LJ Idol Week 12, Prompt:America
Jul. 9th, 2022 01:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mollywheezyI pledge allegiance to the flag . . .
I was in first grade when I learned The Pledge of Allegiance. My teacher, Miss Alice, taught it to our class. She explained what all of the big words meant, and we practiced writing it out so we could memorize it. I don’t remember how much time elapsed before the class achieved the goal of memorization, but I do remember wondering why we were talking to a flag in the corner of the room. I didn’t ask, though, because I loved Miss Alice and if she thought talking to a flag was important, I would do it without question.
. . .of the United States of America . . .
In my sophomore year of college, I took a class in American Sign Language. It was taught by one of my friends who was working on a degree in education, and she was required to teach a class as a project for one of her classes. The summer after my sophomore year, the last time I returned to my parents’ home for more than just a visit, their choir director asked me to sign for a sung version of The Pledge of Allegiance with the choir. A choir member who was a special education teacher was signing, but she needed a partner so there would be a signer on each side of the sanctuary. I am certain my dad told the choir director I could sign. He and my mom sang in the choir and my dad always announced whatever I was doing to the world. I still remember most of the signs and still hear The Pledge of Allegiance in my head in the sung version, even though the choir director told me vehemently not to sing and to only mouth the words. (I did not inherit my parents’ vocal talents.) The signs for “United States of America” are three circles with fingers interlaced in a different position for each word. Circles have no beginning or ending, no rough edges, and are eternally unbroken. Sign language is very fluid and signs often change. I have not kept current with signing, but I wonder if “United States of America” is still represented by circles?
. . . and to the republic for which it stands . . .
Merriam-Webster defines “Republic” as “a government in which supreme power resides in a body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by elected officers and representatives responsible to them and governing according to law.” Elected officers who are responsible to the voting citizens . . . except I don’t feel like my representatives are responsible to me, unfortunately. I am a lone blue island in a sea of red. I remember a primary where I went to vote after work. When I asked for a democratic ballot the polling volunteer said, “Really?! They’ll be so happy!” And she pointed me to a table on the left side of the room and began waving her arms to alert the other polling volunteers I was coming. I saw one woman elbow her friend as she said, “Look lively! We have a customer!” They both greeted me warmly and we chatted for a few minutes before they gave me my ballot. I signed for the ballot and was the 112th person who had voted Democrat that day. I thought that seemed low, but I was shocked when I put my ballot into the automated counting box and over 12,000 people had voted. Since that day, I have realized the chance of a Democrat winning anything significant in my state is almost nil and as a result have begun crossing party lines. In the primary for Trump, I waited in line for over an hour to vote against him. There was no line at the Democratic table. My efforts were not successful, but I did what I could.
. . . one nation . . .
Circa 1990, my high school hosted a visiting professor from Cuba, who spoke to all of the Spanish classes and gave us opportunities to ask questions. I asked him what surprised him most about America. He said, “You’re all hyphenated.” I asked him to explain what he meant. He said, “You’re European-American, African-American, Asian-American . . . In Cuba, we too come from different backgrounds and have different colors of skin, but we are all Cuban. No hyphens needed.” In 2018, I was blessed to be able to visit Cuba, remembered what the visiting professor had said, and saw he was right.
. . . under God . . .
The words “under God” did not appear in the original version of The Pledge of Allegiance, but were added through Eisenhower’s encouragement in 1954 as a stance against communism and a reminder of our country’s foundation in religious freedom. Religious freedom means everyone is free to worship (or not) as they choose. Imposing a certain view of God on others is religious oppression, not religious freedom. Our country which was founded by people fleeing religious persecution is now persecuting others.
. . . indivisible . . .
This is a hope more than a fact. We have been divided before. Our country fought a civil war which killed more Americans than any other war in our history. We are divided now, rival camps on opposite sides of polarizing issues. I attended a luncheon recently, a gathering of local clergy for discussion of community issues and mutual support, and my friend David said, “If we had been as divided as we are now during the Second World War, we would have lost.” I was shocked by his statement, but when I reflected upon it, I realized he was right. Miss Wilhemina, one of my hospice patients, passed away in May 2020 at the age of 104. When I visited her, she told me she was thankful she was dying because the pandemic was worse than World War II. I asked her what she meant, and she said, “Of course, it was hard during the war because I couldn’t see my husband and feared for his safety. We only had letters to communicate, and I still have all of them! Not like today when I can see my children through the computer. My companion has to help me, but at least we can talk every day. I’m horrified at people hoarding things! My son bought me a toilet paper cube from Sam’s. I won’t use that much toilet paper in my life, so I had my aide go to all of my neighbors and make sure they had toilet paper. During the war, we shared everything with our neighbors. Everyone in the neighborhood had a garden and we all grew what we were the best at and shared with everyone else. We cooked together in large pots because we could make our ration coupons stretch farther if we pooled our resources, and we had canning parties. We had fun working together and cooking together and our children all played together while we did it. We also prayed together for the safety of our military, especially our husbands. And when one of our neighbor’s husbands was killed in battle, we were there to hold her and her children and cry together. We were all in the mess together trying to help each other however we could. Much better than the every man for himself attitude of today. The selfish attitudes of today make me sad.” I told her it made me sad, too.
