that is apt. It is America.

At its worst, it is a reflection of our plurality and the struggle to maintain the balances necessary to keep the Republic vibrant and alive.

I am a flag waver. Unashamed.

Labels: America, Booker, holidays, patriotism

MEMORIAL DAY SPEAKERS

When I was a kid there was a Memorial Day parade that began at the high school and ended at one of the local cemeteries to pay tribute to one of the town's guys who have been killed in action.

Each year, one kid, a sixth grader, would be assigned to recite the Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.

One year that was me.

I remember the whole thing. My Dad was in the American Legion color guard and was standing nearby. In his Navy uniform, I think.

WWII had only been over three years. He was in the North Atlantic on a tin can destroyer escort and then in the Pacific at the end of things but still in time to have a kamikaze hit his ship and to see a couple of friends killed, reduced to pulp.

He never got over it.

So at this juncture, the time was ripe. I got to say something about war. And peace.

I couldn't really recite this today but I could do a good job of faking it. My Dad would be watching. What else could I do?

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Labels: family, holidays, patriotism

THE SPEECH

I couldn't stay up for Obama's speech in Tucson the other night.

But when I got to the gym in the morning, a friend, for Obama but not an especially ardent fan, raved about it.

I came home and watched it immediately. I had not other commitments, a Thursday morning.

I was in tears. I felt a part of. I didn't know that I needed catharsis.

The reviews were tremendous. Even the usual critics praised his work.

This is what I would expect. I am a deep, deep admirer and partisan for Obama, as you know, but I do not often get this moved by his communications. I expect high quality. This surpasses almost all the speeches that I have heard. Certainly since he became our President.

Have you listened to the whole thing? Do not miss the experience if you have not yet seen this.

Full screen, please.

Labels: Barack Obama, patriotism

PATRIOTS

When Shameless Hucksters Lose What's Left of Their Decency

"If there's a contradiction or some sort of irony in cashing in over 9-11, that seems to have eluded the hosts. Palin wrote this week on her Facebook page: 'We can count on Glenn to make the night interesting and inspiring, and I can think of no better way to commemorate 9/11 than to gather with patriots who will 'never forget.' Visa and MasterCard accepted."

....Glenn Beck made $32 million last year and Sarah Palin made $12 million in a matter of months. The only difference is that this time it's 9/11."

Others on the far-right also hope to profit from the anniversary of 9/11. Disgraced lobbyist Ralph Reed will wrap up his "Faith and Freedom Conference and Strategy Briefing" on Saturday, and Newt Gingrich will unveil some new movie he put together on the same day.

Actually, Sinclair Lewis wrote this in 1935 not 1835. It is from his work It Can't Happen Here.

Well, it could.

Labels: criminal morons, patriotism, tea party

Guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism.

-- George Washington

Labels: America, patriotism, politics

PLEASED TO PAY UP

I am down with this:

Suck it, Tea Party: I love Tax Day

It is particularly galling to me that people in my own age group are acting like little children about their taxes.

We already pay an astoundingly low rate compared to other countries.

And yet many of the oldsters, all of whom are happy to be on, and even milk, Medicare, to say nothing of Social Security, are out their whining.

I said the other day that I was happy to pay up. Even when "they" were in there.

I sent my tax return in early this year. I paid some to the State.

I just sent my first quarterly prepayment for 2010.

Just in the way I was proud to serve in the military and proud to vote in every election I have had in my lifetime, I am proud to pay taxes in the best, not perfect, country in the world.

Roll out the bandwagon. Lift up the flag.

I am even happy to say that I pay these taxes to protect the rights of others to bitch and complain.

Labels: patriotism

VETERANS

I am not a veteran. I was in the US Army Reserve, ROTC. But I didn't serve two years of active duty.

I was a 6 month wonder and then spent 6 years in the active reserve. But I didn't even do that. I have written here about my sparse service to my country. I am not proud of it but there it is. I did correspondence courses and meaningless summer camps to fulfill my obligation. Not much experience. And no vet benefits. Good. I don't deserve anything.

My Dad is the veteran of the family.

He was "too old" to be drafted at 39 so he volunteered for the last half of WWII.

