James M. Redwine

Patriotism

Fireworks Forever

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Photo by Gary Dunn

On the Fourth of July my wife Peg, and our son Jim, along with his wife Gina and our granddaughter Elyse spent the long daylight hours anticipating the nighttime fireworks extravaganzas to be exploded by generous patriotic citizens. I have been amazed since I was a boy at how much effort, time and money ordinary Americans expend to celebrate our Independence. Whereas we boys spent our lawn-mowing money on cherry bombs and Roman candles, municipalities and businesses light up the heavens with spectacular displays of bursting pyrotechnics.

We younger celebrants might spend scant time ruminating on the glories of America’s military history, but we did join in by dueling with imaginative ways of blowing up almost every conceivable container. The resulting burnt fingers and blurred vision were just part of the experience. Of course, every now and then some fool would experiment by flushing cherry bombs down a commode or setting off grass fires with T.N.T.’s.

Regardless, everyone loves to see exploding displays that call forth our good fortune to have been born in the U.S.A. We may not long dwell on the true reason for the Fourth of July but we all drink deeply of the fireworks that commemorate it. That is what whet our anticipation as we endured the long daylight waiting to ooh and ahh over the upcoming displays.

That was why when Mother Nature let us know who really was in charge, we experienced profound disappointment. The huge, powerful storm that began just as darkness finally arrived almost drowned out our enthusiasm for sitting outside to see the explosive shows. However, as all Americans, we refused to give up on our yearly celebration, especially on this 250th year of Freedom.

And, in the Mexican restaurant where we had stopped to eat as we endured the wait for darkness outside, inside the lights went out when the lightening began to strike and the thunder roared. A group of Gulf and Iraq War veterans were trapped inside with us; they sat at the bar and faced the raging storm just as they did the wars. And when our son introduced himself as a fellow combat veteran, they started yelling and congratulating him as Toby Keith’s song Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue began to play loudly from one of the vet’s cell phones. The whole dining room sang along as Gina and Elyse led the music. If you know the lyrics, you do not need me to recite all of them. But the core message is:

♪ American girls and American guys
We’ll always stand up and salute
We’ll always recognize
When we see Old Glory flying
There’s a lot of men dead
So we can sleep in peace at night when we lay down our head. ♪

The whole restaurant of strangers spontaneously sang to America in the dark as the storm raged outside. The 4th of July emotion filled the house.

So, as sheets of rain and blowing winds did their best to dampen our spirits, we just got into the car and searched for others as reckless and determined as we were to see the great show. What we found were that adults were as determined as we boys used to be to celebrate our nation’s birthday, even in the face of flooded roads, falling trees and incessant lightning strikes. It became a game entered into voluntarily, if ignorantly, by virtually every person who could get a pyrotechnic device to light between acts of death-defying recklessness.

As I drove the five of us around in search of fireworks displays, we found countless descendants of our Founding Fathers who, also, refused to be intimidated just by a little thing like death and destruction. Now, Gentle Reader, I do not claim that good judgment prevailed, but I know we sure had a lot of fun and felt very patriotic.

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Lieutenant Colonel James D. Redwine

Independence Day Jeopardy

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Photo by Peg Redwine.

John Adams, our second president, and Thomas Jefferson, our third president, were great friends who became estranged for years but reconciled before they both died on July 4, 1826. Each was an attorney who championed individual liberty and civil rights. Adams believed the date of America’s birth was July 2, 1776, the date the Continental Congress voted for independence. Jefferson thought our birthday was July 4, 1776, the date the Declaration of Independence was signed. Both Founding Fathers declared we should celebrate our founding with special activities.

Jefferson was the first president to host a July 4 commemoration at the White House. Jefferson wrote about Independence Day, “For ourselves, let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollections of these rights, and an undiminished devotion to them.”

Adams sent a letter to his wife Abigail on July 3, 1776 in which he declaimed:

“I am apt to believe that it (July 2, 1776) will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival.

…

It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews (shows), Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illumination from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.”

My family, and most likely yours too Gentle Reader, have carried out these patriotic demands for as long as we have been fortunate enough to do so. For more than the past twenty years my family has gathered around July 4 and reveled in the wonder of the United States of America by engaging in a hotly contested Independence Jeopardy game.

Photo by Peg Redwine

This year our son Jim portrayed Benjamin Franklin, my nephews Dennis and David Redwine, donned the colonial frocks of Uncle Sam and George Washington and teams of relatives vied to earn the Independence Day Jeopardy championship. The competition was fierce and only barbeque and copious desserts could assuage those who came in out of first.

