I think at some point a year or so ago I discussed the fact that, at the urging of the pirate and with much kicking, screaming and gnashing of teeth on my part, I signed up for some classes at our local community college. By nature of my job, I accumulated a considerable amount of credit hours that are applicable to an AS degree in Fire Science.
Granted, it's not molecular bio-engineering or advanced macroeconomics, but it's a degree nonetheless.
And with the end of my career in sight, blurry and out-of-focus but in sight, I need to figure out what I want to do when I grow up and, as the pirate is fond of pointing out, it would be beneficial to me to make myself more marketable.
My point that I'm rather lovable didn't hold water.
I know, I'm shocked too.
So I started last year with a Speech class. While speaking in front of a group is something that many people find harrowing, it comes somewhat naturally for me. I've got a wee bit of experience in it.
And I did fine, even though it was more difficult getting in front of my class of ten than it is to speak to two thousand high school students I've never met. That was weird.
But it was a start. So, this semester, I took a Political Science class. I've become kind of a political wonk the last couple years and I thought this might be interesting.
I was right. I loved the class. It was all online which, while depriving me of the experience of being in a classroom, something I want to get more of, it fits in really well with my work schedule.
And as we near the end of the semester, one of the assignments was...
the TERM PAPER
As you say those words, in your head you should hear very dramatic music.
No, more dramatic than that, try again.
Once more, this time put some effort into it. Reach back into the archives of your brain for some daytime drama, "just found out your best friend has an incurable whatever" music
once again-
the TERM PAPER (see? wasn't that better?)
Now mind you, it was only 1000 words, about 4 pages, but still it was my first ever term paper (you still heard the dramatic music didn't you?) and I was a little intimidated by the assignment.
But I did it. It was supposed to be on a character of our choice from a book the professor wrote called "The Friends Whose Names I'll Never Know" about his visits to the Middle East. I thought I did OK on it. Not great, but figured I was good for a "C" or maybe a "B" if the professor was in a good mood.
He must've been in a great mood when he read it, I got a 96! Let me say that again 9frickin6!!!
Don't you just love the way it rolls off your tongue? 9 6 96, 96, 96, 96, 96!
Sorry, couldn't resist...
So here, without further ado, my term paper (still heard the music didn't you?)
“Patriotism means that you love your country. Love is an awfully high standard. If I love my family, it means that I’m willing to sacrifice and even die for them. I have sacrificed for them, and I would die for them. This type of love implies that I would do what is best for them in spite of the personal cost. So when they are acting in a way that is right, I encourage them. But what about when they don’t? My daughters are currently very young, but what about 10 or 15 years from now? What if one of them, God forbid, became a drug addict? Do I encourage that behavior because I love her? Or do I confront this behavior and show her how it can ultimately destroy her?” (Culp, Todd The Friends Whose Names I’ll Never Know page 36)
As I read this particular paragraph, and those that immediately followed, my mind drifted to a few different points. First, a phrase whose origin I don’t know but one I heard first and repeatedly during the presidency of Bush 43, by singer/songwriter Steve Earle, “Dissent does not equal treason.” This phrase struck a chord with me since I was opposed to almost everything President Bush represented. Although I felt he did a good job in the initial days after September 11, 2001 it became clear as the shock of the attack started to wane that Mr. Bush and certain members of his Cabinet seemed interested in something other than justice for the people that attacked the country and killed almost 3,000 people. Love of country can be evidenced in many ways, and as this slogan attests, not the least of which is by getting up off your backside and making your voice heard.
