Letter: No heart for unity, pride this year
To the editor,
Normally this time of year is my favorite. We always watch "The Patriot" and I proudly tell everyone about Francis Marion, the "Swamp Fox." We picnic in Larimore and watch the fireworks show. I secretly get a little verklempt thinking about dead or injured soldiers and founding fathers and how grateful I am for the freedoms we often take for granted.
But not this year; there's no heart for it. There's no proud feelings behind it.
Everyone is used and divided and losing hope, or clinging to false hope. There's no unity to these states. There's no security behind our inalienable rights. There's only the birth pangs of dictatorship.
Too many others are apathetic. "It is what it is," or "It doesn't affect me;" those who believe "we the people" will last through anything because it's all they've ever known. Yet, there are people still living who will tell you it can all go awry with one signed order, in the smoke from one spent artillery shell.
This week, here we all are, being twisted in the mechanism of autocracy. Whether we believe it or not, we have swiftly become the characters of an Orwellian tale. To this end, I will offer one small cynical cheer, with all dramatic employ, like Mel Gibson rallying his men: That flag is still ours; the working class, the overtaxed and underpaid, the folks who bear the burden of keeping this whole place moving. We can't keep living in this nonsensical calamity. We can't keep allowing one very individual group of people to degrade all the hard work and lessons learned since before 1776.
This, my friends, is why I sat this one out. I can't pretend to feel OK when the flag and the anthem and the icons of America are being used to molest us in the worst way. I can't praise my fellow American when he advocates hate and cruelty, and shreds the rights of others.
Let's see how November goes. Maybe next year. Maybe. But if not, I will still be here in the muck, ranting and fuming and praying. And if worse comes to worse, I'll be fighting in one way, shape or form, like the Swamp Fox, except probably with a pen rather than a hatchet.
God bless America.