One Wing Bird

Sometimes you need to stop and think about what “Do No Harm” means. This article is very much a reminder of what many of us witness as it happens to people whom we love very much. People who have been so much a part of our lives and given so much of themselves to everyone over the years of their lives. We all need to honestly examine where and how we want to be in our final hours and what should be done to allow us to legally make these individual choices.

Max Ferber - - Reader’s Digest - April 1976 - Condensed from the LA Times

It was six months ago that Irma and I first drove to the hospital. The internist had been concerned about my wife’s occasional spotting.  The gynecologist, apprehensive about what his examination indicated, had suggested a hysterectomy.

Following the operation, the surgeon came up to me in the waiting room.  After some preliminary words he said: “it’s terminal cancer.”

It’s terminal cancer.

In something of a whisper, I asked, “How long does she have?”

“It’s difficult to say. I could be six months to five years.”

Now Irma is dead, after six months, at 75.

It was not over her sure death that I cried. It was for the ignominious way of her going: the degradation of the spirit that was once her, the flagellation of her body, the torture inflicted by medical ethics and by a society that values the flesh over the spirit.

Irma recovered from the operation. She came home after three weeks in the hospital.  During her convalexcence she was up and about. She was at the table for meals. We visited friends, attended the theater, dined out. The pills were effective; there was no pain.

Had there been a remission? Were the doctors only mortals who had guessed wrong? Were we witnessing a miracle?

Two months of hope, then began the journey to the other shore. Irma was tired. Tempting her to eat was futile.  Sedation was needed on a regular schedule. In vigils through the night, we reacted to a gesture, kept adjusting her pillow. Terminal cancer: Please let her not have pain.

In time, the burden of caring became too great, even with family members sharing the shifts. Exhaustion set in - physical, mental, emotional. The only alternative was the hospital. “There are to be no heroic measures,” I said. “I just don’t want her to have any pain.”

They said that they understood, but it was not to be.

The first ten days in the hospital were a time for gratitude. The nurses were kind and compassionate.  Medication was given as needed. Irma’s position in bed was changed on schedule to prevent bed sores and to provide comfort. A tube hung from a bedside stand for intravenous feeding.

Irma was not aware of the world - but she was comfortable. There was no pain.

Each day, I watched, wondered - dulled to what was taking place but grateful to the nurses for their concern.

One morning of the third week, I entered the room and was startled. The intravenous tube had been removed from Irma’s arm. Instead, she was being fed through a tube inserted in her nose.

She lay on her back in the bed, her hands tied to the rails. I asked why this had to be. “Because,” the nurse said, “she was pulling out the tube.”

Everyone was considerate.  The nurses changed her position every two hours, retying her hands to the rails.  They provided pillows to support her changed position.  I saw her that evening on her side, tied down for immobility. Only her fingers twitched.

That night, at home in bed, I tried the various positions I had observed Irma take. I could hold each position for only 15 minutes, having to shift to relieve the tension, to release the straining of my muscles. But it was all right. Irma’s position was being changed every two hours.  She had no pain.

In the fifth week, a catheter was introduced to catch her urine.  Now the chemicals that dripped through the tube inserted in her nose passed through her body and emptied efficiently into a pouch at the foot of her bed. In this way Irma was being kept alive. I paled at the sight.

The sixth week showed a change.  Irma looked better: there was a flush in her cheeks. I wondered what this could mean.

“We pulled her through pneumonia by suctioning the mucus from her lungs,” they said.  “she is resting more easily now.”

How thoughtful.  The idea came to me: Irma will make a good looking corpse, thanks to medical science.

Through it all I was led to believe - by comments, by shrugging shoulders - that it would be a matter of only two weeks. Always two weeks, by increments. At the end of three months, I was told Irma could no longer be kept in the hospital: she would have to be moved to a sanitarium.

That night I went to look over the sanitarium they had chosen.  I was disheartened. The place was dim; it seemed gloomy and desolate.

The next morning, as usual, I stopped at the hospital. Irma’s room was empty.  She had been moved to the sanitarium earlier than I had expected.  I hurried there. In daylight it looked better than it had by night.

I found the room where Irma was imprisoned.  Yes, that word was inescapable. She was receiving the same care and attention as in the hospital. Again the tube was inserted in her nose, again the catheter pouch hung at the foot of her bed, again her hand were tied to the bed rails.

Irma’s squirming had caused her sheet to slip off, and she was lying nude. I covered her and kissed her forehead.

The nurses, again, were kind and compassionate. Sedation came on schedule. Irma was suffering no pain.

Another six weeks passed.

Then, at last, I was privileged to watch Irma being ferried across the River Styx. It had been a long journey, not because the river was wide - from where I stood, I had long since seen the opposite shrouded shore - but because the man-made current was almost irresistible. The force of public opinion, of medical and legal ethics, had run furiously, almost vengefully, resisting Irma’s passage.

