A Love Story

A funny thing happened to me yesterday. I never thought it would at my age. Took me by surprise it did. What was it? I fell in love. Blindsided, you might say. Don’t tell anyone.

It happened this way.

Each year, the MacArthur Museum of Arkansas Military History sponsors a performance by a wind orchestra on the grounds of MacArthur Park with the historic Arsenal Building (where the General himself was born) as a backdrop. They play Sousa marches and other things. There’s free ice cream and chilled water. The Boy Scout troop from Pulaski Heights Methodist Church makes sure that everyone has plenty of both.

Oh yes, and flags. Everyone gets a flag.

I always try tmo make the affair since it’s right across the street from the condo and I serve on the Museum’s commission. I always enjoy it, especially when they perform the Armed Forces Medley. When your theme song comes up, you stand if you served. (The standers get fewer each year, for less than one percent of Americans now serve).

Anyway. I waited patiently but respectfully until they broke out with “Anchors Aweigh.” They play it last, the Navy being maybe the oldest and certainly the most respected of the forces. We stood, we few, we too-seldom-honored few. It took me back a few years and I teared up, just a bit. I ain’t no crybaby, you understand.

Then it happened.

The orchestra went into “Stars and Stripes Forever.” Now if that doesn’t make you blood stir, nothing will. I’ve heard it even heals bone spurs.

Anyhow. Everyone stood this time, flags just a’waving. To my right were a family with young kids getting excited about the music. To my left was a group of friends, including a couple of vets. In this old park, with the honored and majestic building in the background, I could see not one shred of hate, avarice, anger, or wroth. Just Americans.

At that moment, I realized that I love this country. Oh, it’s made some mistakes, and paid a price for some of them. It has withheld its dream from some and bestowed its blessing unjustly on others. But in the years after I put aside its uniform, it made progress in righting the injustices. There were signs that we might reach a point someday where Stars and Stripes Forever resonated with all Americans.

Then a group challenged that dream, wanting to take us back to the ugliest of times.

I ain’t about to stand by while that happens. My America doesn’t mock the disabled. My America doesn’t denigrate the service of brave people who answered its call and paid dearly for it. My America doesn’t reward people who “make their bones” spreading hatred for groups of other humans. My America doesn’t allow churches to stamp their individual, and sometimes insidious beliefs upon the unwary. My America doesn’t march forward on propaganda-induced and artificial patriotism. My America believes in redemption, not in ruining the lives of people who are now doing good but may have a lingering scab from some decades-ago transgression. My America believes in salvation for all humans, not just for deserving sub-groups.

My America believes in love, not lapel pins. My America believes in respect, not slogans.

So step aside. I can be silent no more. Lead, follow, or get out of the way. I’m standing, with Stars and Stripes still sounding strong in my ears.               

See, I love this country.

The Boy Scouts were concentrating
on doing their job. Photo by the MacArthur
Museum of Arkansas Military History.