American Legion

OK. Guess where I was on September 11th this year, (which also happens to be patriot day). No, I wasn't out burning flags---I spent the evening at a Raleigh post of the American Legion. Their strange little shack is about the scariest place you can imagine: the sign is shaped not unlike the blade of a circular saw, the the whole place looks like it was very... hill-billy-home-made, and the sagging roof had a couple of beer cans perched on top. After I drove up the winding gravel drive, I parked and meandered over to the entrance. I was greeted by Ms. Honeycutt, a nice little old lady, who was quite a contrast to the terrifying man standing behind her: he was about 6 feet tall, wearing a leather vest, and he had the most sunken, hollow eyes I've ever had the misfortune to stare into. I said, "Good evening sir", but he just looked at me blankly. He had the aura of a person whose life hasn't gone quite the way they hoped it would. After I darted past them to grab my name-tag, I hurried away to find a friendlier face. Who should I see but Jo! She had brought her sister along and they were both wearing the dreaded Girls' State polos.

I suppose I ought to back up: the entire reason for my presence at this terrifying hide-out was to (a.) tell the Legionnaires how much I loved Girls' State, and (b.) thank them ever s0 much for sending me. A member of the American Legion Auxiliary, or as I like to call it, "The Crazy Conservative Confederation", called me and asked me straight up, "What was you favorite part of Girls' State?" Initially I assumed that it was an idle question so I gave a saccharine statement about how much I loved the program and how wonderful it was to meet new people. Then she informed that I would be talking about it in a speech for the American Legion. Yeah. Ugh. I quickly had an about-face and told her I was fascinated by learning about lobbying.

I know I could have told her that I was going to be out of town, but I didn't, and my reasons were not entirely noble: I had visited the creepy Legion post once before, and I wanted to get a photo of it. Sadly, the photos were accidentally deleted... Also, this place is so far out in the boonies that GoogleMaps hasn't got a street view for it!

Anyway: Point is that I went, and it was unpleasant. They crowded about 25 of us over on the far side for the benefit of perhaps 3 old Legionnaires. Several blowhards stood at the front of the admittedly small room and used a microphone--it was uncalled for. They could have whispered and we would have heard them just fine. After they had rambled on for a bit, we recited some patriotic tripe and prayed several times. Yes--praying once was not enough for God to hear us. Maybe the call was dropped. If so, they should have their prayer-provider looked into. After sitting quietly for what seemed like an eternity, the march of falsely enthusiastic participants began. Each girl walked up the microphone and desperately tried to think of something to say. Some seemed to have genuinely enjoyed it; in fact, one girl went on for about 5 minutes about how much it had increased her patriotism and how much more she loves Murkuh now. Oy.

When I got up to the microphone, I was sorely tempted to use it as an opportunity to give them all a piece of my mind. I wanted to share with them my distaste for extreme patriotism. I wanted to make them see how ridiculous the whole idea is. I didn't. I said something about how I'd enjoyed every aspect of the program and thanked them for giving me the opportunity. They all smiled like self-satisfied toads and leaned back in their chairs basking in the glow of being appreciated by a whole bunch of young people. Perhaps that's a bit harsh... less like toads... more like fat cats. I can't really badmouth them because as I left, they gave me a doughnut.

mmm...tasty...

I thought I didn't care, but--

It's the Fourth of July.
It's raining.
Ambulance sirens are screaming through the deep rumblings of the thunder.

phwoarr---I need a cup of tea.

I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-C-E, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEAN?

The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.

~John Adams

Ah, poor John Adams... so close to prescience... two days, in fact. I suppose that's closer than most of us will ever get.

On the wikipedia page, it says that Independence day in America is celebrated with 'Fireworks, Family Reunions, Concerts, Barbeques, Picnics, Parades, and Baseball Games'. I've done none of these things this year.

This is what our celebrations looked like:

• Sit out on the porch and drink wine [I was sadly excluded from the wine part]
  
• Have some blue cheese with a baguette
• Read magazines like 'The New Republic' and 'The Economist'
• Decide that North Carolina is too hot, and go indoors
• Refill wine glasses
  
• Watch old (1974) Doctor Who episodes as a family
• Go back to work on a new painting.
  

I think my family might fail at Fourth of July. Perhaps we can redeem ourselves with some candles... they're sort of like fireworks.... except that they're stationary. Oh well. At least we're free to celebrate it our own way!

I'm Proud to be an American (MURKUN!!)