As I sat, patiently watching, I saw her finally reach the other shore and disappear into the mist of infinity.  Her trials were over. It was Saturday, exactly 11:17 a.m. Society had claimed its last ounce of flesh, and after a while I could stop crying.

I left the sanitarium. As I drove away, a seething anger swept over me.  It was a fetish, nothing less, for society to worship the flesh while it destroyed the spirit.

At any hospital, the dedication is heedlessly to prolong life.  No, not just to prolong life but to do so by using ingenious devices that not only measure the semblance of life but also confirm that the machinery itself is functioning.

Why had Irma been subjected to degradation that made a mockery of living? What does society want, and in heaven’s name, why?

The anger has not left me. It will consume me as long as I live. Why are those who value living so insensitive to dying? In memory of Irma - for all the Irmas of this world - I make a simple but heartfelt plea: let us rise, all of us, to defend the defenseless body against the machine.

We often hear the complaint that the United States has to regain respect that this administration has eroded? Hmmm - makes me stop to realize that the people saying these things must have had blinders on over the last decades. Other countries have often held negative feelings toward the United States. This post from 1961 and the following article from October 1976 demonstrate just that.

Condensed from Toronto Star - Robert Nielsen - A Canadian journalist asks: How did America ever get cast in the role of a villain?

The most successful Big Lie since Adolph Hitler and Joseph Goebbels were in the mendacity business is that the United States of America is the prime villain in world affairs. How did this whopper come to be widely believed about the nation which 30 years ago, was almost universally regarded as a benefactor to humanity?

Part of the answer is easy. As the powerhouse of capitalism and democracy, the United States had to be discredited if possible by the Soviet Union and its satellites. For decades these communist countries have fed their peoples a diet of lies and distortions picturing the United States as a ruthless imperialist abroad and cruel oppressor at home.

Anti-Americanism in the so-called Third World nations, neither communist nor aligned with the West, is more complex. Here the United States has certainly earned, though not always for dishonorable reasons, some, animosity:

• Its position as the lone ally of Israel could only arouse suspicion and enmity among the Arabs.
• Its diplomatic leaning toward Pakistan in the Indo-Pakistan war has not been forgiven by India; the affront easily overcame any Indian gratitude for billions of dollars’ worth of U.S. economic aid.
• Its covert actions toward the overthrow of the Allende government in Chile betrayed democratic principles.
• And, of course, Vietnam - although it is worth noting that several Asian countries were glad to have the Americans holding the line against communist expansion in Southeast Asia.

But the United States has not, by its own actions, come close to earning the amount of abuse heaped on it by the Third World. It has done many things that should have earned goodwill there - such as being nearly always first with the most emergency relief in time of famine, flood or earthquake.

Another part of the explanation is simply envy and resentment of the poor and weak toward the rich and powerful. The trend toward authoritarian rule in the new nations has also produced a lot of mangy dictatorships and one-party regimes that would be undetermined if their people could make true comparisons with the biggest democracy; so it profits their rulers to slander the United States.

Now we come to the strangest and saddest part of the story, which is how free and democratic peoples have supported the Big Lie and thereby helped discredit the main champion of freedom. With few exceptions, the Western news media have done this quite innocently, by covering the news as it happens and where it’s available. And about 99 percent of it is available only in open societies like the United States. Totalitarian states simply deny access to everything they don’t want reported. By the time a Solzhenitsyn tells us of the oceans of blood and tears shed in the Gulag Archipelago, the story is “old,” and its continuation hard to report, so the Western media give it only passing attention.

When this unbalanced access is combined with the critical, negative tradition of Western journalism - things that are going well usually aren’t news - the result is a continuous distortion of the world picture. Russia’s strangling of a whole country, Czechoslovakia, was a nine-day wonder in the media; America’s maladroit and callously executed attempt to keep half of Vietnam from falling to communists was so vividly and copiously reported that it provoked ten years of global outrage, as well as a political convulsion within the United States.

We owe most of our knowledge of the sins and errors of the United States, from My Lai to Watergate, to American reporters. The point here is not that the United States or any other democratic state should be spared close scrutiny and criticism; that’s how we stay free. But we could do more by way of commentary to redress the unavoidable lack of balance in reporting on the free and unfree countries.

In this sorry business of free people tarring Uncle Sam, I’ve given first place to the media only because we deserve it. But the contributions of academics and teachers shouldn’t be overlooked, either. Academics generally don’t admire the Soviet Union anymore, as many tended to do in the 1930s and 1940s. A popular cop-out for liberal-leftists is to find the United States and the Soviets equally reprehensible. They equate a Chile on the American side with ten countries permanently subjugated by the Soviet Union. This relieves them of the responsibility of choosing sides, even where the differences in terms of human decency and liberty are immense.

