Our 250th Birthday
Twelve score and a decade ago, our fetal nation was incubating in
sweltering debate.
Fifty-six sweating men in powdered wigs locked themselves in a poorly
ventilated hall, right smack in the depths of Philadelphia’s
swampland.
One can almost hear tempers flare and voices rise with birthing pains.
Across the countryside, opinions dug their heels into fertile soil,
thoroughly convinced that citizens should remain loyal to the British
crown or just as thoroughly convinced that the only realistic future
carried liberty on her shoulders.
Neighbors argued with neighbors.
Wives argued with husbands.
Politicians argued with themselves.
Not even 50 hues of June green could create peace and tranquility
among the farmers, creators, suppliers, tavern owners and others
during the summer of 1776.
It was ugly.
Then Paul Revere and Sybil Ludington rode through the night to warn
scattered militia that the British were coming.
Finally, the United States took her first breath, kicking and
screaming, born sturdy and growing fast.
A new pride and sense of unity among citizens grew along with the
toddling nation.
Life wasn’t easy, but freedom felt good.
Opportunity beckoned.
At least, freedom felt good and opportunity beckoned for the unshackled.
Eight score plus a handful of fingers ago, tempers flared and voices
rose at the injustice of shackles.
Across the countryside, opinions dug their heels into fertile soil,
thoroughly convinced that some people were born to serve others or
just as thoroughly convinced that the only realistic future carried
liberty for all shades of skin on her shoulders.
Brothers argued with brothers.
Once again, politicians argued with themselves.
The discussion could not be contained.
Still a middle schooler, the nation split.
Almost 700,000 Americans died during the debate over our nation’s
future, far more than any other war fought by U.S. soldiers.
Survivors, both soldiers and civilians, felt the fury and grief of betrayal.
Post-war policies and attitudes were not conducive to healing the
hearts of bruised and battered citizens.
Life wasn’t easy, but freedom felt good.
Opportunity beckoned, even if it gestured from far to the west.
So, as the nation swung open the heavy doors of high school, pioneers
loaded wagons to emigrate, following opportunity.
Opinions dug their heels into newly plowed fertile soil, thoroughly
convinced of Manifest Destiny or just as thoroughly convinced that
immigration decimated established cultures.
Easterners argued with Westerners.
Gun-toting generals argued with arrows.
Traditions toppled, then transformed.
Pioneers broke ground and built fences.
Life wasn’t easy, but freedom felt good.
Opportunity beckoned.
At least, freedom felt good and opportunity beckoned for half of the citizenry.
During the years that brothers argued with brothers about injustices
of federal doctrine or whether rain would follow plows, women insisted
on their right to join in freedom.
Finally, just five score and a few summers ago, as our nation aged
enough to legally vote, females were granted the right to vote, too.
Life wasn’t easy, but freedom felt good.
Opportunity beckoned for more citizens.
Today, as America turns 250 years old, she faces the challenges of
young adulthood.
How to balance responsibility with liberty.
How to honor the past while seeking opportunities for the future.
How to defend fundamental principles while respecting those who disagree.
Today, potential solutions are debated with strong opinions, flaring
tempers and loud voices.
Arguments feel personal, as if a person’s IQ drops just before he disagrees.
Yet, inside the chasm of division, we all cherish the principles upon
which our nation was born – freedom, equality, individual
responsibility, compassion and morality.
As our nation matures, we cling to these common values.
Maturity finds ways to survive divisiveness.
We will prevail.
Life isn’t easy, but freedom feels good.
Though distant, opportunity for unity beckons.
Happy birthday, America.