On the Flag ….

I would never burn an American flag. It represents the country I loved, the country in which I lived, the country more than sixteen of my direct bloodline ancestors battled to create, the country I hope to live in once again, God willing that I live long enough. 

Fifty Star - Old Glory

With sadness, some tears, and a prayer to the brave ones who risked all they had to create the America I have known all my life, I took Old Glory down from her place of honor in front of my house, folded her carefully, and stored her in a drawer with a prayer that she could someday be flown again with pride. For the first time in more than fifty years, there is no fifty-star version of Old Glory gracing my home. It is not possible to pledge allegiance to the Republic for which it stands, for in reality that Republic itself no longer stands. Both the flag and the Union have been hijacked by people who have no love for them.

Government ‘of the people, by the people, for the people’ has perished. The country Old Glory represents no longer exists. In a bloodless revolution and civil coup, under the guise of a constitutionally run election, a minority of my countrymen voted to become the land of the oppressed and the home of tyranny once again. I am far too old to bear arms to bring it back. I mourn the loss of my freedom, and my pride in America. I live in hopes that my grandchildren will see restored the country to which they were born, for which their own ancestors shed blood to give birth. I have only this means to protest the injustice of it all. 

In the place of Old Glory, on my house now hangs the Grand Union flag, also known as the Continental flag. It was the first flag of the united American colonies. It reminds me that once upon a time a few brave men believed so deeply in the human right of self-determination that they raised an army of civilian soldiers and defeated the strongest military force on the planet to achieve their goals, a nation based on the ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

Grand Union (Continental) Flag
The first flag of the united colonies

Now the same country they founded with their blood has the strongest fighting forces in the world; and those forces can no longer serve to protect the flag, the citizens, and the ideals of the founders, because the country for which the flag stood no longer exists. The modern soldiers are sworn to protect and answer to a fascist tyrant who shames the hearts of the patriots of the American Revolution, and those descended from them. They are now the toy soldiers in the toy box of a narcissistic megalomaniac and the Nazi pretender who sits at his right hand.

That first American flag, the Continental flag, will be a daily reminder of what I have lost, and that my country is in the tiny hands of a dangerous child-demagogue. That my course must be daily resistance. That these states must become united once more. There are only stripes to count the colonies - there are no stars representing states. It represents new beginnings. 

Beneath the Grand Union flag on my flag pole, flies the Bennington Battle Flag, a reminder that dissent is an honorable path and that the heirs of the Revolution know how good intentions and grit can win over tyranny. That civil disobedience is a heritage to be embraced. That protesting a dishonorable man by removing an honored symbol from representing what little he stands for – is just.

The Bennington Flag - commemorating the Battle of Bennington

This time around, the country can only be saved by an army of lawyers and sturdy political leaders, rather than by an army of soldiers. The soldiers are now committed to decidedly non-American tasks and the permanent destruction of that which centuries of bloodshed built. If you can only hope to be as good as your leader, then the bar is set very low for you now.

19th century immigration gave us the famine Irish. They came in masses, adopted the ideals of our Democracy, worked, and proudly served to protect the country which offered protection to them and their families. So, perhaps it was 20th century European immigration that led to the downfall of the Republic for which Old Glory stood.

Perhaps, we who carry the bloodlines of the Founders and the immigrant Irish were too compassionate, too welcoming to the poor, the hungry, and the oppressed refugees from the European autocratic, fascist regimes. But, we lived in the shadow of those good, ethical, and humble patriot ancestors and their high ideals. And we honored the example of those loyal Irish who built and expanded their adopted nation, and served her well in war. We just couldn’t close our doors to the European refugee.

Thus, many of our citizenry today have no knowledge of the country’s founding principles, no respect for her successful growth and expansion, no love for her soldiers. Therefore, they have no loyalty to the foundation on which the country was built. 

Perhaps immigration reform should have begun long before the First World War. Perhaps we should have refused the poor, displaced immigrants from Europe who had no vested interest in democracy, but merely sought escape from something ‘worse’. Clearly a few of their descendants have no respect for ideals on which their own European ancestors’ adopted nation was born and grew. Those powerful few have morphed back to their own ancestral amoral roots: hate for the masses, and disdain for equality, disrespect for anyone not like themselves. We made them welcome, and their heirs now seek to destroy us.