The United States, notwithstanding grievous errors, mistakes and occasional villainies, is committed by its whole history to fundamental human rights. The Soviet Union, on its record, is inexorably bent on the destruction of those rights. They are the present protagonists in the endless struggle between liberty and tyranny. After a long stalemate, tyranny is clearly gaining ground as the West loses unity and the will to resist. The United States is now retreating toward a new isolationism. One reason is the thanklessness of its task as leader of the democracies.

For democrats of every persuasion - liberal, socialist or conservative - anti-Americanism has become a costly indulgence.

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1. A man who wants time to read and write must let the grass grow long.
2. The hardest part of raising children is teaching them to ride bicycles. A father can either run beside the bicycle or stand yelling directions while the child falls. A shakey child on a bicycle for the first time needs both support and freedom. The realization that this is what the child will always need can hit hard.
3. It’s impossible to treat a child too well. Children are spoiled by being ignored too much or by harshness, not by kindness. Rich kids are often spoiled not by their toys and automobiles, but by parents who are too busy to pay much attention to them.
4. It is impossible to treat a woman too well.
5. The definition of a beautiful woman is one who loves me.
6. Children go away and live their own lives, starting when they are about 18. Parents who accept this as a natural part of the order of things will see their grown children surprisingly often.
7. Success in almost any field depends more on energy and drive than it does on intelligence. This explains why we have so many stupid leaders.
8. When things break around the house, call a handyman. No intelligent man is capable of fixing anything, unless he has made home repair his business.
9. Either afloat or ashore, it is normal for everything to go wrong. No one should ever be surprised or unduly upset by foul-ups. They are a basic part of the human condition.
10. When I was young I was briefly interested in politics, but politics soon bored me. I was interested in business for a long while, but business eventually bored me. Religion I never understood at all. Although it may sound sentimental, the only real meaning I have found in life has been in my wife and children. Without them, I would be in more despair than a bankrupt millionaire.

Condensed from “What Shall We Wear to This Party?” by Sloan Wilson. Printed in the Reader’s Digest - October, 1976

Santa Belugas : White Belugas, wearing Santa hats pose with a trainer during a new Christmas show at the Hakkeijima Sea Paradise aquarium in Yokohama, in Kanagawa prefecture.
(AFP/Yoshikazu Tsuno)

I believe the following arrived in my e-mail last year.CHRISTMAS BLESSINGS Download and/or play

SANTA IN IRAQ A good video.

From a familiar site - Click “Rabbit Go Away” and watch the card come to life. Ad or no ad - it’s a peaceful reminder.

If “Simple Secular” is more entertaining for you Click here

The “Marine” Poem as sent in e-mail along with it’s “Snopes”

A Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan wrote this poem. The following is his request. I think it is reasonable . . . PLEASE. Would you do me a thoughtful favor of sending this poem to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities.
________________________________________

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and dreary,
I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

I heard stories about them, I had to see more
So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping silent alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.

His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night
Owed their lives to these men who were willing to fight.

Soon ‘round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of soldiers like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent and still,
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
And I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.
And I put on his T-shirt of gray and black,
With an eagle and an Army patch embroidered on back.

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
And for a shining moment, I was United States Army deep inside.
I didn’t want to leave him on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure,
“Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all is secure.”
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night!

Origins: This piece, which sees wide circulation every Christmastime, is generally credited to “a Marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan” (or, since 11 September 2001, “a Marine stationed in Afghanistan”). More specifically, the poem is often attributed to an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel named Bruce Lovely, who purportedly penned it on Christmas Eve 1993 while stationed in Korea (and saw it printed under his name in the Ft. Leavenworth Lamp a few years later):

I arrived in Korea in Jul 93 and was extremely impressed with the commitment of the soldiers I worked with and those that were prepared to give their lives to maintain the freedom of South Korea. To honor them, I wrote the poem and went around on Christmas Eve and put it under the doors of US soldiers assigned to Yongsan.

This attribution does a great disservice to the poem’s true author, James M. Schmidt, who was a Lance Corporal stationed in Washington, D.C., when he wrote the poem back in 1986.

As Corporal Schmidt told us in December 2002:

The true story is that while a Lance Corporal serving as Battalion Counter Sniper at the Marine Barracks 8th & I, Washington, DC, under Commandant P.X. Kelly and Battalion Commander D.J. Myers [in 1986], I wrote this poem to hang on the door of the Gym in the BEQ. When Colonel Myers came upon it, he read it and immediately had copies sent to each department at the Barracks and promptly dismissed the entire Battalion early for Christmas leave. The poem was placed that day in the Marine Corps Gazette, distributed worldwide and later submitted to Leatherneck Magazine.

