Our Flag Was STill There

“The price of liberty is eternal vigilance.” Patrick Henry

The card simply read, “Happy Birthday, America…for 241 years old, you’re looking pretty good.”

Inside was a small scroll. On it read these words:


Dear America:

My, how you have grown. From a few stout souls to what, over 315 million now? My plan seems to be working, even though I continue to keep my fingers crossed.

Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long, given the red and blue political divisions. You seem to have another civil war seething inside. It’s confusing to me. But I have not abandoned you yet, although that thought has occurred to me more than once.

Your body is showing the strains of wear. It’s hard to recognize you from your baby pictures. Lesser mortals and countries would have folded their tents and ridden off on their camels. But not you. You’re of hearty stock, chiseled by conflict, raw-boned, with a tough hide and courage of steel. Perseverance is your nature. A national Spirit lives within you. It’s my gift.

You were born of a Higher Power for a Higher Purpose…Liberty. For that worthy cause you have strived. You were born by the shedding of blood, not by cunning words crafted from philosophical dictates. You were given a Manifest Destiny, a calling to create something new…a new nation, a nation under God, whose cornerstone is Freedom. That Divine Destiny still lives within you.

Freedom costs. Every generation must earn it. The blood of your patriots, your martyrs, your fearless founding fathers cries from their graves even today. Their collective hearts still beat for freedom beneath your feet as you walk the dust and dirt of battlefields everywhere…from Bunker Hill to Ft. Washington, from Atlanta to Gettysburg, from Europe to Viet Nam, from Korea to Iraq.

America, your soil is stained from 384 battles in a Civil War waged to preserve this Grand Vision of a United States. Some 625,000 of your countrymen perished in this endeavor. The wound remains fresh, the scar permanent.

Lately cracks are eroding your former staunch resolve. Ice is forming in your soul. The work ethic once instilled in you is flagging. Ease and prosperity sap your strength. You’re getting soft, fat and satisfied. Idleness is rewarded; creativity punished. Your taxes and your laws are balls and chains. You sing songs with lines, “God shed His grace on thee,” but you ignore ‘grace’ and enact laws and tolls that load your citizens with burdens grievous to be borne.

America, allow me to remind you of this wisdom, “When the will fails, so do the hands, and you live at the expense of life.”

Grab yourself by the neck and shake off the innate laziness that so easily besets you. Stir up the vision and determination that sustains your life. There is no free lunch here. Your destiny is not written by lines in the palms of your hands but in the toil and sweat of your collective efforts. These are the marks of your greatness.

July 4, 1776 commemorates the birth of America, something new and bold, a noble experiment in the belief that all men are created with inalienable rights: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Was it an illusion? No! From the compost pile of these ideals emerged your great nation.

Will you remain great? Will you embrace this gift of Freedom, preserve its heritage, protect it and pass it on? Or will the grit of discontent grind away the grace you have been given? Will the flag still be there for the next generation? The choice is before you every day...Yes or No.

But for now, let’s celebrate your birthday. So strike up the bands, march in parades, grill up the hot dogs, slice up the watermelons, scoop up the ice cream, break out the beer and crown it all with traditional fireworks. Have fun!

You are a beacon of light to nations. As your fireworks explode and light the night’s darkness, then sing praises for your flag that’s still flying there…flying over the Land of the Free!

Happy Birthday, America
from The Spirit of Freedom.


Bud Hearn
June 30, 2017

It Is What It Is

Chance has a way of untangling many issues that wisdom left dangling.

**********

Churchill took his best shot at defining Russia: “It’s a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.” Insightful, but leaves us hanging.

Al Franken, a comedian and U.S. Senator, (is there a difference?) came closer to a sort of wisdom when quipping about the Trumpian riddle: “It is what it is.” Crude, but close.

Cognitive thought is too shallow to examine enigmatic riddles and explain them rationally. Mostly we just open our palms, shrug our shoulders and utter a submissive whisper: ‘It is what it is.’ What a relief. No discussions, no rebuttals, no conflicts. An easy out.

Life’s riddles continue to stump philosophers, ascetics and not a few politicians and preachers. Some things remain permanent mysteries. Still, we’re a culture consumed with closing circles, tidying things up with answers and leaving no unsolved, hanging chads. Let’s face it: What better catch-all phrase to bring closure than, ‘It is what it is?’

Poetry, in its brevity, is sometimes superior to prose in slicing up dilemmas, or in creating them. So, for your enlightenment, the Weakly Post’s think tank presents its poetic solution of living among life’s deepest secrets.


It is what it is

‘It is what it is’ isn’t hard to recall
When a reply is required that answers it all.
Without any need or effort to think,
You can toss it right out as quick as a wink.

People will think you’re a genius profound,
And to utter such wisdom you’re sure to astound.
‘Cause both the simple and brilliant proclaim,
There’re just some things that can’t be explained.

It matters not if you’re dumb or you’re smart,
Just whisper these words and the waters will part.

Just what ‘it’ is it is hard to say,
‘It is what it is,’ there’s no other way.
Is ‘it’ maybe this, or could ‘it’ be that?
It really won’t matter, one tit or one tat.

‘It’ is a catch-all for any context,
Just spit ‘it’ out and great minds you’ll vex.
They’ll think that Wisdom is your Pedigree
And if you’re a Charlatan you can charge a big fee.

For Pretense pays big to escape the mundane,
Even for carnival-like legerdemain.

The Crux of the phrase is what ‘is’ really is.
And a former Arkansan had to explain away his.
And someday you may have a reason to try
To cloak your own ‘is’ with a creative lie.

Now Plato said that there ‘is’ no past,
That nothing that’s made can last.
The claim that he makes is only his
That ‘it is’ eternally ‘is.’

But ‘it is what it is’ gives substance and proof,
Of its value to deflect with a hyperbolic spoof.
When all has been said it’s impossible to say
‘Bout the multiple uses of this adaptable cliché.

So when Life has riddles you can’t figure out,
Don’t moan and complain what it’s all about.
The answer will come, for Someone will say,
“It is what it is, and it’s better My way.”

Sir Winston was close to the perfect explanation, but his equation didn’t quite close. Even Newton, with his Second Law of Thermodynamics on Quantum Theory couldn’t explain why things fall apart, or how to unscramble just one egg. Some things defy solution.

We can dig all we want for answers in the Google landfill of arcana, but it’s just simpler to kick back and enjoy the ride. After all, in the final consensus, ‘it is what it is.’ What more needs saying?

Res ipsa loquitur…the thing speaks for itself. Let it.



Bud Hearn
June 16, 2017