They will have us return to a society ruled by wealthy neo-kings and princes, and run into the ground on the backs of the poor. Yes, the very things their immigrant forebears sought to escape are now the reality of our daily American lives in what once was an envied democratic constitutional republic. Where the famine Irish fully adopted their new country and its total history and heritage, some later arrivals from Europe apparently did not.

It is not an exaggeration to think I won’t live to see the United States become whole and free again … I am old; I am poor; I am sick; and in a Nazi America, medical care will be for the wealthy and those who decide what is best for us lesser folk – hard work, low wages, poverty and an early death – especially for the most useless among us, the women and children. 

And we will be without a military defense sworn to uphold America’s Constitution – a force answering to a Commander whose goal is to destroy it.

I am an American by birth, and by birthright, and my country has been taken from me by a group of avaricious curmudgeonly elderly rich men, most of whom are vastly overweight and over-indulged. With any luck, their lavish lifestyles and poor diets will catch up with a few of them before their neglect catches up with me. I will not mourn the passing of a single one of them.

Old Glory will rest in the bottom of a drawer, along with the off-season clothes, in hopes that her season will come around again, hopefully sooner than later. I will look in on her often, and cry a little for her exile. And I will pray that the day will come when those who claim to defend her will be able to defend again all that for which she once proudly stood. God, I miss her.

MRP

[Edited 5 Jan 2017 to remove references to the flag of Washington's Raiders, An Appeal to Heaven - the flag I had planned to fly during our national dictatorship. That flag has been misappropriated by radical white supremacists of allegedly evangelical christian groups, and is used to represent their misanthropic ideals. I will burn mine.]

On Respect is Due for the Office, Not Always for the Occupant

When you meet a soldier wearing the uniform of the Armed Forces of the United States, do you think you must automatically respect him or her? No. You respect the uniform. You respect his/her service to our country, but as a person -- has the man or woman inside the uniform earned your respect? At best, that's a neutral. They have not gained or lost your respect yet. The jury is out. Unless you knew and respected the person before the uniform was added, or had good reason to respect them for their personal values and attributes.

If you see them helping an old couple load groceries? They have earned a measure of your respect. If you see them being rude to an old couple in a checkout line? Well, they are less of a person in your eyes, and less worthy of any personal respect from you. You are a little sad that such a person is allowed the honor of wearing the uniform. Same goes for the police, or any civil authority. It's the uniform that deserves respect, the person within must earn it. Same for clergy - many a liturgical vestment has clothed an evil soul.

After World War II, I heard my mother and her sister discussing several men they were acquainted with from the Newport Naval Base, men who had married their old friends. Newport was where the Navy mass-produced junior officers for that war. They were called the '90-day-wonders'. On two of the men, they agreed "They were only gentlemen by act of Congress, and only an act of Congress could have made them any kind of gentleman."


Similarly, respect for the Office of President of the United States is a very different animal from respect for the person who occupies the office.

When I turned 21, Lyndon Johnson occupied the Office of President. I never had a whit of respect for the man. He wasn't my president, he didn't represent anything that I believed in, but he was the president of my country. I made it through each day by ignoring him, consoled by the thought that Barry Goldwater would have been so much, much worse. But - LBJ was the very image of my father, so I had reason to avoid even looking at a man whose morals and ideals, such as they were, differed so greatly from the father I knew and respected. I was relieved he wouldn't seek his rightful second term.

In 1968, I was twenty-three. In a longing for a return to Camelot, I would have voted for Robert Kennedy, but he was murdered - so I voted for Hubert Humphrey, a man I could respect on a personal level. A gentleman. And I got Nixon. I never respected Mr. Nixon. He should never have been Commander in Chief. By accepting that role, he turned his back on his Quaker faith. If you can't bear arms, you shouldn't lead people who do. It reeks of hypocrisy. Just my opinion.

