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Or so this "distinguished gentleman" says.
I almost wish he'd come to Massachusetts so I can show him my father's WWII discharge papers, or tell him about my uncle Lou suffering from malaria and the effects of his war wounds till the day he died. I wish I could show him the genealogy proving my descent from Captain Evans Evans of the Continental Army. I wish he could see my photo albums, crammed with things like my mother's high school commencement program from a small, small town, or my own hard-earned and hard-won diplomas. I'd love to introduce him to the high school classmates who had to leave Pittsburgh because the jobs in the steel mills went overseas, or maybe show him my great-great uncle Christian's naturalization papers from the 1880s where he abjured his allegiance to the King of Bavaria and the Queen of England so he could come here and breathe free.
I vote every election. I salute the flag. I tear up when I hear the Star Spangled Banner played at a hockey game, and I sat in my church and sobbed on 9/11, wishing I were young enough and fit enough to enlist in the chaplains' corps.
I love my country, and it makes me physically sick that someone would dare to question this based solely on my party registration. Is this why Evan Evans risked being hanged? Why Lou had to be packed in ice to bring down the fever in North Africa? Why my father fought in the Battle of the Bulge? Why my ancestors from Wales and Ireland and Baden-Wurttemburg left everything behind to come here?
What is wrong with these people?
I almost wish he'd come to Massachusetts so I can show him my father's WWII discharge papers, or tell him about my uncle Lou suffering from malaria and the effects of his war wounds till the day he died. I wish I could show him the genealogy proving my descent from Captain Evans Evans of the Continental Army. I wish he could see my photo albums, crammed with things like my mother's high school commencement program from a small, small town, or my own hard-earned and hard-won diplomas. I'd love to introduce him to the high school classmates who had to leave Pittsburgh because the jobs in the steel mills went overseas, or maybe show him my great-great uncle Christian's naturalization papers from the 1880s where he abjured his allegiance to the King of Bavaria and the Queen of England so he could come here and breathe free.
I vote every election. I salute the flag. I tear up when I hear the Star Spangled Banner played at a hockey game, and I sat in my church and sobbed on 9/11, wishing I were young enough and fit enough to enlist in the chaplains' corps.
I love my country, and it makes me physically sick that someone would dare to question this based solely on my party registration. Is this why Evan Evans risked being hanged? Why Lou had to be packed in ice to bring down the fever in North Africa? Why my father fought in the Battle of the Bulge? Why my ancestors from Wales and Ireland and Baden-Wurttemburg left everything behind to come here?
What is wrong with these people?