. . . with liberty and justice for all . . .
In 2000, I participated in a prison ministry called Kairos, and was in a small group of nine women: six prisoners, a table leader, an assistant table leader, and I was the “table clergy.” Going into a prison was as far out of my comfort zone as it was possible to be. I did not want to participate, and actually said no the first time the overall leader of the event called me, but with several attempts she talked me into it. Being with these women shattered any us/them mentality I had. We bonded, and really were not that different. They were in prison for making one bad decision. I certainly have made bad decisions, but I have been privileged to have a good education, support from family and friends, and the comfort of always knowing where I would get my next meal. One of my new Sisters in White, Debra, told me her boyfriend beat her so badly she thought he was going to kill her. In a frantic attempt to protect herself, she grabbed the nearest thing she could, a “For Sale” sign that had a metal spike to stick it into the ground. She hit her boyfriend with it once, and he died from the head injury. Debra was a person of color, her grandmother was a naturalized citizen originally from Mexico. Her grandfather was a pastor. Debra’s parents were killed in a car accident so her grandparents raised her. She said they were not well off, but she and her siblings always had food, clothes, and a roof over their heads. They could not afford a lawyer, and Debra’s public defender did not listen to her to plead self-defense. She was charged with Second Degree Murder and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. I heard many stories like Debra’s. Apparently, liberty and justice for all only applies if one is white, male, and wealthy.
A/N: For the first time, I have not used pseudonyms.
I was in first grade when I learned The Pledge of Allegiance. My teacher, Miss Alice, taught it to our class. She explained what all of the big words meant, and we practiced writing it out so we could memorize it. I don’t remember how much time elapsed before the class achieved the goal of memorization, but I do remember wondering why we were talking to a flag in the corner of the room. I didn’t ask, though, because I loved Miss Alice and if she thought talking to a flag was important, I would do it without question.
. . .of the United States of America . . .
In my sophomore year of college, I took a class in American Sign Language. It was taught by one of my friends who was working on a degree in education, and she was required to teach a class as a project for one of her classes. The summer after my sophomore year, the last time I returned to my parents’ home for more than just a visit, their choir director asked me to sign for a sung version of The Pledge of Allegiance with the choir. A choir member who was a special education teacher was signing, but she needed a partner so there would be a signer on each side of the sanctuary. I am certain my dad told the choir director I could sign. He and my mom sang in the choir and my dad always announced whatever I was doing to the world. I still remember most of the signs and still hear The Pledge of Allegiance in my head in the sung version, even though the choir director told me vehemently not to sing and to only mouth the words. (I did not inherit my parents’ vocal talents.) The signs for “United States of America” are three circles with fingers interlaced in a different position for each word. Circles have no beginning or ending, no rough edges, and are eternally unbroken. Sign language is very fluid and signs often change. I have not kept current with signing, but I wonder if “United States of America” is still represented by circles?
. . . and to the republic for which it stands . . .
Merriam-Webster defines “Republic” as “a government in which supreme power resides in a body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by elected officers and representatives responsible to them and governing according to law.” Elected officers who are responsible to the voting citizens . . . except I don’t feel like my representatives are responsible to me, unfortunately. I am a lone blue island in a sea of red. I remember a primary where I went to vote after work. When I asked for a democratic ballot the polling volunteer said, “Really?! They’ll be so happy!” And she pointed me to a table on the left side of the room and began waving her arms to alert the other polling volunteers I was coming. I saw one woman elbow her friend as she said, “Look lively! We have a customer!” They both greeted me warmly and we chatted for a few minutes before they gave me my ballot. I signed for the ballot and was the 112th person who had voted Democrat that day. I thought that seemed low, but I was shocked when I put my ballot into the automated counting box and over 12,000 people had voted. Since that day, I have realized the chance of a Democrat winning anything significant in my state is almost nil and as a result have begun crossing party lines. In the primary for Trump, I waited in line for over an hour to vote against him. There was no line at the Democratic table. My efforts were not successful, but I did what I could.
. . . one nation . . .
