Tag Archives: America

Patriotism: Teach Your Children Well

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American flag – photo credit Euclid Library

I’ve always been interested in politics.  Well, at least since the summer of 6th grade.  I was visiting my Nanny and Granddaddy and while they were busy running a wholesale nursery business, I watched the national conventions (for both major parties I might add).  All the fanfare of speeches promising to make America better had me hooked. Not that at that time in my life I had strong opinions about what was wrong with my country, but the passion for citizenship was alluring. I have never had an interest in running for office, but I believe the election process is one that we should all teach our children.

I am a product of the Weekly Reader voting booths.  I remember the pomp and circumstance with which the whole experience was created and carried out back in my days at Gentian Elementary School in Columbus, Georgia. The school used actual voting booths (complete with the little patriotic curtains) as we marched solemnly to cast our votes for either Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan.  The excitement was palpable even if we were marching silently in straight lines to make our mark on history.

Jumping forward in time, I have always taken my children (even in car seats) to the voting booth with me.  I read each word to them, and we discuss our choices (even though only my vote counted).  I am THAT mom.  The one huddled in the corner of the room so as not to disturb other voters.  This election season one of my children has reached voting age, and I am thrilled he will be exercising his right to do so, which leads to today’s message.

Having formerly lived in primary states, the caucus system was a somewhat new experience for me.  I wish my voting record (including reading ballots WORD FOR WORD to my kiddos) or my re-creation of my childhood voting booth for the last twelve years for my children’s school would be enough alone to speak to my patriotism.  It would not because I would only be fooling myself. The truth is until Reed was twelve I had never participated in a caucus before.

After learning about the caucus process, Reed really wanted to attend and watch (obviously being too young to participate).  For those who knew my red-headed wonder, his passion for a new idea or learning concept had no limits.  In his enthusiasm, he attempted to persuade his Social Studies teacher to offer extra credit to all who attended a caucus of their choice.  In Mr. W’s defense, I think he thought Reed was looking for a few extra points, when in reality he was trying to encourage his classmates to get out and learn.  I don’t know what the final outcome was of those extra points, but I do know that my sweet boy attended his first caucus and was thrilled by the experience.

I didn’t tag along with Reed that year because we had already made plans to have dinner guests that evening.  If I knew then, what I know now, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.  Reed only lived one more week of life, but that one evening of learning is one that has never left me.  He cared more about what makes this country great than he worried about missing an hour of dinner with great friends.

We need more of that in America.

There are many times in life when the student becomes the teacher.  That night was no different.  I remember his enthusiastic conversation as I picked him up.  He was genuinely proud to be a part of history in the making, agog over the choice he would have made in the straw poll.  I secretly took pride and felt disappointed at the same time.  Proud of my young man for growing up and living out his passion for learning and disappointed that I wasn’t there to enjoy it with him.

So no matter your beliefs or ideologies, think about living out your patriotism for one little red-headed wonder (who would have advocated for extra credit for all of us). Step out of your comfort zone, learn something new, and be a part of what makes America AWESOME!  I know Reed would be proud of my plans for the evening.

God bless the 1%

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I’ve never really put much thought into this very real life truism, but men and women are totally different. Maybe some of my obliviousness comes from the fact that for the first ten years of my life my best friends were my brother and my two boy cousins. Oh, I was all girl, but I did a pretty good job of keeping up with the guys. Maybe I was clueless not noticing any major differences in our thinking. They were just my buddies. This trend continued with all my guy friends throughout high school and college.

As I grew up and married the love of my life, I began to realize there really are some distinct differences between our thinking. Honestly, I cringe internally at men bashing when I hear it. Even though there are times when my sweetie drives me crazy, I am EQUALLY sure that is a two-way street.

This summer, an event with my guy taught me a valuable lesson, one I had never before entertained.

Losing a man’s respect is probably the worst thing another man can do.

A very painful experience left my husband disappointed by people. My daddy even noticed it, mentioning it to me in our most recent phone conversation. “He is about the most laid back guy around. This really upset him. I had never seen him worked up like that before.” My dad’s witness came to bear when we were all vacationing together, the coastal Florida life.

It was on our final night on the island a chance encounter happened which restored some of my sweetie’s belief in humanity. With such a large group traveling together, we made most of our meals at the beach house and chose to splurge on a few local hotspots. One of those favorites was dining at a restaurant that sits at the end of a busy city pier. Along the edges of the long walk out to the café are countless fishermen reeling in the evening’s catch.

Shenanigans on the pier.

Shenanigans on the pier.

After enjoying some amazing grouper meals, we began to meander back to the shore. My husband, an avid fisherman and hunter, couldn’t resist asking the locals what was biting. One gentleman was more than happy to visit. Looking back now, I feel that his spot on that pier was divine intervention.