It is always good to get our large and close-knit family together, especially over a hotly contested game of colonial history. It is of special meaning in our current atmosphere of political upheaval to remind ourselves what truly matters. So, happy birthday to all of us whether you agree with Adams or Jefferson or choose some other special time around our founding in the first week of July, 1776.

The Founders

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Reminder at a coffee shop in Batumi, Georgia

When our son, Jim, was stationed with the U.S. Army in Germany he visited the old Soviet Union just before the collapse of the Berlin Wall in 1989. He told us the very few other Americans he saw in what became modern Russia were easy to spot; they were the only ones smiling. I noticed that same phenomenon among the public when I worked for a couple of weeks in the Republic of Ukraine in 2000. Then when Peg and I spent a week working in Russia in 2003 we noted everyone but the two of us wore dark clothes and dark expressions.

Our recent eight-month experience working with the judiciary in the Republic of Georgia, once part of the old Soviet Union and bordering Russia, reinforced these impressions of uncertainty given out by the Georgian people who are ostensibly in a now free and democratic country; however, they appeared to us to be hedging their bets due to fear of their Russian neighbor.

Peg and I could not have been treated any more courteously than we were by our new Georgian friends who were generous and great fun to live and work among. We had a marvelous experience and learned a great deal. One thing we already knew, but had not fully appreciated until sharing with the Georgians whose small country is across the Black Sea from Ukraine, was how fortunate we are as Americans to not only be free but to feel free.

The people of Georgia were open and friendly with us whether at court, our other meeting places or on the streets. We were fully accepted, often objects of curiosity and were constantly asked, “How are things done in America?” You see, Gentle American Reader, Russia occupies 20% of the “Republic” of Georgia and is a constantly looming presence, at least mentally, in most Georgian psyches. Freedom there is established by law but is quite uneasy. The friendliness and good will of the countless Georgian citizens we worked and socialized with was unforced and generous. However, our Georgian acquaintances usually found an opportunity to express their good will and appreciation toward America and their almost universal desire to come here. It was reassuring and gratifying to experience how other people respected our home country.

I guess it is sort of like Mark Twain’s epiphany, “When I was a teenager, I could not believe how ignorant my father was, but by the time I turned 21 I was amazed at how much the old man had learned.” In much the same manner, Peg and I were brought to fully appreciate living in a truly free country. It is one thing to be physically in a country called a democracy, and it is an entirely different feeling to live in America where, as Lee Greenwood sings, “I am proud to be an American where at least I know I’m free.”

The dreams and aspirations of our new Georgian friends also affected our understanding of people risking their lives and sacrificing everything to get to America, you know, as many of our ancestors did. Even native-born Americans such as Peg and I owe huge debts to the brilliance and courage of many immigrants and their progeny who helped make these United States, as Katherine Lee Bates and Samuel A. Ward wrote in America the Beautiful, “Oh beautiful for pilgrim feet whose stern impassioned stress, a thoroughfare for freedom beat across the wilderness.”

Or as Frances Williams and Marjorie Elliot in their song Hymn to America, Let There Be Music called for, an America where, “May kindness and forbearance make this land a joyous place, where each man feels a brotherhood, unmarred by creed or race.” We recognize our country’s imperfections and sins of the past and present. But, America’s beacon of freedom expiates many of our failings. And, once one leaves America she or he understands why regardless of our shortcomings, as Neil Diamond sings, “From all across the world they’re coming to America.” Why? Because, “They only want to be free.”

Gentle Reader, haven’t you often wished you could travel back in time to when our country was founded? Wouldn’t it be something special to meet and talk with such dreamers, heroes and revolutionaries as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton and others? Perhaps we could have even joined in that difficult and dangerous struggle for freedom that now we can only read about, but thanks to them and others, we enjoy every day. Of course, who knows if we would have dared join in that revolt against Great Britain, the most powerful nation on earth in the 1700’s. And if we had lived then and had shown the courage of our Forefathers, we as they might have been blind to the hypocrisy and irony of fighting for our own freedom as we denied Native Americans, Blacks and women theirs. Heroes do not have to be perfect to strive for, “[A] more perfect union.”

Many of our Georgian friends are publicly standing up to a large portion of their government that has chosen to abide by Russia’s infiltration into Georgia. It takes courage to risk freedom to seek freedom. A large portion of the Georgian government is sympathetic to Russia while the majority of the citizens yearn for a true freedom that does not require a subtle fealty to what remains of the old Soviet Union.

