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| I AM THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA I am the flag of the United States of America. My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. I stand watch in America's halls of justice. I fly majestically over institutions of learning. I stand guard with power in the world. Look up ... and see me. I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. I stand for freedom. I am confident. I am arrogant. I am proud. When I am flown with my fellow banners, my head is a little higher, my colors a little truer. I bow to no one, but God Almighty. I am recognized all over the world. I am worshipped - I am saluted. I am loved - I am revered. I am respected - and I am feared. I have fought in every battle of every war for more then 200 years. I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appamatox. I was there at San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy, Guam. Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me, I was there. I led my troops, I was dirty, battleworn and tired, but my soldiers cheered me And I was proud. I have been burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free. It does not hurt, for I am invincible. I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country. And when it's by those whom I've served in battle - it hurts. But I shall overcome - for I am strong. I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon. I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours. But my finest hours are yet to come. When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the battlefield, When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier, Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent at the grave of their fallen son or daughter, I am proud. MY NAME IS OLD GLORY LONG MAY I WAVE. DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN LONG MAY I WAVE PLEASE FORWARD MY MESSAGE TO ALL WHO STILL LOVE AND RESPECT ME, THAT I MAY FLY PROUDLY FOR ANOTHER TWO HUNDRED YEARS. |
| "THAT RAGGED OLD FLAG" (Author Unknown) |
| I walked through a county courthouse square. On a park bench an old man was sitting there. I said, "Your old Court House is kinda run down." He said, "No, it will do for our little town." I said, "Your old flag Pole is leaning a little bit. And that's a ragged old Flag you've got hanging on it." He said, "Have a seat," and I sat down "Is the first time that you've been to our little town?" "Well," he said, "I don't like to brag, But we're kinda proud of that ragged old Flag. |
| You see, we got a little hole in the Flag there, When Washington took it across the Delaware. And it got powder burns, the night Francis Scott Key, Sat watching it, writing 'Oh, Say, Can You See.' |
| And it got a bad rip at New Orleans, When Packingham and Jackson took it to the scene And, it almost fell at the Alamo beside the Texas Flag But she waved on through She got cut with a sword at Chancerville, And she got cut again at Shilo Hill There was Robert E. Lee, Bouregard and Bragg The South wind blew hard on that Old Ragged Flag On Flanders Field in World War One She got a big hole from a Bertha Gun She turned BLOOD RED World War Two, And she hung limp and low a time or two. She was in Korea and Vietnam She went from our ships upon the briny foam. |
| Now they've about quit waving her back here at home In our good land she's been abused, She's been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused And the Government for which she stands Is scandalized through out the land. She's getting threadbare and she's wearing thin, But, she's in good shape for the shape she's in, Because she's been through the fire before, I believe she can take a whole lot more. |
| So we raise her up every morning, and we Take her down every night, We don't let her touch the ground, and we fold her up right. |
| On second thought, I DO LIKE TO BRAG, |
| BECAUSE I'M MIGHTY PROUD OF THAT RAGGED OLD FLAG! |
| WHAT IS A VET? Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity. Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet just by looking. What is a vet? He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel. He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel. She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang. He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL. He is the TRADOC drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into soldiers, and teaching them to watch each other's backs. He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand. He is the career logistician who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by. He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep. He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come. He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs. He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known. So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded. Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU". Remember November 11th is Veterans Day "It is the soldier, not the reporter, Who has given us freedom of the press. It is the soldier not the poet, Who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier, Who salutes the flag, Who serves beneath the flag, And whose coffin is draped by the flag, Who allows the protester to burn the flag." Father Denis Edward O'Brien USMC There is no FAIR, there is no FREE and there is no EASY. You never get what you don't pay for -- and money is seldom the payment. |