In 1972, I voted for George McGovern because Mr. Nixon was such an anathema. McGovern was a respectful gentleman, so I respected him. But, I got Nixon again. Fortunately, Mr. Nixon's pride went before his fall. When it was all sorted out, we had Gerry Ford - and I respected him. He was a very respectable man. And he was a gentleman. I was beyond delighted with Nixon's disgrace.

In 1976, I voted for Gerry Ford, but I got Jimmy Carter. Mr. Carter proved from the outset to be a principled man - and I respected him for it. As far as respect goes, that election would have been a win-win for me anyway. Two intelligent, well-spoken gentlemen.

In 1980, I voted for Mr. Carter. I got Ronald Reagan. I am still ambivalent about Ronnie. Neither respect nor disrespect. A lot like Ivory Snow - just floats around in the bath tub doing -- not much. I can't think of a solitary thing I liked or disliked about him. Except those dumb 'Reganomics'. Was he ever an embarrassment? No. Was he a gentleman? Definitely.

In 1984, I voted for Walter Mondale. I got Ronald Reagan again. Either way, for the next four years I was doomed to ambivalence about either Ronnie or Walter. What's to respect or disrespect about either of them? Just guys sitting in a chair, planning their libraries. Gentlemen, yes. Effective leaders, not so much.

In 1988, I voted for Michael Dukakis because he was my state governor, and I desperately wanted him out of the Commonwealth and into anywhere-else-like-Washington. I wanted to share the misery with the whole country, and get a new governor in the process. I knew it was not a winning proposition. I got G. H. W. Bush. I respected Old George. He is a really good man. He is a gentleman. He was a leader. He worked to give me that 'kinder, gentler nation'. I would have voted for him had I not hoped to be rid of Mike Dukakis.

In 1992, I voted for Ross Perot. He had some terrific ideas. I didn't expect him to win - but he was my 'Bernie Sanders'. So, I got what I deserved for that. I got Bill Clinton. Another bar of Ivory Soap. Another four years of ambivalence. No respect. No disrespect either. Just four years of blah.

In 1996, I voted for Robert Dole - a man I could respect, with a dynamite wife to go with him. I got Bill Clinton again. You see a pattern here? I'm looking for gracious, intelligent, committed leaders. I'm not getting that. More Clinton Ivory Snow. More annoying blah on the evening news. (Frankly, I ignored all the sex stuff. Not my business what anyone does behind closed doors or in someone else's marriage. Much ado about nothing. They do what they have to do to get through the day.)

In 2000, I voted for Al Gore. I respected him before then; I respect him today. He won, but I got the G.W. Bush disaster forced on me. Him, W., I never respected until he retired and became an artist. As an artist, I respect him. He is a much better man out of government. As a president, he was useless, but he was always a gentleman, I'll give him that. Papa and Mama Bush raised those boys well.

In 2004, John Kerry was the better man. I could respect him. But - there was that whole thing about not changing horses in mid-stream vote going on. That left me with the useless shrub again. Four years of enduring governmental stupidity. Respect? Nah! Not until he took up painting. Then I saw a respectable man emerge.

In 2008, I voted for Barack Obama just to change things up. I respected both him and John McCain - but god I was sick to death of Georgie Boy, plus I thought Mr. McCain would more effective remaining in Congress. He had seniority there. He was good at that. He probably deserved the promotion, but I liked his record in Congress.

In 2012, I was caught between two respectable men. I voted for Romney. I got Barack again - but either man was a gentleman. Neither would embarrass my country. I respected both of them as gentlemen.

In 2016, Donald John Trump was a candidate I could not (and will not ever) respect. He is the antithesis of everything I find respectable in a man. Everything. He is not a gentleman. He is not honorable. He is in every way despicable. Most of all, he's not a gentleman (bears repeating, doesn't it?). A churlish boor. Too old to be taught any manners (as in teaching old dogs new tricks).
     Any port in a storm. I simply voted against the Ugly American, the Boorish Orange Nightmare. As with Mr. Gore, Donnie lost - but won anyway.
     As my Irish grandmother used to say often enough "You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." By the time he is on the streets again, he'll be too old to become an artist. He'll never be Manhattan's Norman Rockwell. And there is little chance he will ever redeem himself - his vocabulary and attitude are too offensive. He's too old to be retrained.