Circa 1990, my high school hosted a visiting professor from Cuba, who spoke to all of the Spanish classes and gave us opportunities to ask questions. I asked him what surprised him most about America. He said, “You’re all hyphenated.” I asked him to explain what he meant. He said, “You’re European-American, African-American, Asian-American . . . In Cuba, we too come from different backgrounds and have different colors of skin, but we are all Cuban. No hyphens needed.” In 2018, I was blessed to be able to visit Cuba, remembered what the visiting professor had said, and saw he was right.
. . . under God . . .
The words “under God” did not appear in the original version of The Pledge of Allegiance, but were added through Eisenhower’s encouragement in 1954 as a stance against communism and a reminder of our country’s foundation in religious freedom. Religious freedom means everyone is free to worship (or not) as they choose. Imposing a certain view of God on others is religious oppression, not religious freedom. Our country which was founded by people fleeing religious persecution is now persecuting others.
. . . indivisible . . .
This is a hope more than a fact. We have been divided before. Our country fought a civil war which killed more Americans than any other war in our history. We are divided now, rival camps on opposite sides of polarizing issues. I attended a luncheon recently, a gathering of local clergy for discussion of community issues and mutual support, and my friend David said, “If we had been as divided as we are now during the Second World War, we would have lost.” I was shocked by his statement, but when I reflected upon it, I realized he was right. Miss Wilhemina, one of my hospice patients, passed away in May 2020 at the age of 104. When I visited her, she told me she was thankful she was dying because the pandemic was worse than World War II. I asked her what she meant, and she said, “Of course, it was hard during the war because I couldn’t see my husband and feared for his safety. We only had letters to communicate, and I still have all of them! Not like today when I can see my children through the computer. My companion has to help me, but at least we can talk every day. I’m horrified at people hoarding things! My son bought me a toilet paper cube from Sam’s. I won’t use that much toilet paper in my life, so I had my aide go to all of my neighbors and make sure they had toilet paper. During the war, we shared everything with our neighbors. Everyone in the neighborhood had a garden and we all grew what we were the best at and shared with everyone else. We cooked together in large pots because we could make our ration coupons stretch farther if we pooled our resources, and we had canning parties. We had fun working together and cooking together and our children all played together while we did it. We also prayed together for the safety of our military, especially our husbands. And when one of our neighbor’s husbands was killed in battle, we were there to hold her and her children and cry together. We were all in the mess together trying to help each other however we could. Much better than the every man for himself attitude of today. The selfish attitudes of today make me sad.” I told her it made me sad, too.
. . . with liberty and justice for all . . .
In 2000, I participated in a prison ministry called Kairos, and was in a small group of nine women: six prisoners, a table leader, an assistant table leader, and I was the “table clergy.” Going into a prison was as far out of my comfort zone as it was possible to be. I did not want to participate, and actually said no the first time the overall leader of the event called me, but with several attempts she talked me into it. Being with these women shattered any us/them mentality I had. We bonded, and really were not that different. They were in prison for making one bad decision. I certainly have made bad decisions, but I have been privileged to have a good education, support from family and friends, and the comfort of always knowing where I would get my next meal. One of my new Sisters in White, Debra, told me her boyfriend beat her so badly she thought he was going to kill her. In a frantic attempt to protect herself, she grabbed the nearest thing she could, a “For Sale” sign that had a metal spike to stick it into the ground. She hit her boyfriend with it once, and he died from the head injury. Debra was a person of color, her grandmother was a naturalized citizen originally from Mexico. Her grandfather was a pastor. Debra’s parents were killed in a car accident so her grandparents raised her. She said they were not well off, but she and her siblings always had food, clothes, and a roof over their heads. They could not afford a lawyer, and Debra’s public defender did not listen to her to plead self-defense. She was charged with Second Degree Murder and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. I heard many stories like Debra’s. Apparently, liberty and justice for all only applies if one is white, male, and wealthy.
A/N: For the first time, I have not used pseudonyms.
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no subject
Date: 2022-07-09 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-09 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-09 07:31 pm (UTC)Thank you.
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Date: 2022-07-09 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-09 09:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-09 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-09 09:43 pm (UTC)it makes me sad, too.
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Date: 2022-07-09 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-10 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-14 03:21 pm (UTC)And I love your Groot icon! :)
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Date: 2022-07-10 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2022-07-10 03:07 pm (UTC)I love that you know sign language. It's beautiful to watch. I always wanted to learn it, but I fear that will be one of many things I will wish for that won't happen in my life. Still, there are skills and talents out there for all of us.
- Erulisse (one L)
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Date: 2022-07-14 03:14 pm (UTC)My sign language class was almost 30 years ago, so I am extremely rusty.
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Date: 2022-07-11 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2022-07-14 08:59 am (UTC)Nicely done.
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