Dear Dad,
Another Memorial Day has come and gone and I thank the Creator that you are still with us and able to enjoy life at eighty-seven years young unhindered by many of the physical and mental maladies that afflict your peers. I know that the reason for this is part discipline instilled by the Marine Corp many years back; you yourself have said that if it wasn't for the Corp you would most likely would have led a different life. Also you have kept your mind active all these years thru your voracious reading (I and my other sibs are forever indebted to you and mom for passing this trait on to us inherently) and games such as Scrabble which you still reign over us "youngsters" as Supreme Champion Unsurpassed.
Memorial Day 2012 found me home, a holiday off. The day was cool, sunny, and pleasant; a perfect day to stand on the sidelines of Main Street with fellow citizens and honor our veterans as they rode in open vehicles sandwiched between local school bands boogying to John Philip Sousa. My heart use to swell with pride when your motorcade would pass by; "There's my dad everybody, there's my dad!" But this year, dad, I could not go and I think no matter what I say, well, you won't understand. So when I saw you at supper that night I mumbled something about "convalescencing" after a hard week at work. And I was tired, but never too tired to see my dad. Especially being offiially escorted down Main Street. But my heart grieves for what this country did to the native people who inhabited this land millinieums before our European ancestors used up all their timber and sought to find a land that would allow them to practice their beliefs as they chose. And tragically and in heinous fashion they did not grant these same freedoms to those who honored and respected this land first. And then even after these European "christians" wrote up a declaration of independence they smelled profit; however attainable only thru the backbreaking toil of African people they kidnapped and transported brutally across the ocean. They whipped and beat these human beings into submission; they raped the women and took children from their weeping mothers. I cannot come to terms with this, dad. Yes, it was in the past and you tell me all land everywhere was "taken" by someone else but that does not ease the shame in my soul for these despiable deeds. And dad, these deeds aren't buried just in the past but these very deeds still reverberate today within the hearts and lives of the descendents of all these tribes. They suffer, dad, not only by not having the opportunities us whites have, but by pain in their very core which haunts them night and day. This pain erupts into anger; then turns into depression and isolation which tragically spirals so many into drugs and alcohol for escape. And then so many of our race who grow up with unbounded opportunity look at them and shake our heads and call them "lazy" and "weak" and looking for "handouts."
Years ago you and mom spent three weeks driving west with five unruly kids. I remember the black hills. I did not know at the time that this is sacred ground to the Lakotah: Paha Sapa.http://www.republicoflakotah.com/2009/k%c8%9fe-sapa-and-paha-sapa-russell-means-response-to-david-swallow/ I remember staying overnight in a camp site deep in this land. We could see the profile of George Washington lit up thru the hills. Before leaving this land we went and saw the imposing work on the sculpture of Crazy Horse. I never forgot this, dad, and have an inkling now as a parent what a sacrafice and job this was to show your children so much of this country in this manner. I'm sure I never told you and mom back then how much this trip meant to me, probably moreso now than then, so I belatedly thank you and mom now.
I won't be down at the river this year either for fireworks. Last year I knew I wouldn't return. I could not join in with the other revelers, drunk or sober, because dad, you instilled such a love for history in me that I have sought out the truths regarding the beginnings of this land. Today I am ashamed to be an "american" but I am proud of you for all you have given to your family and your people thru the years. And this has nothing to do with Uncle Sam, dad. We could have been born and raised in Siberia, but with you as our father, well, us kids still would have had the dad that was voted yearly as "The Neighborhood's Best Dad." I love you, Marine Corp and all. Amy
Another Memorial Day has come and gone and I thank the Creator that you are still with us and able to enjoy life at eighty-seven years young unhindered by many of the physical and mental maladies that afflict your peers. I know that the reason for this is part discipline instilled by the Marine Corp many years back; you yourself have said that if it wasn't for the Corp you would most likely would have led a different life. Also you have kept your mind active all these years thru your voracious reading (I and my other sibs are forever indebted to you and mom for passing this trait on to us inherently) and games such as Scrabble which you still reign over us "youngsters" as Supreme Champion Unsurpassed.
Memorial Day 2012 found me home, a holiday off. The day was cool, sunny, and pleasant; a perfect day to stand on the sidelines of Main Street with fellow citizens and honor our veterans as they rode in open vehicles sandwiched between local school bands boogying to John Philip Sousa. My heart use to swell with pride when your motorcade would pass by; "There's my dad everybody, there's my dad!" But this year, dad, I could not go and I think no matter what I say, well, you won't understand. So when I saw you at supper that night I mumbled something about "convalescencing" after a hard week at work. And I was tired, but never too tired to see my dad. Especially being offiially escorted down Main Street. But my heart grieves for what this country did to the native people who inhabited this land millinieums before our European ancestors used up all their timber and sought to find a land that would allow them to practice their beliefs as they chose. And tragically and in heinous fashion they did not grant these same freedoms to those who honored and respected this land first. And then even after these European "christians" wrote up a declaration of independence they smelled profit; however attainable only thru the backbreaking toil of African people they kidnapped and transported brutally across the ocean. They whipped and beat these human beings into submission; they raped the women and took children from their weeping mothers. I cannot come to terms with this, dad. Yes, it was in the past and you tell me all land everywhere was "taken" by someone else but that does not ease the shame in my soul for these despiable deeds. And dad, these deeds aren't buried just in the past but these very deeds still reverberate today within the hearts and lives of the descendents of all these tribes. They suffer, dad, not only by not having the opportunities us whites have, but by pain in their very core which haunts them night and day. This pain erupts into anger; then turns into depression and isolation which tragically spirals so many into drugs and alcohol for escape. And then so many of our race who grow up with unbounded opportunity look at them and shake our heads and call them "lazy" and "weak" and looking for "handouts."
Years ago you and mom spent three weeks driving west with five unruly kids. I remember the black hills. I did not know at the time that this is sacred ground to the Lakotah: Paha Sapa.http://www.republicoflakotah.com/2009/k%c8%9fe-sapa-and-paha-sapa-russell-means-response-to-david-swallow/ I remember staying overnight in a camp site deep in this land. We could see the profile of George Washington lit up thru the hills. Before leaving this land we went and saw the imposing work on the sculpture of Crazy Horse. I never forgot this, dad, and have an inkling now as a parent what a sacrafice and job this was to show your children so much of this country in this manner. I'm sure I never told you and mom back then how much this trip meant to me, probably moreso now than then, so I belatedly thank you and mom now.I won't be down at the river this year either for fireworks. Last year I knew I wouldn't return. I could not join in with the other revelers, drunk or sober, because dad, you instilled such a love for history in me that I have sought out the truths regarding the beginnings of this land. Today I am ashamed to be an "american" but I am proud of you for all you have given to your family and your people thru the years. And this has nothing to do with Uncle Sam, dad. We could have been born and raised in Siberia, but with you as our father, well, us kids still would have had the dad that was voted yearly as "The Neighborhood's Best Dad." I love you, Marine Corp and all. Amy
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