Now, I will try to ignore Donnie John for the next four years, hoping he will go the way of the despicable Mr. Nixon - and leave a likable gentleman like a Gerry Ford clone in his place. Too much hoping going on there, I know. But miracles do happen.

There is no requirement that anyone respect the occupant of the Oval Office, just the Office of the President itself. Like there is no obligation to respect the wearer of the uniform, just the uniform itself. You salute the uniform, not necessarily the man or woman within. You respect the Office of the President, there is no obligation to respect the occupant.

At my age, I hope to get one, maybe two, more rounds of this 'electing a president' thing. I'll let you know if I ever get it right.

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MRP

On A Proposal for Reconciliation - Deconstruction

This is a proposal to get us out of this godawful government mess.
It’s simple, really. We go back to 1868-1870, and repeal everything that had to do with Reconstruction. I am sorry, Cousin Abe, but you got this one wrong – the Confederacy never did come to terms with Reconstruction; they never even stopped fighting that war. Now look where we’ve landed. That one whole unified country thing you proposed at Gettysburg, well it’s just not working. For the good of the Republic, we need to let them go.

Confederate States: You get your flag back. Your real flag, not the gaudy Virginia Battle Flag. We take eleven stars off of ours. Yes. Eleven. Sure, I know you have thirteen stars on your flag, but there were only eleven Confederate States. You counted on Kentucky and Missouri to make up your thirteen, didn’t you? But they didn't see it your way. Or maybe you were just early adopters of Common Core Math. Either way, you get your thirteen stars and eleven states.

Flag of the Confederate States

Revival of the 39 states US Flag

Remember that the southern tip of the Delmarva Peninsula? That whole area around Fort Monroe? That was always in Union hands, and so we’re keeping it. Fair is fair. We may have to rename the peninsula ‘Delmar’. But maybe not – it might be fun to taunt you with it. Maryland might be happy to take custody. Or it can become a National Reservation. Doesn’t matter. The point is we keep it – meaning there will be a border checkpoint at our end of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. You are responsible for securing the other end. People who don’t pass muster at one end or the other – maybe they can set up refugee colonies on the islands in the bay.

What’s in it for the Confederate States?

Well, you get all military installations in your territory with some flip-flopping of personnel who are still sworn to our US Constitution. Re-manning them with trained soldiers, sailors, and airmen won’t be complicated when our new Immigration and Naturalizion laws are set in place (see the INS section further on). You get your Capital back in Richmond. You get your memorabilia back from our National Archives. You get all your sitting Congressmen (and Women!) back in Richmond, too. Trust me, it will be as if Reconstruction never happened, except for the pesky 'women' issue. And you will keep all the infrastructure improvements the United States Government has made in your states since then. Not too shabby. You just have to figure out a way to manage them. Easy-peasy.

You have your share of automobile manufacturing – you can drive Beemers and Toyotas of every ilk. And GMC’s. And Cadillacs. You’ll still have some good SUVs if GM can afford to do business in your country when our trade deals are negotiated. If you want to import a Ford truck, or a Chevy truck, well, we’re willing to work out a trade agreement with you so Uncle Joe in Maryland can have his new Toyota.

Don’t forget that you keep NASCAR. All those haulers and teams will have to pass through border checks to get to United States tracks. You keep Disney World, too, and all those kiddy/geezer places around Orlando and Tampa. You’ll have to step up your Customs at your international airports if you want to keep those crowds and dollars coming in. We won’t be coming into Domestic terminals.

You get the PGA Tour and the Golf Channel and Augusta National, too. That’s not such a bad deal. 

You get all the agriculture, oil, and natural resources you could ever want right there in your own eleven states. Relieved of the USDA, you can poison your food supply as you choose. We won’t be importing any of it. We have our own agriculture, oil, and natural resources. And by the way, you won't be importing any coal from us ... you might want to prioritize based on that.

You get to sell cheap cigarettes to your heart’s content, and bourbon. Federal Excise tax vanishes. 