Next, my thoughts turned to men like Dr. Ralph Abernathy and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., creating, organizing and leading the American Civil Rights Movement. The personal attacks they withstood as they fought for racial equality and an end to Jim Crow segregation speaks volumes about their patriotism -
“Abernathy endured with equanimity devastating bombings, violent and brutal beatings by southern policemen and State Troopers, 44 arrests, daily death threats against his life and those of his wife and children. He endured the confiscation of his inheritance of family land and his automobile, which his family had to re-purchase at public auction. He endured the continual terrorizing of Dr. King, threats against and the bombing of the King home, the murders of colleagues, their civil rights workers, volunteering college students in the struggle, visiting ministers, a young white housewife who went to Selma and five innocent children in Birmingham. King and Abernathy, undaunted, unrelentingly marched the streets of the South proclaiming, ‘Let my people go.’” (Wikipedia contributors. "Ralph Abernathy." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 15 Apr. 2013. Web. 22 Apr. 2013)
Patriotism truly takes on many forms, from the soldier fighting (and often dying) for his/her country to the protester marching in the streets to try and bring an end to war. I’m speaking, of course, not just of American soldiers or protesters in American cities, I’m speaking just as clearly of Israeli (and Palestinian) soldiers and Palestinian (and Israeli) protesters.
As Jonatan Shapira described his experience during the screening of Little Town of Bethlehem, I was taken by how he described his home life; child of a decorated Israeli Air Force fighter pilot, wanting nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps, becoming himself a Black Hawk helicopter pilot and then, at the risk of alienating not just his country, but his own family, becomes a refusenik and speaks out, as well as acting out, against what he termed war crimes. To make such statements, in a militaristic country such as Israel, is tantamount to an American wearing an “I Heart Osama Bin Laden” t-shirt. I can’t imagine the courage it took Jonatan to come to the conclusion that this was something he must do. As Dr. Culp interviewed an active duty soldier in Chapter 5 -
“I once asked an active duty soldier what he thought of the Refuseniks. His answer was fascinating.’I have a great deal of respect for their courage, but I could never do that.’
‘Why?’ I asked
‘Because I would lose everything’
‘What do you mean by everything?’
‘I mean everything. My family. My friends. My career after the military. Everything.’
‘How is your career connected to your military service?’
‘It’s all about connections. If you have a good military record, it opens all sorts of doors for you later in civilian life. If you refuse, those doors are slammed shut.’
Try to grasp that concept. Everything you hold dear may be taken from you. As it turned out in Jonatan’s case, his family still embraced him, his mother helping in, I think it was, a school for Palestinian children and his father, his father the military hero, defending his son to old comrades.
Similarly, I have a hard time grasping what the Freedom Riders and the others from the American Civil Rights Movement of the 60’s faced. I remember, vaguely, watching some of the protests as a child, but as a rural, northern pre-teen from an all white part of the country, it really was lost on me. I don’t recall my parents as being racist, although, looking back, there was probably language used that is unacceptable today, especially from an aunt that was from Florida. But Aunt Roberta aside, my family had no stake to speak of in the movement so it didn’t register with us. As my life has progressed obviously I’ve seen movies and television programs and read books regarding the struggles for equality that African Americans faced and, sadly, in many cases still face today. Many people, both black and white, lost everything, some even their lives, during the 60’s as Jim Crow often refused to go down without a fight.
There are numerous stories from the southern states; from Brown v. Board of Education, to Little Rock Central High School, to the passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, of intimidation by the Ku Klux Klan on both southern blacks and northern whites that came to help the cause. Imagine, not being able to sit at a lunch counter because of the color of your skin? Who today wouldn’t fight such an atrocity with all they’re worth? Why did it take us so long to make any progress? I wish I knew...
As Steve Earle penned in his song “Jerusalem” -
I woke up this mornin' and none of the news was good
And death machines were rumblin' 'cross the ground where Jesus stood
And the man on my TV told me that it had always been that way
And there was nothin' anyone could do or say
And I almost listened to him
Yeah, I almost lost my mind
Then I regained my senses again
And looked into my heart to find
That I believe that one fine day all the children of Abraham
Will lay down their swords forever in Jerusalem
I wish I knew what was (is) contained in the character of a person that causes them to risk quite literally, everything they hold dear to fight for a cause no matter how just it may be. I’d like to think I possess such a trait, but I fear I don’t.
And I have to admit, I'm pretty proud of my work on this, I hope you liked it and thanks for indulging me
