America
The American Flag.
Seeing it has caused me to walk a little taller. Seeing it flying over a base, a building or a home, the sun shinging through it or over it, makes me think about the many people that have served or are serving this country.
For as long as I can remember, the flag, and all that it stands for, has moved me in ways that nothing else has ever done. I can‘t listen the Star Bangled Banner, America, the Pledge of Allegiance or any other national hymn without getting emotional.
A year ago, today, 9/11/06 I stepped off a plane in Kuwait. It was right before the plane touched down that I realized what date it was. The irony of our landing on, and in it being the fifth anniversary of 9/11, was not lost on us. From the plane, across the tarmac and during the bus ride to our temporary ‘hooch’s’, all that I thought about was my son, Sergio.
Five years earlier, he and I sat on the edge of my bed, watching, along with the rest of the world, hours of news coverage, on what was, and continuous to be, one of the darkest hours in American history. Sergio was a couple of months shy of reaching his sixth birthday; some of you may believe that it was wrong of me to expose him to that but at that age, he had the capacity to develop questions and opinions, he proved this to me less than five years later.
I received my orders but Monica and I decided to not tell the boys about it. We waited, and about a month before I was scheduled to leave we broke the news to them. They sat and listened to me, to us. Sergio took it in, stoically. Marcelo looked at the ground, then at mom, then Sergio and finally, to me. “Why do you have to go?” As I was fighting to find the right words, Sergio looked at Marcelo, drawing his attention from me and said, “It’s because of what they did to the Towers.” The emotions came over me. I reached out and took them both in my arms, kissing the tops of their heads.
I remember the feelings that I went through then, some of which I still experience now, especially today.
I do not regret serving my country, never will. What I do regret is that although we went into this conflict with the best of intentions, we now have very little, if anything, to show for it.
Yet and still, keep supporting the men and women that serve their communities and their country.
God Bless America.
My country tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died!
Land of the Pilgrim's pride!
From every mountain side,
Let freedom ring!
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love.
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture fills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song.
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
Our father's God to, Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King!
Seeing it has caused me to walk a little taller. Seeing it flying over a base, a building or a home, the sun shinging through it or over it, makes me think about the many people that have served or are serving this country.
For as long as I can remember, the flag, and all that it stands for, has moved me in ways that nothing else has ever done. I can‘t listen the Star Bangled Banner, America, the Pledge of Allegiance or any other national hymn without getting emotional.
A year ago, today, 9/11/06 I stepped off a plane in Kuwait. It was right before the plane touched down that I realized what date it was. The irony of our landing on, and in it being the fifth anniversary of 9/11, was not lost on us. From the plane, across the tarmac and during the bus ride to our temporary ‘hooch’s’, all that I thought about was my son, Sergio.
Five years earlier, he and I sat on the edge of my bed, watching, along with the rest of the world, hours of news coverage, on what was, and continuous to be, one of the darkest hours in American history. Sergio was a couple of months shy of reaching his sixth birthday; some of you may believe that it was wrong of me to expose him to that but at that age, he had the capacity to develop questions and opinions, he proved this to me less than five years later.
I received my orders but Monica and I decided to not tell the boys about it. We waited, and about a month before I was scheduled to leave we broke the news to them. They sat and listened to me, to us. Sergio took it in, stoically. Marcelo looked at the ground, then at mom, then Sergio and finally, to me. “Why do you have to go?” As I was fighting to find the right words, Sergio looked at Marcelo, drawing his attention from me and said, “It’s because of what they did to the Towers.” The emotions came over me. I reached out and took them both in my arms, kissing the tops of their heads.
I remember the feelings that I went through then, some of which I still experience now, especially today.
I do not regret serving my country, never will. What I do regret is that although we went into this conflict with the best of intentions, we now have very little, if anything, to show for it.
Yet and still, keep supporting the men and women that serve their communities and their country.
God Bless America.
My country tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died!
Land of the Pilgrim's pride!
From every mountain side,
Let freedom ring!
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love.
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture fills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song.
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
Our father's God to, Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King!
posted by szamora at 1:25 PM
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