You educate your kids any way you choose (what’s with all that messy dinosaur stuff anyway?). You won’t have to deal with all our intrusive departments telling you what food and farming practices are unsafe. You can set your own nutrition standards – and electoral standards, as well. Fancy that – you can discriminate all you want without the bother of our Constitution or its inconvenient amendments. Free at last!

You keep everything you have. (Except Fort Monroe and its immediate environs). You keep all the colleges in your territory, too. A place to educate those kids who will never have heard of dinosaurs. You know. Home schooling makes things so much cheaper for your states' education budgets, if any. Oh, I mean – sorry, that is if you are still planning to call them states. 

Your colleges are all big football schools, no? No need for us to be concerned with traumatic brain injuries in them. Your problem now. Or women’s sports (no more Title IX!). Or even educating women, for that matter. Oh! And you’ll have to come up with the Confederate States Olympic Team if you want to compete on that stage. Wow. I just thought of that.

You will be mercifully free of all Federal Laws. You will start with your original Constitution, and build from there. Oh! And you’ll be free of all that United Nations nonsense, too.

What’s in it for the USA?

We keep the Red Sox, the Cubs, the Patriots, the Steelers, the Celtics, the Knicks, and a horde of other major league professional sports teams – and all of the meaningful hockey teams. I am pretty sure we won’t miss very much the ones you get to keep. Baseball spring training will be moved to the southwest and SoCal. We need to bolster the economies of our own states.

We keep the Triple Crown.

We can stop funding cleanups on the Gulf shores. You own all of the Gulf States. You deal with the hurricanes. You deal with the oil spills. We won’t worry about the effects of Global Warming on the Gulf Coast. You don’t believe in it anyway. We are off the hook there and can focus on Global Warming on Alaska, the Pacific Coast, and well – the East Coast from Maine to Maryland. We want to keep those lobsters and crabs comfy. It’s going to cost you a bundle to import them. They’ll be landing at your Customs ports, gates, and borders. We are going to tax the crap out of them just for leaving town.

We’ll even do you a favor by assuring that the great rivers’ waters are clean when they get to you. What you do to them beyond our borders – that’s up to y’all.

We’ll stop policing Civil Rights for you. We’ll even set up a modern version of the Underground Railroad – so that any of your minority citizens can easily achieve refugee status and a fast path to citizenship here. Unless they were born in our country to begin with, our thirty-nine states – which gives them automatic citizenship here.

We will allow anyone whose birth or naturalization certificate was issued in one of our thirty-nine United States to enter our country at any time without applying for immigration status. That includes Barack Obama, who it seems was actually born in one of our states. You won’t have to worry about that anymore.

We will cancel all US Passports with birth or naturalization places in your eleven states, effective immediately. We will expedite a naturalization process for those born or naturalized in the Confederacy, but want to remain in our country. They can become US citizens and apply for a US Passport. We will be deporting the rest of them. You may have a refugee crisis on your hands - prepare. If you choose, we can negotiate deportation of any prisoners in our Federal prisons who are de facto Confederate citizens. It will make visiting day easier on their families.

You will have to issue your own passports. Your citizens will go through Immigration checkpoints to enter our country. This will be a real inconvenience for Snow Birds, especially the Canadians who drive point-to-point. They will have two border crossings now. Sorry, Canada.

You will need to set up Homeland Security, but no hurry there. So far, few major terrorists, foreign or domestic, has found you worthy of too much attention. Well, yeah, there were dustups in Florida, South Carolina, and Texas, weren't there? Maybe you should prioritize that. Remember we keep our own colleges – which includes all of the uniformed academies: Army, Air Force, Navy, Coast Guard, and Merchant Marine.

On the downside …

The United States’ duly elected Executive branch will be dismantled so we can elect from a new group of candidates living within our thirty-nine states. Many of the executive ‘new hires’ will have to go, too. We will be deporting most of them back to you. We will schedule new elections soon after this is a done deal. It pains me, but Paul Ryan will probably be our interim President. [The bright side: Wisconsin gets a do-over on electing a senator.]

Our Judicial branch will take a small hit; Clarence Thomas will have to go home. He was born in Georgia. He's yours. Paul Ryan will get to replace them with candidates from our thirty-nine states. Oh, well, nothing is going to be perfect.

Our Legislative branch will remain intact, but new Speakers and Leaders will be chosen. The remaining Senators and Congressmen will still represent our thirty-nine states, and our territories and protectorates - their terms will not be affected. We will deport those hailing from Confederate states.

We are going to miss Arlington National Cemetery, but would you possibly consider ceding it to us? After all, what possible use could you make of consecrated land dedicated to the memory dead United States soldiers? Even those who were born in your country have died in the service of a now foreign country. We are willing to make it neutral land if you are.

We can rebuild and replace all those buildings at Langley. We assume you have no claim on our CIA or FBI (well, that’s up for discussion - not sure we do either). You will be founding your own intelligence agencies, won’t you? And the Pentagon – that’s an expensive item. We can do better going forward. Meantime, we have lots of places to relocate those folks, the ones you don't get to keep. Fort Monroe comes to mind. 

National Institute of Health? We’ll bring that home to Washington, too. Along with their records. You have the campus. You can start anew. But remember: They can be busy bodies about your personal rights to die of deadly poisonous things.

Within a year, we should have sorted it all out. Everyone will be happier. Especially here in the US. And I know your old Dixie Rebels will be much more confortable. Then, once we get those Snow Birds on board with migrating to the desert southwest – or the California shores, all will be well.

On Faith

My parents had a mixed-faith marriage. As great-grandparents go, I am five-eighths Irish Catholic and three-eighths mixed-Yankee-Protestant-mostly-Baptist. I was raised Roman Catholic - a nod to my mother's one-hundred-percent Irish Catholic heritage - but inclusive of my father's Irish Catholic grandfather.

It made for a very predictable, and very constrained, mostly boring childhood and youth. Except that my father took pains to show me the value of the true Christian side of things. And he did live a faithful caring Christian life. He worked hard, and loved well. My mother taught by example. Her service to the Church was dedicated to the corporal works of mercy; her service to the community was to the schools and Girl Scouting; but she was always home in time to take care of her own family at the end of the day.

My mother always told me you could call yourself a Catholic, but still not be a Christian. Christianity is a way of life, she told me, of living a Christlike life. My father taught me you can call yourself a Christian, but that doesn't make it so,  if you don't live a Christlike life. At a very young age, I could see the distinction -- and I could see through the faux Christians (and Catholics) I met. And I could see my parents' Jewish friends were Christian, too. Kind, loving, faithful people. And I was taught that it was no coincidence -- Jesus Christ was himself a Jew.

In the modern day example of that theory, we have Paul Ryan - a man who calls himself a Catholic, but hasn't shown he has a Christlike bone in his body - shows no love for the sinner, no charity for the poor, no forgiveness for an enemy, no empathy for the elderly - no heart for humankind. It could be there, but I can't see it. He calls himself an 'Evangelical Catholic'; but there's no such thing this side of Opus Dei, a sub group of elite Catholics self-centered on their own souls, concerned with God, but not so much the Holy Trinity or emulating the life of Christ.

And we have Mike Pence, a man born a Roman Catholic, who calls himself an Evangelical Christian now - and who claims he has found God - but makes no mention of Christ, a figure apparently now foreign to his life. He demonstrates no love for anyone who is not like him - white skinned, wealthy, and male. He shows us naught but disdain for the rest of mankind. He knows God, but living the life of Christ is apparently a struggle for him. At least that is the part of his soul we can see. Perhaps there is another more charitable man in his heart.

Then we have Bernie Sanders, a Jew who shows his Christlike qualities every time he speaks. He is more Christian than many who identify as such. And there are others in government like him on both sides of 'the aisle' who show the caring and compassion that a true Christian life demands.


So, anyway, I grew up. I got married in the summer of 1967. I married a Catholic man who also came from a mixed-faith family. Mother, Irish Catholic; father, Episcopalian. And together we set out to create a new life together, perhaps a new family, in the Catholic and christian tradition. We had hope, and were bound by Faith and promises.

But it was 1967. A fierce year with an unconscionable, unnecessary war was being waged in Asia - supported by a group of decidedly less-than-Christian fat, old, powerful white men in Washington, DC. And here I was, now married to a soldier. I prayed a lot that St. Mary would help me mind my tongue -- as there was no stopping my brain for seeing that dirty little war for what it was.

On Christmas Eve 1967, at midnight Mass in the Main Post Chapel at Fort Lewis, Washington, our new marriage came face-to-face with a permanently crippling crisis of the Faith that joined us. Colonel Father Beaver was preaching. He said "Those who disagree with our war in Vietnam are committing a mortal sin, and cannot receive Holy Communion."

My new husband and I looked at one another, and rose together to leave the church. Close to fifty other soldiers, airmen, and their family members also rose and left. Yes, there were that many faithful Catholic military families at that one single Mass -- who apparently disagreed with the premise that despising a deadly war over nothing in a far-off land was a deal-breaker for God.

We never went back to church. Any church. In 1968, we were transferred to Fort Carson, Colorado, and we never even looked for the Main Post Chapel there. Martin Luther King died. Robert F. Kennedy died. My young soldier-husband was sent to Chicago to keep the peace. And I still didn't look for the Main Post Chapel. I sat at home in our Colorado apartment, in despair that there were so few good Christians left in my world. I grieved for the Kennedys again; I grieved for the loss of Dr. King. I was a far cry from the college freshman who spent all day in prayer in the Newman Center the day John F. Kennedy died just five years earlier.

A Master Sargent who lived in our building came to see if I needed anything. And I said 'I need to be able to pray again. I need to know everything will be okay.' And he sat with me for an hour or so, and we talked about those things. We talked about our churches, our faiths, his growing up in California, and my early life in Massachusetts. And my soul was eased. I was twenty-three. He was forty. He was black. I didn't notice. He was a Christian man of bottomless kindness.

A few months later, my young soldier-husband went to war. Like most young wives, I figured I'd next see him in a coffin, if at all. I moved to Northampton, Massachusetts. I got a job at the University in Amherst. I started working on my first Master's degree. I went to the Newman Center to reconcile with my faith. I found peace.  I lived on my own paycheck. I saved every cent of my soldier's combat pay and allowances in a separate account against the unlikely event that he would come home again. I had a well-rounded life. I was as happy as times allowed.

Then, my soldier did come home to me. Alive, but emotionally torn, harsh, and edgy. He began work on his own Master's degree. But he could not bring himself to return to church, any church. He had completely lost faith in any deity of any kind. He wouldn't even go into the Newman Center cafeteria, the campus Catholic religious center where we had met over coffee in 1965. He refused counseling.

Shortly after our graduate degrees were finished, we both found positions with a company in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. We moved to a new apartment. We bought a new car (a 1970 Torino). Two years later, we bought a house. The next January, while I was pregnant with our first child, the horrible, useless, deadly war in Vietnam ended. Many of our friends had been sacrificed for the enrichment of those fat, old, white men in Washington -- but our baby would be born in peacetime. We had hope.

Our baby was born in the summer of 1973. Her birth led to yet another faith crisis for us. Her baptism. We contacted the local Catholic church to arrange a baptism. The priest came to our home. He said without our financial pledge to his parish, he would not baptize our baby. Neither of us was comfortable with his holding her soul for ransom. We declined.

It was two more years before she was finally formally baptized, although we performed the deed at home with a friend. Our search for a place to celebrate a Christian life ended when we found a kindly old priest in the local Episcopal church. He would receive us into his church. He would baptize our child without a price tag. His congregation opened their hearts to us. We found a new home for our faith. Our daughter was raised Episcopalian, because they were the people who welcomed her young soul. But her father's soul was too wounded to really trust in God again for long. Seven years later he left us.

I have long-since moved several times. Nowadays, I don't get to any church as often as I would like, but I still have the faith in God and the love of Jesus in my life every day. I strive to live the Christian way my parents taught me oh-so-many years ago. I strive for the humility my father had; he was such a humble man. And for the constancy of my mother; she was always true.

I consider myself more Episcopalian than Catholic now, if you are branding my faith. At least that's where I send my money most often, and where I find a measure of joy. But above all I know I am a christian Christian. And I try to do it better every day.

MRP