Schmidt’s original version, entitled “Merry Christmas, My Friend,” was published in Leatherneck (Magazine of the Marines) in December 1991, a full two years before it was supposedly “written” by someone else on Christmas Eve 1993 (and had appeared in the Barracks publication Pass in Review four years before it was printed in Leatherneck).

As Leatherneck wrote of the poem’s author in 2003:
“Merry Christmas, My Friend” has been a holiday favorite among “leatherneckphiles” for nearly the time it takes to complete a Marine Corps career. Few, however, know who wrote it and when. Former Corporal James M. Schmidt, stationed at Marine Barracks, Washington, D.C., pounded it out 17 years ago on a typewriter while awaiting the commanding officer’s Christmas holiday decorations inspection . . . while other leathernecks strung lights for the Barracks’ annual Christmas decoration contest, Schmidt contributed his poem to his section.

Over the years the text of “Merry Christmas, My Friend” has been altered to change Marine-specific wording into Army references (including the title: U.S. Marines do not refer to themselves as “soldiers”) and to incorporate line-ending rhyme changes necessitated by those alterations.

We reproduce below Corporal Schmidt’s version as printed in Leatherneck back in 1991:Merry Christmas, My Friend

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.
After leaving the Corps, Corporal Schmidt earned a law degree and now serves as an entertainment attorney in Los Angeles and is director of operations for a security consulting firm.

TO READ THE SAILOR’S VERSION

Found this writing from GEORGE Romney - Mitt’s Dad. Condensed from an address to the Commonwealth Club of California.

George Romney - President of American Motors Corp. - Reader’s Digest, May 1960

Some years ago, Justice Louis Brandeis declared, “It is not good for us that we should ever lose the fighting quality, the stamina and the courage to battle for what we want when we are entitled to it.”

Today, I think we have lost a great deal of that “fighting quality.” The majority of our people have few flaming interests that they are willing to struggle for. In larger and larger numbers, the individual is being engulfed in vast power groups. In politics, he is renouncing direct, active participation and transferring his rights of citizenship to the corporation or the union, which concerns itself with his economic interest. This substitution of economic for political citizenship could be the doom of our way of life.

The rights of citizenship must be exercised by individuals - not by big labor, big business or big government.

In the American Revolution, we fought against the power concentration that made our liberty and independence impossible. The weak state of the original Confederation reflected the people’s fear of concentrated authority. The Constitution itself, while providing for a strong central government, bristles with safeguards against excessive power held in the hands of a few. Jefferson’s theory of democracy defeated Hamilton and his ideas of a dominant federal government; Jackson defeated the Bank of the United States; Franklin Roosevelt divided the power of the big finance and big business - in part curbing the power of the business barons, but also helping create barons of unionism. This whole problem of concentrated power we are ignoring today.

Any time we permit a few men in labor or a few men in industry to reach the point where they can shut down a basic industry, cripple the economy and adversely affect the public interest - as in last year’s steel strike - we have a condition completely contrary to the spirit of America. I think that is an excessive concentration of private economic power. I am not seeking increased government regulation. Quite the contrary. But we do need to modernize our vague, outmoded inconsistent labor laws and anti-trust laws, which at present permit or foster labor monopolies and massive coalitions of industrial power. For it is the collision between these two excessive forces that is confronting us with the necessity for government intervention to protect the people - and the end result of that will be some form of totalitarianism.

Concentration of power ought to be fought wherever it exists, or the individual will be smashed. And that includes concentration in the form of a highly centralized government. Certainly big societies, especially those in competition with other big societies, need strong (even big) unions and corporations. But their power can and must be dispersed, with the ultimate control in the hands of the people. This will be impossible unless we recognize that it is morally wrong for either unions or corporations to get into politics.

There is little difference in principle between the present excessive political influence of unions and the earlier excessive political influence of business. One is as wrong as the other. Both are obstacles to political freedom, economic justice and individual rights. I believe we must prohibit business organizations and unions from political activity and expenditures, direct or indirect. What right have they to use the funds of stockholders or members to support specific candidates or issues? What right has either to create an atmosphere wherein a member’s or employee’s economic status can possibly be thought to depend on his political views and convictions?

I believe that corporate officials and union officials should participate in political affairs - but personally, as individuals. They should take every possible step to assure members and employees that this is a personal right not to be abridged in any manner. Each individual must speak for himself, directed by what he believes in. Of course, to be effective he must combine his energies with the energies of others, but through the instrument of a political party, not through his corporation or his union.

Unfortunately, our political parties have allowed themselves, to a large extent, to become the captives of dominant economic groups. In Michigan, for example, one party is largely under the control of big labor, while the other is largely in the hands of big business.

