Patriotism

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My Grandfather was a Baptist preacher. Once, when I was five years old, he was having children's time at the front of the church (for those of you who don't know, that's when the pastor calls all the children up to the pulpit and sits down, with a cute little mini-sermon just for them that normally includes visual aids and candy). He was holding a small American flag. Grandfather went into a five minute discourse about the importance of buying American, supporting the American economy, and all that (this must have been around the time of the stock market crash in the mid 1980s). I was spoiled, so he let me hold on to the flag while he talked.

Well, Grandfather was getting really into it, he had all but forgotten the children sitting in front of him and had decided to tailor his mini-sermon to the audience as well. He started speaking louder and faster, waving his arms, driving the point home in eloquent speech about the importance of buying American. I started tugging his coattail with a chubby, pink hand.

"Grandpa?" I said, never the kind to be shy.

"Not now, Chardon." And he went on with waving his arms and preaching loudly, pointing at the flag in my tiny little hand. I think he even quoted the national anthem.

"Grandpa?" I was tugging his coattail again.

"Chardon, in a minute!" He gave me a stern look, a kind that Grandpa hardly ever gave and honestly wasn't very good at, to let me know that I was messing up his flow. He looked back up at the congregation, again stressing the importance of buying American, pointing to the little American flag in my hand.

I am not now, nor have I ever had a shy bone in my body. And I have always hated being ignored, no matter how opportune the timing. I stood up straight with my chubby, little girl legs, corkscrew curls bobbing in the air, threw my arms up and pointed to the tag at the bottom of the little tiny flag, and said:

"But Grandad! This says 'Made in China'!!!"

Needless to say, I left him with nothing to do other than say thank you, sit down and send the children back to their seats. The reason I wrote this discourse about my childhood is to illustrate that patriotism is a wonderful thing. But, keep your eyes open. There are always those out there that wish to capitalize on the patriotic nature of people at times like these. Make sure you're donating to the right people.

And that's how I've always seen it...

~*Feisty Charli*~
November 7, 2001