He shared he was hoping for tarpon as it was the season for them, but instead he had snagged a baby shark (which are plentiful on the island). Our kids were now entranced by his every word. Sally asked what he did with the shark. He was an ethical fisherman, and he explained that the two foot shark had a bit down pretty hard and was not able to be saved. Of course, everyone wanted to see the shark.

“Blessed are the curious for they shall have adventure” became a real theme this evening as our littlest peppered him with questions.

What are you going to do with the shark?

I will eat him. I took him; so, now I have to eat him. Some people would throw him back but that isn’t the right thing to do.

Well, how in the world do you cook shark?

After I fillet him, I will make shark nuggets and fry them in some oil. My family and I will enjoy him. I just got back home and this will be a good meal for us.

The entire time this conversation was going on, the gentleman was still fishing on the edges of the illuminated pier. One look at him with the larger than life musculature and military haircut gave me a pretty good idea where he just returned from to get home.

I asked him if he was in the military. In true Southern fashion, an audible “yes ma’am” confirmed what my heart already knew. He explained that he was home after his fourth tour in Iraq.   Without skipping a beat, I thanked him for his service, explaining my gratitude was coming from the heart of a veteran’s wife.

Fielding questions on what’s biting didn’t hold the same reverence as embracing a fellow soldier. Putting down his fishing pole and stepping up the higher level of the pier, he stuck out his hand and asked my husband where he had served.   A quick exchange of service details emerged, both mutually thanking the other for their willingness to answer freedom’s call.

As we were ready to head on back, the soldier at the pier had one final parting utterance.

Thank you, my brother, for being part of the 1 percent! We are an elite group.*

I don’t know that soldier’s story, but I do know my mine. Joining the Army National Guard as a way to help with paying for college, he was only eighteen years old, the same age as our Boy Wonder, when Uncle Sam needed his help halfway around the world to defend freedom. He served one tour, which he rarely speaks about unless it is to share a story of camaraderie among the troops. His patriotism is unparalleled, and even though he has voluntarily left the military, he would serve again if his country asked him.

His trust broken, just a few weeks previous, left an indelible mark, but the soldier on the pier reminded him and all of us the words honor and duty and respect are alive and well. Real men who embody real ideals met for one brief moment on the edge of a pier; their happenstance encounter restoring some of what had been lost.

We learned in the exchange the fisherman would soon be returning for another tour, and wherever he is we pray that God keeps him safe. And hopefully, he knows how much we appreciate his willingness to be the one percent allowing us all to sleep in peace at night!

God bless my 1%!

God bless my 1%!

*Only one percent of the American population has ever served in active combat.

Voting matters . . . even to kids

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There are many things in life, good and bad, that our children learn from watching us.  On the good end of the spectrum, one of the things I have hoped to model for my children is the awesome privilege it is to exercise our right to vote in America.  Since they were born, my kiddos have been carted to voting booths in car seats, in near blizzards, uphill both ways.  (Okay the last part was a bit of an exaggeration, but car seats and blustery conditions are not.)

Not all experiences even in a country as great as ours are innate.  Just like the mourning doves each summer in my backyard teach their offspring, we need to model for our children the voting process.  Hence the reason that I have taken my kids along every time I vote.  Is it convenient? No.  Is it easy? No.  Would I rather go to the polling place by myself? Not in a million years!

My kiddos have come to expect that during election season that we will talk about the candidates and what they represent.  Then on voting day, we find a table (or sometimes the floor where we can be away from the crowd), and I read each and every word on the ballot.  We then discuss which candidate for whom we are going to vote.  Then we (well, actually I) mark the ballot.  When we are done discussing and marking the ballot, we cast our official ballot (which has evolved over the years as technology has changed).

Even when we moved away from the Marshall area briefly, we exercised our right to vote using the absentee ballot system.  (My kids were crushed when they could not go to the polling place and when they didn’t receive an “I voted” sticker by mail.)  It was then that I realized that my goal of  trying to teach my children about the election process and civic responsibilities that they “got it”.  They understood the importance of voting, and it mattered to them that I take them along.

Yes, I have strong convictions about my voting and making my vote count, and I also have friends in just about every political ideology group possible. Voting with my children isn’t indoctrination; it’s an educational opportunity. I vote very differently from my parents and siblings, and someday there is a good chance my children will do the same.  And I am okay with that.  In fact, my tenth grade son created his own political t-shirt for Election Day espousing his “vote” for Jimmy McMillan for President – because “The Rent is still too high”.   He did it to be silly, but sometimes in a world of incredibly mean-spirited attack ads some levity is needed. At the end of the day, I know where his actual vote would be cast, but I didn’t impede his freedom of expression today.

Voting matters – even to our kids! So if you haven’t had a chance to make it to the polls today.  I really encourage you to do so, and if you have kids under the age of 18, I HIGHLY encourage you to take them along.  You might get a few stares (like I did this morning with 3 kids in tow waiting in line at 6:50 AM for my ward’s polling place to open), but you never know, you might get a few smiles from those that see a family voting together.

God Bless America!  God Bless You! And, please vote today!