To combat this, we are developing a nonpartisan citizens’ program identified as Citizens for Michigan, made up of individuals acting for themselves. We hope to create an influence greater than that of these minority economic groups. The success of our program can provide the basis for releasing the political parties from their captivity and restoring to the people these necessary instruments for self-government.

There are three important things we must do to stop the drift toward increasingly massive centralized government.

One, make certain, but modernized law, that power outside government is dispersed and dept dispersed, so that big government is not needed to hold it in check.

Two, improve the character of state governments and modernize the smaller governmental units, such as the parish or the county.

There, revive the feeling that people can participate effectively in control of the government. For greater exercise of citizenship is an essential factor in America’s future.

The most effective means of doing this would be for the political parties to reject economic power-group participation and reach out for the citizens. The give-a-dollar-to-the-party-of-your-choice campaigns would be more effective with a give-an-hour campaign. Widely publicized upon forum meetings would put excitement and opportunity back into the political arena at the local level; people are not going to participate if they have no opportunity to choose anything but the word that is passed from the smoke-filled room. We need to bring our political parties and the people together, if our democratic system is to continue to be truly representative.

Today, the individual citizen must fight for his citizenship, or he will find himself, enslaved by the power groups - or by an all-powerful stat that is exercising his inalienable rights on the premise that it must protect him from the excesses of the power groups. This is the age-old struggle to keep power in any form from becoming excessive. The American Revolution was not a distant explosion, from which the dust has long since settled. It is a continuing process, and we should never forget it.

An E-Mail from Wanda - THANKS

It is time to change from REDNECK humor to TRUE AMERICAN Humor!

Only it isn’t seen as HUMOR, but the correct way to LIVE YOUR LIFE! If you feel the same, pass this on to your True American friends. Y’all know who they are…You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: It never occurred to you to be offended by the phrase, “One nation, under God.”

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You’ve never protested about seeing the 10 Commandments posted in public places.

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You still say “Christmas” instead of “Winter Festival.”

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You bow your head when someone prays.

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You stand and place your hand over your heart when they play the National Anthem.

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You treat Viet Nam vets with great respect, and always have.

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You’ve never burned an American flag.

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You know what you believe and you aren’t afraid to say so, no matter who is listening.

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You respect your elders and expect your kids to do the same.

You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You’d give your last dollar to a friend.

God Bless the U S A! - - - Amen

OH - AND PLEASE - DO NOT FORGET TO SING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM IN ENGLISH.

As newly married people on our way to a military assignment in Korea - Fourth of July 1976 was an extremely special time in history for us for many reasons. On July 4th we stood in a line that extended a distance of three blocks around the National Archives.

The National Archives wait was nearly three hours. Upon entering the building we signed a book and were seemingly (after the long wait) “rushed” past the Declaration of Independence. I can still see the faces of the couple who arrived a few moments before we did.

This “waiting” seemed more a kin to a picnic conversation than complete strangers stuck in a long line. Waiting at the Archives and later waiting to get home after the fireworks were some of the better hours people could be spending together.

After FINALLY making it to our parked car from the Metro - We drove home on the GW Parkway and everything came to a complete stop.

People were running/walking up and down the line of cars - cars trapped in their new parking garage amongst the most beautiful trees. You’d never imagine how sincere, friendly and YES - Patriotic everyone was in their sharing. Whatever anyone needed - they could find - water, snacks, baby diapers, etc.

To this day - - I have not seen a 4th of July that could possibly measure up to the 4th of July we all celebrated in 1976 - Our country’s 200th official year. Have never seen fireworks with as much meaning and often don’t even bother trying to locate a good fireworks presentation.

The following is a Reader’s Digest article from July 1976. Written by Clare Boothe Luce who was a Congresswoman (from Connecticut, 1943-47) and U.S. Ambassador to Italy (1953-57), She is the author of numerous plays (among them, The Women and Kiss the Boys Goodbye), books and magazine articles.

THE MESSAGE OF THE FOURTH
Our forefathers believed - truly believed - that America was the “last, best hope of earth.” On our 200th birthday, we need above all else to rekindle that faith.

When I was a child, and the century was also young, the Fourth of July was - after Christmas - the happiest day of the year. It was a thrilling day of wonderful sights and sounds, of exciting smells. Red-white-and-blue was everywhere: flags high up on poles atop the public buildings, snapping straight in the wind; flags hanging down limp over front porches; flags on the lampposts, the wagons, even the horses’ harness; little flags parents bought, three for a dime, for their children to wave at the parade when it went up Main Street.

