Dear Editor,
“Cradled in Liberty”
Last night in a fitful dream there came
before me the most astounding sight. A rag tag column of personnel, emerging
from a stand of trees. A small figure, yet it was but a boy in torn trousers
carrying “Old Glory”, and beside him a little drummer boy.
Struggling behind were the remnants of
tired volunteers, their feet wrapped in clothes to shield them on the icy
paths. Yes, it was the time of the revolution and those were the minute men.
They were at the point where the shot was fired, “heard round the world”.
Old Glory was frayed and holes were
pierced from gunshot and cannon, but it was held high!
The image of Frances Scott Key came into
view. Through the mist I saw the Star Spangled Banner “still waving”. Through
the haze there appeared a large column of men struggling to walk, others being
held up exhausted, starving men, being prodded by guards with bayonets and
rifles. “The march from Bataan, Where only a handful survived.
Then I saw the nurses, with bandaged
heads and arms, “The Angels of the Battlefields”. They were who held your sons
in their last moments. (What you might say, has this got to do with the “red,
white and blue?”)
Well, Sir, in my book it has everything
to do with why we are here in America to work and worship as we choose. Why if
we choose, we can become worthy
citizens.
“It is because – someone is willing to
carry our flag.”
All our beliefs and needs are wrapped in
this precious symbol.
“Do not let anyone degrade her!”
Our flag represents everything we
sacrificed and fought and died for.
“These thread’s hold together a great
nation. It is a cloth that cradles the hopes of the world.”
(Hold her high)
Fred Collins
The American
Westbrook
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