He enlisted in the Navy and was put through all the same training as the young guys. He passed with flying colors.

Then he went to radar school. Radar was new then.

He took his learning to the little radar shack at the top of the bridge on a destroyer escort.

The USS Ebert.

Can you imagine? They have the ship in Wikipedia. Some old grizzled vet has gone through all the ships and made an entry for them. Good for him.

There were "countless" North Atlantic crossings. Rocking and rolling. A number of sub attacks. Depth charges.

Then to the Pacific for the finish of the war where they were hit by a kamikaze with a few deaths and no damage to the ship.

My dad had a piece of shrapnel in his neck when he came home and a lot of bad dream material which he worked on for many years.

He never told much about the War until the end and then not much.

It was hard at home being without him. I can still remember seeing his bus off in the early morning dark. Leaves stirring in the wake of the bus.

But that was nothing compared to his own experience.

He may have, like most men who enlist, a limited view of the reality of war. It was a lot tougher than anyone I know, who went, could have imagined. He never looked back. Never complained. He did his duty.

After the war he joined the American Legion and had a good time with it. He wore his hat, marched in the parades, served as a Commander of the local post and followed the news about other men in other wars.

He was not a right winger. He was a liberal, loving man with a lot of strong resolve to do the right thing. And, in that war, going off to fight was the right thing for him.

I may have resented his being away, particularly the volunteering part. But I saw a lot of other guys, draft dodgers, who sneaked through and they never got over that either. For whatever personal reasons they skipped out and paid a different price.

My dad never spoke against any of these people. He knew in his heart that he did the right thing and that was enough.

For me, I had the reward of pride in my Dad. He was a great guy. He had a great life.

In a way, I also know that he didn't want to miss out on the chance to get "into something" that was way bigger than he was. This is a different kind of thing than patriotism but it is admirable nonetheless. Adventurism. Courage.

My Dad had that in spades too.

My hero.

Labels: family, fathers, nostalgia, patriotism

FRED MEET MARVIN

Labels: America, holidays, patriotism

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY

The fireworks are from 2008 New York City.

This also features, anachronistically, Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians on the sound track.

I grew up close to Fred Waring's Tamiment in the Poconos. For years, his organization was on television at all the holidays and they toured the group almost every year.

When I moved here, I discovered that I live only a few miles from where Fred Waring ended up. He retired here and was quite a presence until his death. He has a Drive named after him.

Listen for the soprano shot just at the end. It will kick your ass.

Labels: America, holidays, patriotism

COUNTRY LOVE

There's parent love and lover love and brotherly love but nothing is as contentious as "country love".

I remember when we lived on South Street in Plymouth, MA, one of the neighbors, a guy who beat his kids and didn't work and was on the dole and was working his way to being the town drunk, had an "America, love it or leave it" sticker on his battered up car.

Proud to be an American but an utter failure as a human being. There is too much of that.

Then you have the professional country lovers. The full time paid flag wavers. The type who fit the aphorism about the "last refuge of the scoundrel".

Joel Stein, who is marvelously funny, captures all this posturing in his column today in the LA Times.

Republicans Are Blinded by Love

What I like about Stein is that he goes to the source. Here, an interview with the crazy CNN soon to be Fox guy Glenn Beck.

I saw him once when I was on vacation and searching for a weather report on the teevee. A foamer.

Stein also talks about that other super patriot Sean Hannity who can raise the hackles on my neck just by his smug demeanor.

These flag wavers need to be brought down a peg but we won't do it. They will sink in their own craziness or run headlong into a scandal or something equally self destructive.

They have always been with us, these people.

When I was a student in Boston, we would go of a Saturday or Sunday to the Commons where guys like this were on a soapbox. We would heckle them.

I learned right then that they were un-hecklable. Immune from criticism in their bubble of country love. The heckler became an instant appeaser, traitor, communist sympathizer. Whatever.

This was before we had teevee. The good old days.

Stein asserts that the universal solvent of humor may take these guys and disappear them. I doubt it. But, in the meantime, we can at least have a good laugh at their posturing phoniness.

Labels: patriotism

LAND OF THE FREE

Labels: patriotism

STAR SPANGLED

Thanks to Andrew Sullivan

Labels: patriotism