The background music of the Fourth was the noise of fireworks; and every small boy, tossing aloft his penny string of “crackers,” or cocking his cap pistol, imagined himself a hero, leading a charge against the Redcoats, Redskins or Rebels. These imaginary battles were suspended at midmorning, when our parents called us to “hurry,” or we would miss the start of the parade. Big or small, a parade is a parade is a parade. BUT there was the Forth of July parade I saw, when I was six or seven, that is still vivid in my memory.

The mayor, the town band, the police- and fire-department contingents had gone by, and there was a gap in the parade. Then, suddenly, came the mighty rat-a-tat-tat of marching drums and the fierce shrill of a fife, and my father leaned down to my brother and me and said, “Here’s the ‘Spirit of ‘76.’ ” And up Main Street came the ritual Fourth of July trio. Three Revolutionary generations, marching abreast into the first battle for America’s Freedom; the white-haired old drummer in shirtsleeves and waistcoat; the tall young fifer with the bloodstained bandage around his brow; and the drummer boy, no older than my brother.

As we would say today, the medium was the message. Right behind them marched a soldier in Khaki - a real soldier - bearing the Flag. Then all the fathers and grandfathers whipped off their hats, and everyone, standing straight and silent, put his hand on his heart as Old Glory went by.

After the parade, the marchers and the watchers (which generally meant the whole town) assembled in Courthouse Square to hear the Important Person delivery the glorious Fourth of July oration. A bunting-trimmed platform for the orator and wooden benches for the townspeople were usually erected for this great occasion. Parents promised their children that if they would sit still and listen, they could have “ice cream and sarsaparilla” later.

First on the program was the Reader of the Declaration of Independence, ,who was chosen largely for his lung power. “When, in the Course of human events . . . all men are created equal . . . endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights - Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness . . . .” So much we children couldn’t help hearing. But when the Proclaimer began listing the interminable tyrannies of wicked King George, we began to fidget; so did our parents. And, they didn’t really scold when we blew up our empty popcorn bags and burst them with our fists.

But we were shushed again when the Important Person mounted the platform. He always mopped his brow and face and neck thoroughly before he began, From then on, I remember, he just dripped.

“My fellow countrymen [wide gesture, embracing the whole town], we are come together to celebrate the birthday of our nation. . . . We are come together to resolve, once again, that this grr-reat nation [significant pause] - this nation, under God! [jabbing forefinger heavenward] - will always remain the home of the free and the land of the brave . . . ”

Did we children listen as he went on and on? Very little. By then we were yearning for night to fall, and impatient for the really big event; the FIREWORKS - the sparklers, Roman candles, pinwheels, rockets. AND yet, somehow, the essence of the oration came through to us:

The orator believed, and our parents believed, that Providence itself had decreed that the birth of our nation was the most important event in history since the Birth of Christ.

The orator believed, and our parents believed, that Providence itself had decreed that the Revolution should be won, the Union preserved, and America should become a great and prosperous nation.

The orator believed, and our parents believed, that the Republic had a providential mission; to show all the nations what blessings (what opportunity! what security! what prosperity! what happiness!) could flow to a people who rooted their political order in the moral order.

As a child, I imagined that God had called the Founding Fathers up into the Adirondack Mountains, and handed them the Declaration of Independence, just the way he had called Moses up on Mount Sinai to give him the Ten Commandments.

And so it was when the century and I were young.

For a people, as for a person, believing is all. All history bears witness that it is the believers who win the Revolutions, found the nations, conquer the oceans, tame the wildernesses, raise up great cities and great institutions. The doubters, the cynics, the unbelievers - they can scarcely shake the pebbles from their shoes much less move mountains.

The crisis in America today, and in all Western nations, is a crisis of belief. Only 22 percent of Americans express strong confidence in the ability of either free enterprise or the Federal government to solve their economic problems. A poll of Florida residents showed that, of those who didn’t vote in the recent Presidential primaries there, nearly half said it “makes little difference” which party wins in November. And in the richest, strongest, freest country in the world, the majority of the people believe that those in charge “don’t really care what happens to me.” (2007 NOTE: Time must be standing still?)

What has gone wrong? And how shall we set it right. We will not get the answer by stuffing our computers with statistics on the GNP, (2007 NOTE: Didn’t have Personal Computing then) inflation, unemployment, urban decay, crime, drugs and pollution. Statistics are mirrors held up to the face of the people. If we do not like the image we see reflected in them, we cannot change it merely by accusing the mirrors of distortion.

The image will change only if, somehow, we can re-establish the belief that this nation, in Abraham Lincoln’s words, is truly “the last best hope of earth.” It will change only if we, the people, can find within ourselves the moral and political responsibility to make it change - - and then to preserve it as well in the next 200 years as our forefathers did in the last 200.

U-Haul International is the nation’s largest provider of rental trailers. A Times investigation finds the company’s practices raise the risk of accidents on the road.

