Give Thanks...The Land That I Love

 I took this picture of our flag on October 14th of this year. Tomorrow, I'll fly it again--both times to honor those who made it possible for me to be born, grow up, and live in this incredible country. This is the month where many of my fellow countrymen find things for which the are thankful and they share those thoughts with others.

Today, I'm thankful for where I live.

Having lived almost sixty years on this planet, I've seen some history. Had I properly studied history I would have known more, but between my grandparents and my self, our lives cover the years of 1885 to the present day. In those three generations, the world has forever changed. Very few living today could even comprehend what life was like in the 1800s. Tonight, I'm sitting in a climate-controlled room communicating on a device that can send these words to literally billions of people. We have food in our house that I did not have to hunt, water we did not have to dredge up from the ground, vehicles in the garage that can take us around the world. Even the most vivid imaginations of my grandparent's generation could ever have dreamed how we would live today.

We live in the age of miracles.

And the United States of America stands apart. The experiment allowing humans guaranteed rights, rights that should not be taken away by men with guns (governments or criminals...) was so novel, so radical, so important for humanity, that once implemented, the world would never be the same.

November is only ten-days old and the month has left its mark on history. I've watched with fascination the highest and lowest of emotions, and yet, the life I live cannot compare with the highs and lows of the people who came before, who sacrificed all. We sometimes (many times...) forget that history did not start the day we were born. That's a shame, and not only that, but forgetting history--true history--can doom a society.

Tonight I walked to the end of a dead end street where homes will one day line a new road. I looked up. The sky was aflame with reds and oranges and blues and colors that took my breath away. I get to live on that street. I get to live in a country where, because of good people obeying laws, me and my family can live in relative peace. Because I've not studied history, I know of few other people who have been so blessed.

Events of the past week have caused millions to flood social media with their opinions, their griefs, their joys. I add my voice to theirs to say I'm thankful where I live. I'm thankful to have never wanted for food, for shelter, for love. I'm thankful for this land that I love.

Celebrating A State Holiday...

 The flag...was huge. Of course, "huge" is a relative term. It was bigger than the flags people have at their homes, but smaller than the flags unfurled at the Super Bowl. However when you stand under under the fabric as it moves and flows in a strong wind, it's impressive.

In large cities and small towns across our state, communities celebrated not a date when a state was born, but a day that a group of weathered, haggard, and expelled pioneers entered a desolate valley and called it home.

July 24, 1847.

A lot's changed since then.

That was 174 years ago today. The first time I experienced this holiday (even though I was not yet one-year old...), the holiday was only 119 years old.

A lot's changes since 1966, too.

My family went to the celebration in our little town. At the east end of the park, a large flag was tied between tall pillars. Because of a strong north wind, the flag was not majestically hanging as a backdrop to the event, but it was almost perpendicular to the ground. I walked to it and snapped several pictures and took a video. It struck me that even though it wasn't displayed as intended, it was beautiful just the same.

I know, for some, it's not popular to love where you're from, but I do. I loved seeing the flag flying this morning. I hope the tradition continues for generations to come.