**This is an excerpt from a 'letter' home during my week at hyper-patriotic boot camp (Tar Heel Girls' State) taken from the evening of Flag Day**


Flag Day was horrible.

We had to march out in complete silence, and align in reverent rows facing the flag while girls wearing white dresses, who in a militaristic fashion, marched in actually barking "left... left... left, right, left". We stood at attention in the sweltering heat and had to listen to an awful poem dedicated to the flag.

Most patriotic poetry is unpleasant to say the least, but this particular one crossed too many lines for my liking. Perhaps it was too honest about us. Stepping back from that, in the first place, I'm uncomfortable with the idea of pledging my allegiance to a FLAG rather than to a COUNTRY. I'm supposed to be willing to die for a couple scraps of colored cloth? If I'm going to be loyal to anything it would have to be the the people of my country--living, breathing, humans. Why should I pledge myself to an abstract idea that has little to do with me or anything that I care about. It's too easy for a symbol to be co-opted and used to mean something that it shouldn't; it is too divorced from the reality of the United States which is multifaceted and simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

The pledge confuses me on another count: the frequency. Every day? Really? Is that necessary? Are we trying to say that our allegiance has to be renewed daily or it goes sour? Does loyalty have such an early expiration date as that? It isn't a particularly meaningful sort of allegiance/loyalty if it only lasts for a day. Ah well. Anyway, the poem made me feel like we were the evil empire (or the Alliance from Firefly & Serenity). There was one line about the flag feeling proud when mothers clutch it and weep for their lost sons, which made me feel physically sick. We're proud of causing death?! I often find patriotic rhetoric a bit silly, but that really disgusted me. By the end of the ceremony, when they were retiring the flag, I couldn't help but think to myself "Take it down. Get it out of my sight." I don't like feeling that way, but I really, really hated the sight of it.

Here's the horror itself:

I am the Flag
Howard Schnauber

---

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. <-- NOT ANYMORE WE DON'T
I stand watch in America's halls of justice. <-- AND OVERFLOWING PRISONS
I fly majestically over institutions of learning. <-- AND CHURCHES SEEKING TO RETURN TO THE DARK AGES
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up ... and see me.


I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. <-- DO WE? DO WE REALLY? AND HOW EXACTLY HAVE WE SHOWN THAT LATELY?
I stand for freedom. <-- WHEN I THINK OF AMERICA I THINK OF DETAINEE PRISONS AND THE DEFENSE OF MARRIAGE ACT
I am confident.
I am arrogant. <--- OH YEAH.. THAT'S JUST WHAT WE NEED.
I am proud. <-- OF WHAT EXACTLY?

When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher,
my colors a little truer. <-- OH LOVELY... SO WE THINK WE'RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?

I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world. <-- YEAH... THAT'S NOT NECESSARILY GOOD...
I am worshipped -- I am saluted. <-- CREEPY!
I am loved -- I am revered.
I am respected -- and I am feared. <-- THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME FEEL TOO PROUD

I have fought in every battle of every war <--- UM. NO. WHAT?
for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge,
Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appomattox.
I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest,
Anzio, Rome, and the beaches of Normandy.
Guam, Okinawa, Korea and
KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me. <--- NOT IN A POSITIVE WAY THOUGH
I was there.

I led my troops.
I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled
on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible. <-- MWAHAHAHA WE WILL MULTIPLY AND COVER THE EARTH!!!!

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle -- it hurts. <-- I THOUGHT YOU LIKED FREEDOM!? WHAT ABOUT FREEDOM OF SPEECH?
But I shall overcome -- for I am strong. <--- NO YOU WON'T. YOU'RE JUST A SYMBOL!! SHUT UP!

I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness
to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud. <-- AGAIN. SICKENING. I SEE NOTHING IN THIS STANZA TO BE PROUD OF.

My name is 'Old Glory'!
Long may I wave
o'er the land of the free
and the home of the brave.

Another odd thing is that during the sessions in the chapel where we link arms, sway, and sing 'God Bless the USA', devout atheist though I am, I involuntarily look towards the stained glass window at the pinnacle of the chapel and think "Please forgive me". I'm not sure who I'm talking to. Perhaps my parents. Perhaps my new country if I emigrate. Perhaps myself. At any rate, it makes me feel less horrible about participating in the cult-like behavior--It reminds me that I don't actually believe the bullshit that's coming out of my mouth.