By Alan C. Miller and Myron Levin, Times Staff Writers

Photo courtesy of Aquatic Neurological Rehab Center (story below this one)

Tucson — Marissa Sternberg sits in her wheelchair, barely able to move or speak. Caregivers are always at her side. Progress is measured in tiny steps: an unclenched fist, a look of recognition, a smile for her father.

Nearly four years ago, Sternberg was a high-spirited 19-year-old bound for veterinary school in Denver. She rented a U-Haul trailer to move her belongings, hitched it to her Toyota Land Cruiser and hit the road with her two dogs and a friend.

That evening, as the Land Cruiser descended a hill in the Chihuahuan Desert of New Mexico, the trailer began to swing from side to side, pushing the SUV as if trying to muscle it off the road.

FLASH VIEW

“I knew something bad was going to happen,” recalled Corina Maya Hollander, who was taking a turn behind the wheel. “We both knew.”

The Land Cruiser flipped and bounced along Interstate 25. The trailer broke free and careened off the road. Hollander crawled from the wreckage, her head throbbing.

Sternberg, who had been thrown from the SUV, lay sprawled on the highway, unable to move.

“Where are my dogs?” she screamed. “Somebody go find my dogs!”

Sternberg fell victim to a peril long familiar to U-Haul International: “trailer sway,” a leading cause of severe towing accidents.

Traveling downhill or shaken by a sharp turn or a gust of wind, a trailer can begin swinging so violently that only the most experienced — or fortunate — drivers can regain control and avoid catastrophe. LONG READ Interactive and video to be found on the right side of the story.

FROM TWO YEARS AGO

Accident spurs Tucson couple to create aqua rehab center
From John Cafiero

Marissa Sternberg (left) works with physical therapist Shelley Regan at Tucson’s Aquatic Neurological Rehab Center.

It’s a nightmare scenario for any parent: successfully raising a child and sending her off on her own, only to have catastrophe befall her almost immediately. It happened to Brian and Lisa Sternberg.

“My whole life has changed. Everything I do, every place I go now is because of what happened,” says Lisa. MORE

E-Mail from Pat - Thanks!

Do you know the Preamble for your state … quite interesting. Important commentary at the end.

Alabama 1901, Preamble - We the people of the State of Alabama, invoking the favor and guidance of Almighty God, do ordain and establish the following Constitution.

Alaska 1956, Preamble - We, the people of Alaska, grateful to God an
d to those who founded our nation and pioneered this great land.

Arizona 1911, Preamble -. We, the people of the State of Arizona, grateful to Almighty God for our liberties, do ordain this Constitution…

Arkansas 1874, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Arkansas, grateful to Almighty God for the privilege of choosing our own form of government…

California 1879, Preamble - We, the People of the State of California, grateful to Almighty God for our freedom.

Colorado 1876, Preamble - We, the people of Colorado, with profound
reverence for the Supreme Ruler of Universe.

Connecticut 1818, Preamble - The People of Connecticut, acknowledging
with gratitude the good Providence of God in permitting them to enjoy.

Delaware 1897, Preamble - Through Divine Goodness all men have, by nature, the rights of worshipping and serving their Creator according to the dictates of their consciences.

Florida 1885, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Florida, grateful to Almighty God for our constitutional liberty, establish this Constitution….

Georgia 1777, Preamble - We, the people of Georgia, relying upon protection and guidance of Almighty God, do ordain and establish this Constitution…

Hawaii 1959, Preamble - We, the people of Hawaii, Grateful for Divine Guidance. Establish this Constitution.

Idaho 1889, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Idaho, grateful to Almighty God for our freedom, to secure its blessings…

Illinois 1870, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Illinois, grateful to Almighty God for the civil law, political and religious liberty which He hath so long permitted us to enjoy and looking to Him for a blessing on our endeavors.

Indiana 1851, Preamble - We, the People of the State of Indiana, grateful to Almighty God for the free exercise of the right to choose our form of government.

Iowa 1857, Preamble - We, the People of the State of Iowa, grateful to the Supreme Being for the blessings hitherto enjoyed, and feeling our dependence on Him for a continuation of these blessings! establish this Constitution

Kansas 1859, Preamble - We, the people of Kansas, grateful to Almighty God for our civil and religious privileges establish this Constitution.

Kentucky 1891, Preamble - We, the people of the Commonwealth are grateful to Almighty God for the civil, political and religious liberties…

Louisiana 1921, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Louisiana, grateful to Almighty God for the civil, political and religious liberties we enjoy.

Maine 1820, Preamble - We the People of Maine acknowledging with grateful hearts the goodness of the Sovereign Ruler of the Universe in affording us an opportunity… And imploring His aid and direction.

