Patriot Dreams

My father was a first generation American. His mother, Clara, was from England (never quite lost her accent). His father, Samuel, was Scottish. He and his brother, James,remained in Scotland to work and pay passage for the rest of the family to come to America. James died in an railroad accident. Dad was named for his uncle whose dreams were unfulfilled.
My grandparents and father were proud to be citizens. This took shape in my life with my father's devotion to the flag.  I remember helping him construct a homemade flagpole on top of our garage. My daily responsibility (as a young Boy Scout) was to raise the flag.
Dad had an inordinate trust of elected officials and persons in authority.  The other side of my family (my mother is from Arkansas and her family roots go back to the early 1800's in North Carolina) seemed to distrust elected officials as fools and crooks. I don't know. Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt.
It's just that on Independence Day when I think of the freedom forged by those early colonists, I also think of the pride and devotion of my immigrant grandparents. And I hope the stream of persons seeking new life in America will be blessed.
O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years ...
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw, confirm thy soul in self control,
thy liberty in law.