Peg and I were impressed by the bravery of our Georgian friends and, especially, the boldness of the women. It reminded us of what it might have been like to know Martha Washington, Martha Jefferson, Abigail Adams, Dolly Madison and Eliza Hamilton. You know, our Founding Mothers, without whom we in America might well be the Georgians of today, “Yearning to be breathe free.” I will not name our courageous Georgian friends, both women and men, as the penalties for seeking a true democracy may well be severe. But I do admire their willingness to risk all for what our Founders risked for us. When Peg and I finally returned to Osage County, Oklahoma, U.S.A. we found ourselves gratefully humming that song by Woody Guthrie about America’s birthright, This Land Is Your Land. Apparently even depression era America felt good as long as it was free; freedom renders hardships bearable.

Our time working abroad showed Peg and me we had to leave America to truly appreciate what it might feel like to lose it. We are products of the 1960’s and have long recognized and often pointed out the U.S.A. is not perfect. But no place is and it sure beats all the alternatives we have seen. As for our Georgian friends, many of them are concerned that Russia will not respect Georgia’s 8,000 years of history and tradition and will seek to control the remaining 80% of that beautiful but small and vulnerable country.

That the concerns of numerous of our Georgian friends are well justified has been recently validated by the ruling political power’s attempt to push through two Russian influenced statutes that sought to prohibit and punish “foreign influence.” Due to strong public protests that some of our Georgian colleagues joined, the ruling party withdrew the bills, for now. However, under these proposed draconian laws, as Americans sent to Georgia to help Georgia’s judges seek more independence, Peg and I might well have come under scrutiny for our actions since our mission was fully funded by the United States Agency for International Development, the American Bar Association and the East-West Management Institute, all of which could be classified by Russia or the Georgian Parliament as “foreign influencers.” Judicial Independence is not a goal of Georgia’s controlling political party. Peg and I are glad to be home but are concerned about our Georgian friends as there is still much important and difficult work to be done and we hope America continues to “influence” our friends’ courageous efforts to do it.

Mom Knows Best

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Tom Nichols is a staff writer for The Atlantic magazine. In his opinion piece of August 15, 2022, Nichols asserted the United States is living in a “new era of political violence.” Nichols compared our current political climate to America’s Civil War and declared:

“Compared with the bizarre ideas and half-baked wackiness that now infest American political life, the arguments between the North and the South look like a deep treatise on government.”

Of course, Nichols, as all of us do, meant those ideas he disagreed with. He wrote his article as a warning against “the random threats and unpredictable dangers from people among us who spend too much time watching television and plunging down internet rabbit holes.”

While I believe Nichols falls victim to the kind of incitement to political violence he warns the rest of us to avoid, I agree with him that much of our poisonous political atmosphere is both created and exacerbated by “instigators who will inflame them from the safety of a television or radio studio.”

When I try to glean news from Facebook, MSNBC, CNN, FOX News and even sometimes NPR and the regular commercial news outlets, I spend a lot of my time hearing the echo of my Mother’s sage advice, “If you can’t say something nice about somebody, don’t say anything at all.”

In our current political discourse it seems almost every discussion has to first set forth the commentator’s pro or anti Trump diatribe then morph into the “real news.”  I keep trying, with little success, to block out the opening statements as I wait for any significant new facts.

This atmosphere of dueling slings and arrows, some of which are more than mere rhetoric, is the “political violence” Nichols refers to. People committing random acts of physical violence against complete strangers for no reason other than to attempt to give some meaning to their uninteresting lives. And as many of us have suffered through the discomfort, or worse, of political conversations with our friends and family these last few years, it is not just random strangers who have accosted one another with Nichols’ “New Era of Political Violence”. Long-time friendships and relationships have often suffered due to competing political views.

A large contributor to the current “Era of Bad Feeling” is the tendency to classify those who do not share our political views as holding “half-baked” or “wacky” ideas because, in Nichols’ view, they suffer from “a generalized paranoia that dark forces are manipulating their lives.” The sense I get from our current political in-fighting reminds me of the McCarthy Era from the 1950’s when Senator Joe McCarthy held hearings that ruined countless lives with accusations of Communistic leanings among American citizens. Sure, eventually we, as a democracy, saw through the “Red Scare” but it was too late to save many good citizens.

