Cornucopia: Happy Birthday, Marines

In honor of the Marine Corps’s birthday, I’m re-posting my essay: “Mimi’s Dilemma: The Thing About Patriotism and Faith”.  The boy in this essay will be completing his tour of duty with the Marines in June, 2021 and his Mimi is still waiting with open arms. Although, I suspect the menu will be different.

Mimi’s Dilemma: The Thing About Patriotism and Faith

By Kate Chamberlin

November, 2015

   A huge lump formed in my throat. I stood paralyzed with tears streaming down my cheeks. I struggled to catch my breath.  No sound escaped my lips. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry at the news I’d just received.

   Once before, my faith in God had been challenged by an event in my life, but, never before had my Patriotism been challenged, until now.

   My 17-year old grandson, the new-born we brought home from the hospital, adopted, and raised for the first 13 years of his life, just phoned to tell me he’d signed-up with the United States Marine Corps. I felt tremendous pride in his decision, yet, fear welled up inside me, too.

   As my eager fingers held the scissors, the doctor guided my hand toward the baby’s umbilical cord. The sharp surgical scissors sliced through the chord’s sinewy tissue. The nurse guided my hands onto the wet head of my first grandson.

   The definition of Patriotism is, as found in “A Manual of Patriotism”, authorized by an Act of the New York State Legislature in 1900: “…Patriotism is more than a sentiment; it is a conviction based upon a comprehension of the duties of a citizen and a determination loyally to perform such duties. Patriotism is love of country, familiarity with its history, reverence for its institutions and faith in its possibilities, and is evidenced by obedience to its laws and respect for the flag…”

   “Yours will be a blessed life,” I softly said to him as I stood near the warming table awaiting his APGAR. He turned his head as if to look at me and tightened his grip on my finger. ”I’m your Mimi. Your Mommy’s my daughter. My husband’s your granddad. We’re your family and we love you very much.”

   Patriotic is an adjective used to describe members of the National Society of Daughters of the American Revolution and I don’t doubt that for a minute. I am one of them. The bonds that DAR members have, just by virtue of their ancestor fighting–and some of them dying–in the American Revolution, provide a strong impetus toward being patriotic. They have family members who felt strongly enough to lay down their lives for the ideal that is our daily life now.

   “I couldn’t help but wonder about my grandchild’s future. Would NATO, the UN and SEATO be able to stabilize the world? Would the AMA allow the HMO’s to get out of hand? Could the WHO and UNESCO possibly make a healthier planet for the survival of our species?”

   If we expect our children and grandchildren to be patriotic, we need to be role models of courage, strength of character and determination. There were many cool summer mornings at my grandmother’s Saltbox home in Connecticut, when we’d drag the heavy wooden kitchen step-stool out to put the sturdy standard bearing the large American flag into its bracket on the side of the house. 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. She was a dedicated member of the Eunice Denny Burr Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

   I still give a salute when I put up or take down my flag. As a dedicated member of the Col. Wm. Prescott chapter in NY, I encourage my grandchildren and neighborhood children to respect our American flag as they assist me in presenting our colors.

   “Little Love,” I whispered fighting back the tears of awe and joy, “grow strong; learn your ABC’s and how to count by 2’s and 3’s. Learn Latin, Spanish and French with just a little Chinese.

   ”For now, Little One, your life’s a bowl of cherries. We’ll leave the pits for later.”

   Alas, those words spoken at his birth come back to haunt me. He is going to march off to some God-forsaken war.

   When I lost my sight 30-years ago, I railed “My God. My God. Why have you forsaken me in this darkness?” However, time has shown me over and over again how He has carried me when I fell down. How my Guardian Angel worked over-time to nudge me away from danger. How He brought others into my life to walk with me. How He loves me in spite of my mood swings, rants, and doubts. Where is He now, when my grandson is going to march into harm’s way?   

   The realization seeps into my mind. My grandson is being patriotic and following my role model of courage, strength of character and determination. The lump in my throat has dissolved. My cheeks are dry. My heart swells within me. we’ve done a good and noble job with this grandson.

   So, my young grandson, march off with my Blessings to new adventures to fulfill your dream of becoming a United States Marine. After basic training, your Mimi will be waiting here with milk and cookies for you. Okay. Okay, beer and pretzels!

  “…though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…”

Amen