Reminiscing

reminiscing

I rose early one cool summer morning and took my mug of instant orange capucchino out onto our porch. The birds were rather twitterpated, but all else was quiet. Wheaton, my guide dog, was like a warm blanket on my feet while the mug of coffee warmed my fingers. The sweet, hot liquid tasted good and my thoughts began to wander.
I traveled a lot as a young woman. I played in the dirt with dusty Mexican children as their mother and aunts wove the beautiful sarape that hangs in my game room; I marveled at the huge wedding in Canada where everyone was actually related to each other; I recoiled in horror to find I was sharing my bed in Portugal with cockroaches; I felt my heart palpitate when La Tuna in Spain serenaded me beneath my balcony window; I had my picture taken with the monkies on Gibraltar; and I felt more than nervous walking around the market place in Tangiers.
My Dad often said he wanted me to travel as much as I could, so that if I was ever in a position where I couldn’t “get out”, I’d have a lot to think about. He was a very wise man.
After all is said and done, I choose to live in America. Call me old-fashioned, maybe even a prude, but I am proud to be an American.
I admit I feel goose bumps when I hear the fife and drum music during a parade. I stand when I sing the national anthem and I get really ticked when humanoids burn the American flag.
I suppose you could call me the melted pot . I have seven different nationalities in my ancestry, and yet, I don’t label myself Swedish-American or French-American, etc. Only in America do we have the freedom to use the labels African-American or Japanese-American. Perhaps only the Indians could use Cherokee-American or -Seneca-American. Everyone else is American with varying cultural flavorings.
I remembered an article Jack Fleischer, the Co-ordinator of Honor America, wrote to Ann Landers (D&C, June 13, 1998) on a little known law that mandates a 21-day salute from June 14 to July 4th to honor our American flag and the patriotism it represents. He had suggestions for special activities to do during the period of Flag Day to Independence Day.
Then My thoughts wandered to cool summer mornings at my grandmother’s home in Connecticut. She was a dedicated member of the Eunice Denny Burr Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Each morning we would put the heavy standard bearing the large American flag into its bracket on the side of the house. It was up tall and we had to carry the stool from the kitchen out with us. When our flag was snuggly in its holder, we’d stand back and salute. Each evening we’d bring the flag in with just as much solemnity and ceremony. It was part of being at Nana’s.
I still give a salute when I put up or take down my flag. When my neighbors children are here, I encourage them to assist me and I hope to encourage my grandchildren to respect the American flag, too.

“Kate,” my husband said coming out onto the porch, breaking into my revery. “What are you doing?” he asked sleepily.
Not wanting to have him think I was a sentimental old fool, I said, “I’m waiting for the sunrise.”
“Kate,” he chided and kissed me on the cheek, “you’re facing west.
Oh dear Gussie, only in America!