It feels to me now as those Red Baiting times felt. We seem to go immediately to anger when the “other side” speaks its views. Perhaps we could learn from our history instead of repeating it. As Mom would have said, “Just because someone sees things from their viewpoint doesn’t make them wrong. And just because someone else voices an opinion opposed to ours doesn’t mean they are bad.” It kind of goes back to that old advice, “If it ain’t good, don’t say it.”

That does not apply to real news, only personal character assassination. We need our democracy to have unfettered access to information about many subjects. That is, we need facts to make good decisions. What we do not need is vituperative personal attacks masquerading as evidence.

Memorial Day

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My earliest memories of Memorial Day involved hot cemeteries where all the adult women spent a great deal of time loudly hushing all the children and the few men in attendance furtively smoked cigarettes while shifting from foot to foot. Any attempt by me or my brother, Philip, to chase butterflies or engage in horseplay was met with stern stares and an occasional knock on the head or a swat on the tail.

Mother had three brothers and one sister who had served in the Army in WWII and Mom observed the service of all veterans solemnly and reverently; she demanded her children properly learn the ritual. Our role was to honor the dead soldiers and show gratitude to those veterans who were still with us.

Memorial Day has slowly metamorphosized from a national day of honoring veterans to a general recognition of all who have passed on. And Mother and her mother and their mainly female friends and relatives saw their duty to include the graves of deceased loved ones in various cemeteries in divergent locales. Mom would load all four of us kids and bunches of freshly cut ferns and flowers into a black Ford without air conditioning and without a thought on her part of a cold pop or an ice cream cone for us. She would say that was scant penance on our part to repay the sacrifice of our service people and their families.

I do not know how many veterans’ gravesites Mom dragged me to before I joined the Air Force myself during the Viet Nam War. I did not get sent to Viet Nam but several of my childhood friends did. One of them, twenty-two-year-old Gary Malone, went twice but he only came back once. That changed my understanding of Mom’s dedication to Decoration Day. I may be generally obtuse but I no longer needed a pointed stare, a tap on the head or a kick in the behind to appreciate Memorial Day. I sure wish Gary were here so I could tell him but his veteran’s memorial marker is close to my Mom and Dad in the local cemetery so I can, at least, salute Gary as I visit the folks on Decoration Day. I now get it; as always, Mother knew best.

Yea! Football Is Back!

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“The crisp autumn air. The dry brown grass. Sweaty pads and the exhilaration of combat without weapons. The kind of battle where one can experience the thrill of having been shot at and missed without even being shot at. Football. Ersatz war. Clashes of pride, power and cunning.”

Echoes Of Our Ancestors: The Secret Game, p. vii

James M. Redwine

Baseball may be America’s Pastime but football is America’s Passion. The only thing more endemic to the American psyche than football is politics and I am sick of politics. If, “politics ain’t bean bag”, it ought to be. Any sporting event from ballet to boxing is healthier for our country than political conventions and cable news. Heck, even a good old-fashioned fist fight often results in life-long friendship versus contemporary political campaigns in which social media is used much as small pox was allegedly used against Native Americans by the British colonial soldiers in 1763.

The difference between sporting contests of all types and modern national politics is glaring. When I think back to those times my erstwhile adversaries became my current friends via a skirmish over some forgotten controversy, I long for those days. My friends and I spent no time accusing one another of being a liar or a murderer or even a traitor to our country. We would just drop our baseball gloves or kick our opponent’s marbles out of the way and start the shoving process. Every now and then we would even throw a punch. I will not name those who bloodied my nose or tore off my T shirts but we buried our hypothetical hatchets immediately after each fray. Our politicians and news anchors could learn something.

Another thing we learn from sports versus politics is that the pain of physical injuries almost always goes away whereas the sickness of false comments can grow fatal to our body politic. There is something liberating from a sweaty fight or a sweaty game. But often permanent harm results from accusations of venality and planted stories of misdeeds.

Anyway, I am glad football and other games are coming back and I hope we will soon be able to engage in them and/or enjoy watching them in good health. I leave it up to each community and every individual to decide whether they feel comfortable participating in or watching in person any sporting event. Peg and I certainly want the right and ability to decide such highly personal matters for ourselves and we will afford the same right to others. However, the lessons from sports are easily learned and, unlike high school Algebra, one will always remember them. In fact, as I think of the fist fights and sporting contests I engaged in it now seems to me I never lost and I have gotten a lot faster, stronger and more talented as the years have transpired.