Maryland 1776, Preamble - We, the people of the state of Maryland, grateful to Almighty God for our civil and religious liberty…

Massachusetts 1780, Preamble - We…the people of Massachusetts, acknowledging with grateful hearts, the goodness of the Great Legislator of the Universe.. In the
course of His Providence, an opportunity and devoutly imploring His direction.

Michigan 1908, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Michigan, grateful to Almighty God for the blessings of freedom establish this Constitution.

Minnesota, 1857, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Minnesota, grateful to God for our civil and religious liberty, and desiring to perpetuate its blessings…

Mississippi 1890, Preamble - We, the people of Mississippi in convention assembled, grateful to Al mighty God, and invoking His blessing on our work.

Missouri 1845, Preamble - We, the people of Missouri, with profound reverence for the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, and grateful for His goodness.. Establish this Constitution.

Montana 1889, Preamble - We, the people of Montana, grateful to Almighty God for the blessings of liberty establish this Constitution.

Nebraska 1875, Preamble - We, the people, grateful to Almighty God for our freedom. Establish this Constitution.

Nevada 1864, Preamble - We the people of the State of Nevada, grateful to Almighty God for our freedom establish this Constitution.

New Hampshire 1792, Part I. Art. I. Sec. V. - Every individual has a natural and unalienable right to worship God according to the dictates of his own conscience.

New Jersey 1844, Preamble - We, the people of the State of New Jersey, grateful to Almighty God for civil and religious liberty which He hath so long permitted us to enjoy, and looking to Him for a blessing on our endeavors.

New Mexico 1911, Preamble - We, the People of New Mexico, grateful to Almighty God for the blessings of liberty…

New York 1846, Preamble - We, the people of the State of New York, grateful to Almighty God for our freedom, in order to secure its blessings.

North Carolina 1868, Preamble - We the people of the State of North Carolina, grateful to Almighty God, the Sovereign Ruler of Nations, for our civil, political, and religious liberties, and acknowledging our dependence upon Him for the continuance of those…

North Dakota 1889, Preamble - We, the people of North Dakota, grateful to Almighty God for the blessings of civil and religious liberty, do or dain…

Ohio 1852, Preamble - We the people of the state of Ohio, grateful to Almighty God for our freedom, to secure its blessings and to promote our common…

Oklahoma 1907, Preamble - Invoking the guidance of Almighty God, in order to secure and perpetuate the blessings of liberty… establish this…

Oregon 1857, Bill of Rights, Article I. Section 2. - All men shall be secure in the Natural right, to worship Almighty God according to the dictates of their consciences…

Pennsylvania 1776, Preamble - We, the people of Pennsylvania, grateful to Almighty God for the blessings of civil and religious liberty, and humbly invoking His guidance.

Rhode Island 1842, Preamble - We the People of the State of Rhode Island grateful to Almighty God for the civil and religious liberty which He hath so long permitted us to enjoy, and looking to Him for a blessing…

South Carolina, 1778, Preamble - We, the people of he State of South Carolina grateful to God for our liberties, do ordain and establish this Constitution.

South Dakota 1889, Preamble - We, the people of South Dakota, grateful to Almighty God for our civil and religious liberties.

Tennessee 1796, Art. XI.III. - That all men have a natural and indefeasible right to worship Almighty God according to the dictates of their conscience…

Texas 1845, Preamble - We the People of the Republic of Texas, acknowledging, with gratitude, the grace and beneficence of God.

Utah 1896, Preamble - Grateful to Almighty God for life and liberty, we establish this Constitution.

Vermont 1777, Preamble - Whereas all government ought to enable the individuals who compose it to enjoy their natural rights, and other blessings which the Author of Existence has bestowed on man.

Virginia 1776, Bill of Rights, XVI Religion, or the Duty which we owe our Creator can be directed only by Reason and that it is the mutual duty of all to practice Christian Forbearance, Love and Charity towards each other.

Washington 1889, Preamble - We the People of the State of Washington, grateful to the Supreme Ruler of the Universe for our liberties, do ordain this Constitution.

West Virginia 1872, Preamble - Since through Divine Providence we enjoy the blessings of civil, political and religious liberty, we, the people of West Virginia reaffirm our faith in and constant reliance upon God…

Wisconsin 1848, Preamble - We, the people of Wisconsin, grateful to Almighty God for our freedom, domestic tranquility.

Wyoming 1890, Preamble - We, the people of the State of Wyoming, grateful to God for our civil, political, and religious liberties…establish this Constitution.

After reviewing acknowledgments of God from all 50 state constitutions, one is faced with the prospect that maybe, the ACLU and the out-of-control Federal courts are wrong! If you found this to be “Food for thought” copy and send to as many as you think will be enlightened as I hope you were.