Alan N. Levy: A Tribute to America on Memorial Day

It’s early on Friday morning, and for most Americans, we’re looking forward to a long weekend.

On Monday, perhaps we’ll spend too much time in the sun, we’ll have a few beers and a couple of hot dogs, and for those of us who live near a beach, we’ll build sand castles with our children.

Perhaps we’ll engage in lively debate with our relatives and neighbors, and we’ll venture in our discussions into the unchartered waters of political controversy. It is our right to do so, for we live in a free society, and in spite of our differences and differences of opinion, it is our right to debate and to disagree that makes this nation the great Republic that it is.

Two days ago, on Wednesday, I had a doctor’s appointment at 12:30 pm. I live near Panama City in Florida, by the way, a community ravaged by a beast of a storm named Michael. Recently reclassified as a Category 5 hurricane, Michael was no such thing. A Cat 5 has winds of 155 mph, and at Tyndall Air Force Base, the recording instrumentation displayed winds of up to 218 mph. If there were categories beyond a Cat 5, Michael should have been designated perhaps a Cat 8. One might argue there’s no such thing as an 8, but when you drive around this community and see destroyed shells that once were thriving businesses, vacant homes, and tens of thousands of trees snapped in half as though they were merely twigs, the scope of the aftermath of this massive storm hits you like a bulldozer.

I’ve mentioned Hurricane Michael for a reason. The citizens of this community, many of whom are living in barely habitable homes or tents while awaiting insurance settlements and repairs on their homes to be completed, show me every day their bravery and determination. This is a proud community with a strong military history, primarily conservative in nature, consisting of thousands of hard-working, dedicated people, and the terms loyalty, honor, and integrity are not merely words here; they are a credo, a way of life.

Before my doctor’s appointment, I decided to stop someplace for a quick lunch, and I selected a place named Mission BBQ nearby. I’ve never been there before, but I’d heard good comments by my coworkers, so I decided to try the place. I arrived at 11:45 am, opted for a 2-meat platter with a side of coleslaw, found an open table and sat down to enjoy my meal.

At precisely noon, a voice came over the loudspeaker in the restaurant. Before that moment, I’d not given any thought to the chosen name of the place. Mission? California Mission? A religious mission, perhaps to convert the masses? Nope, it’s “Mission” as in a military mission. And it was then I realized the muted green on signs and on menus was the same green used on U.S. Army combat uniforms.

The voice said, “It is noon, ladies and gentlemen, and as is our custom here at Mission BBQ, we ask that you stand and sing our national anthem with us.” A flag appeared on all the TVs, familiar music began, and the words to our national anthem filled the screens. (I appreciated the fact that the words were only displayed in English). I stood immediately, and yet sensed I was the last in the room to react and do so. Every man and woman in the crowded restaurant had a right hand over his or her heart, we all sang, and one thing was so very apparent to me … the pride that was on display in that room. People simply proud to be Americans.

I know someone who is on vacation in Italy as I write this. She told me just before she and her husband left that they portray themselves as Canadian citizens whenever they travel outside this country, because they are so embarrassed at who we are and how we are being led. I find that statement and position highly offensive and insulting. In my last email to her the day before their departure, I suggested on their return to the United States they arrange a layover in Washington, D.C. so they might spend some time touring Arlington National Cemetery. And that they start counting headstones.

There are roughly four hundred thousand graves in Arlington. Four hundred thousand voices, in unison proclaiming, “We did this for you, so that you may cherish the right to live in freedom. So that you may be allowed the sacred right to openly disagree with your fellow citizens. So that you may choose to peacefully remove those in office who have disappointed you, or you may choose to support your current leaders. You have those rights because we have died to preserve them. And remember us, and show us the respect we deserve.”

This article is to show those honored dead the respect they deserve.

And I might add that when Ronald Reagan was our president, I was proud to be an American.  When Jimmy Carter sat in the Oval Office, I was proud to be an American. And whether our president was named Truman, Eisenhower, Clinton, Obama, or Trump, I have been proud to be an American. The British and the French should be glad we are proud to be Americans, for the depth of commitment we have repeatedly shown in our quest to combat tyranny has not been duplicated by those of any other nation on this planet.

Proud to be an American?

You bet your ass I am.

To each of you who were at Mission BBQ a couple of days ago and displayed your incredible level of patriotism, especially when virtually all of us are dealing with the aftermath and hardships caused by Michael, I salute you.

And I sense four hundred thousand heads, nodding in silent approval of this message.

Thank you to each of you, and you have not died in vain.

Our Republic lives on.

Photo by Tazzanderson, Pixabay. Alan N. Levy is the author of the geo-political thriller, The Tenth Plague, which Kirkus Reviews calls, “a bombastic and cinematic thriller … A fleet and dramatic … tale of global conflict.” The novel is available for pre-order at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and your local bookstore.