There
have been more politicians than you can shake a stick at over the decades, including
our current president, that have used some version of this as their battle cry
to rally Americans. We all know that we want America to be great again, but
what is it that we’re really asking for? What will it take for America to be
great? Are we looking for low unemployment, high wages, stock markets on the
rise, low interest rates or low housing costs? I don’t think any of that makes
a difference. So just what is it that we’re after?
I
think that deep down we all have a longing for the nostalgia of something that
never really existed. That we’re looking for a place where Sherriff Taylor and
Barney weren’t just policemen walking a beat, but kind, trustworthy pillars of
the town who are able to keep all crime at bay without carrying a weapon. We
want Marcus Welby to make house calls and keep each of our ailments and secrets
to himself. We want him to hand us prescription drugs right out of his black
bag and take a watermelon as payment. We want little girls in pigtails saying ‘Goodnight
John Boy.” We’re looking for young lads that are willing to take out the trash
and mow the neighbor’s lawn for a homemade cookie and a glass of milk. We’re
looking for adults that help each other out through the tough times and throw bar-b-ques
to celebrate each other’s victories. We want to have our religion back. Where
we all go to church on Sunday and pray before each meal even in restaurants. We
want to see children kneel at the foot of their beds and thank God for another
day. We want to pledge allegiance to the
flag and have it mean more than just some words. We want drug stores to double
as soda shops and barber shops to be where the quartet practices. Yes, we want
hope, prosperity, kindness, honesty and freedom. But we don’t want to work for
them. We want someone to hand it to us on a silver platter.
So
there is always going to be a politicians telling us they will bring back ‘Main
Street’… that they can make a ‘Great America’. But none of them can ever
fulfill those promises.
Because
small towns and Main Streets are not places to visit, they are a way of life. They
are hidden inside each of us. So let’s search inside ourselves and pull them to
the surface. Only through our
action can we make America Great again.
His heart was formed from the black gumbo that filled the space between heaven and hell
It
was a cloudy and rain soaked day when they lowered Eddie into his 8’ x 3’ x 6’
eternal home. The entire town was in attendance. