JagFarlane
Gone Hiking
- Joined
- Apr 14, 2003
- Posts
- 9,713
As we settle down to our Fourth of July meals and festivities, let us reflect briefly upon the history of our country.
July 4th, 1776 a group of men committed the ultimate act, treason, against their homeland, against the crown of Britain. They committed thousands of souls to battles waged, in the ideals of freedom and democracy. They pledged their names into a document that would send the world spiraling, some writing small enough its almost illegible, some writing definatly large. All, though, pledging their desires into a cause larger than themselves.
Over the next few years, battles would rage on. Lives lost, and a world forever altered as it gave birth to a new nation, the United States of America. Help, of course, was given by the French, urged by their own desires to strike a blow at their arch-nemesis, England.
After the war, she would grow fast, yet, more pacifist, putting away the toys of war. Growing pains would be felt, as the nation learned to co-operate with each other. No later than the year of 1812 would a nation, yearning for recognition on a worldwide scale, enter war again. Her sailors oppressed by both the British and the French, she would yet again setout upon the path of war. Much is made of a war that perhaps, was lost. Yet, though, the spirit of Americans rose to heights. From that which was not a military, to the bringing of new ships, built to fight the mighty British Navy. Battles fought out at sea, legacies made, treason occured, and a symbol burnt to the ground.Yet, that symbol would be reborn into one that is known worldwide. To one that stands for truth, justice, freedom, and democracy.
Internal strife brought a country to its knees. Brother versus brother, father against son. Families torn, and yet, somehow brought back together. A man, larger than life, born with the purpose of healing the wounds of old, and renewing the hope of a bright future. A stovepipe hat and tall, gangly form burnt into history. An address made upon a historic battlefield, the turning point of a war, forged into the minds of all whom hear it "Four score and seven years ago, our forefathers wrought upon this land a great nation...".
In time, the nation healed itself, grew, settled its land. Yes, mistakes were made, but, all nations make their mistakes. Wars yet again fought, internally and externally. A figure of lore forged at the battle of San Juan hill. Immigration grew, and with it, new ideas, new customs, and hard working people dreaming of a better life. A copper statue symbolizing their hope, smiles spread as they drew close enough to read those immortal words "Give me your tired, your poor.."
And so she was, up till an archduke was assassinated. The clouds of war upon the horizon, countries across the Atlantic honored alliances and brought forth their armies to battle. New ways of war were raged, the horse giving way to the tank, terrible gas used. A nation yet again arose, sending forth her sons to battle. Democracy must be preserved, old slights forgiven, alliances formed solid as together nations fought to preserve their ways.
A peace treaty written, promises made, and a losing country plunged into deep debts and depression. Money lent to her by one of her defeaters, to pay the others off. Hope, and pacifism spread. Isolationism the word of the day. Then...the dust bowls, the crash of the stock market, the grip of depression. Soup lines formed, suffering, pain felt. From this, would rise a man crippled by polio, yet full of charisma and caring for the common man. Rarely allowing the public to view him in a wheelchair, his fireside chats something the public craved, and needed. His wisdom, that of one ahead of its time, yet, desperately needed.
And the clouds of war brewed again, this time in both the European continent and the Far East. Young men signed up and shipped off to China, forming a small group to go into legend as "The Flying Tigers", valiantly fighting for a people unknown to them beforehand. Yet, the public remained isolated from this, their taste for war bitter. They watched as the brave sons of Britain fought in the air, staving off the Blitzkrieg with Hurricanes and the elegant Spitfire. The old man saw the coming of war, desired to help, and waited. A surprise attack, the crippling of a fleet struck deep into the souls of the public. Rage simmered forth, war was called for. The men and women leapt to action. Rosie the Riveter made a name for herself, as would G.I. Joe. Engineers created marvels not seen before. The Flying Fortress took to the air, the Mustang and Corsair raced to battle, as the mighty Iowa class was constructed. The battleship, long known as the key to victory, handed over the crown to the aircraft carrier. Wildcats, Hellcats, and Corsairs took to flight off these mobile landing strips. Rangers leading the way in Europe, Marines toughing it out in the East. An unlikely alliance forged with the singular goal of the defeat of a man whom had twisted what was a symbol of peace into a symbol of hate.
And as the dust settled, the rebuilding began. A boom of children as war weary souls found love and settled into families. Yet, now, as defined as a superpower, this country would find itself in a new role. As a peacekeeper, and a fighter of communism. Crazed anger slipped through the nation under the guidance of a man simply known as McCarthy. Wars were renamed police actions, as the younger brothers of soldiers of the second world war were called away to an unknown country...Korea.
Again it would happen, this time one known as Vietnam. The now grown sons of those vets sought their own glory, only to be spit upon when they returned home. The country was torn, between war and peace. Two extremes refusing to exist in the same lands. Free love, crazy colors, drugs, battles, and drafting.
Eventually, she healed herself again, and slowly learned to accept her role. Always on call, her sons and soon daughters would see action in many other countries. Not always in the roles of battle, but in providing relief. Even today, when Indonesia was struck, C-130's were seen rolling down the strip.
Today, she is hated by many, some outside the country, some inside. Yet, her beacon of hope is still seen, by those willing to risk life and limb crossing oceans in rafts or leaping fences. And whilst her own news companies choose to report only the bad, and push images of GITMO, one should pause to remember the good. The smiling faces of young German children as the candy man parachuted goodies to them during their time of need. The rebuilding of a proud country of samurais. The food and medical supplies brought to war torn African countries and natural disaster victims. Yes, there is much to criticize, but one must ask oneself, is that country really as evil as many wish to have it viewed as? Honestly, I don't think so, and tire greatly of the blinded views of many. Your countries are no better, and some are worse. We all have our faults, all should accept that. Yes, problems should be pointed out to help better oneself and country, yet, beaten to death, they are too much.
Happy birthday America. And hopefully, many more to come.
July 4th, 1776 a group of men committed the ultimate act, treason, against their homeland, against the crown of Britain. They committed thousands of souls to battles waged, in the ideals of freedom and democracy. They pledged their names into a document that would send the world spiraling, some writing small enough its almost illegible, some writing definatly large. All, though, pledging their desires into a cause larger than themselves.
Over the next few years, battles would rage on. Lives lost, and a world forever altered as it gave birth to a new nation, the United States of America. Help, of course, was given by the French, urged by their own desires to strike a blow at their arch-nemesis, England.
After the war, she would grow fast, yet, more pacifist, putting away the toys of war. Growing pains would be felt, as the nation learned to co-operate with each other. No later than the year of 1812 would a nation, yearning for recognition on a worldwide scale, enter war again. Her sailors oppressed by both the British and the French, she would yet again setout upon the path of war. Much is made of a war that perhaps, was lost. Yet, though, the spirit of Americans rose to heights. From that which was not a military, to the bringing of new ships, built to fight the mighty British Navy. Battles fought out at sea, legacies made, treason occured, and a symbol burnt to the ground.Yet, that symbol would be reborn into one that is known worldwide. To one that stands for truth, justice, freedom, and democracy.
Internal strife brought a country to its knees. Brother versus brother, father against son. Families torn, and yet, somehow brought back together. A man, larger than life, born with the purpose of healing the wounds of old, and renewing the hope of a bright future. A stovepipe hat and tall, gangly form burnt into history. An address made upon a historic battlefield, the turning point of a war, forged into the minds of all whom hear it "Four score and seven years ago, our forefathers wrought upon this land a great nation...".
In time, the nation healed itself, grew, settled its land. Yes, mistakes were made, but, all nations make their mistakes. Wars yet again fought, internally and externally. A figure of lore forged at the battle of San Juan hill. Immigration grew, and with it, new ideas, new customs, and hard working people dreaming of a better life. A copper statue symbolizing their hope, smiles spread as they drew close enough to read those immortal words "Give me your tired, your poor.."
And so she was, up till an archduke was assassinated. The clouds of war upon the horizon, countries across the Atlantic honored alliances and brought forth their armies to battle. New ways of war were raged, the horse giving way to the tank, terrible gas used. A nation yet again arose, sending forth her sons to battle. Democracy must be preserved, old slights forgiven, alliances formed solid as together nations fought to preserve their ways.
A peace treaty written, promises made, and a losing country plunged into deep debts and depression. Money lent to her by one of her defeaters, to pay the others off. Hope, and pacifism spread. Isolationism the word of the day. Then...the dust bowls, the crash of the stock market, the grip of depression. Soup lines formed, suffering, pain felt. From this, would rise a man crippled by polio, yet full of charisma and caring for the common man. Rarely allowing the public to view him in a wheelchair, his fireside chats something the public craved, and needed. His wisdom, that of one ahead of its time, yet, desperately needed.
And the clouds of war brewed again, this time in both the European continent and the Far East. Young men signed up and shipped off to China, forming a small group to go into legend as "The Flying Tigers", valiantly fighting for a people unknown to them beforehand. Yet, the public remained isolated from this, their taste for war bitter. They watched as the brave sons of Britain fought in the air, staving off the Blitzkrieg with Hurricanes and the elegant Spitfire. The old man saw the coming of war, desired to help, and waited. A surprise attack, the crippling of a fleet struck deep into the souls of the public. Rage simmered forth, war was called for. The men and women leapt to action. Rosie the Riveter made a name for herself, as would G.I. Joe. Engineers created marvels not seen before. The Flying Fortress took to the air, the Mustang and Corsair raced to battle, as the mighty Iowa class was constructed. The battleship, long known as the key to victory, handed over the crown to the aircraft carrier. Wildcats, Hellcats, and Corsairs took to flight off these mobile landing strips. Rangers leading the way in Europe, Marines toughing it out in the East. An unlikely alliance forged with the singular goal of the defeat of a man whom had twisted what was a symbol of peace into a symbol of hate.
And as the dust settled, the rebuilding began. A boom of children as war weary souls found love and settled into families. Yet, now, as defined as a superpower, this country would find itself in a new role. As a peacekeeper, and a fighter of communism. Crazed anger slipped through the nation under the guidance of a man simply known as McCarthy. Wars were renamed police actions, as the younger brothers of soldiers of the second world war were called away to an unknown country...Korea.
Again it would happen, this time one known as Vietnam. The now grown sons of those vets sought their own glory, only to be spit upon when they returned home. The country was torn, between war and peace. Two extremes refusing to exist in the same lands. Free love, crazy colors, drugs, battles, and drafting.
Eventually, she healed herself again, and slowly learned to accept her role. Always on call, her sons and soon daughters would see action in many other countries. Not always in the roles of battle, but in providing relief. Even today, when Indonesia was struck, C-130's were seen rolling down the strip.
Today, she is hated by many, some outside the country, some inside. Yet, her beacon of hope is still seen, by those willing to risk life and limb crossing oceans in rafts or leaping fences. And whilst her own news companies choose to report only the bad, and push images of GITMO, one should pause to remember the good. The smiling faces of young German children as the candy man parachuted goodies to them during their time of need. The rebuilding of a proud country of samurais. The food and medical supplies brought to war torn African countries and natural disaster victims. Yes, there is much to criticize, but one must ask oneself, is that country really as evil as many wish to have it viewed as? Honestly, I don't think so, and tire greatly of the blinded views of many. Your countries are no better, and some are worse. We all have our faults, all should accept that. Yes, problems should be pointed out to help better oneself and country, yet, beaten to death, they are too much.
Happy birthday America. And hopefully, many more to come.
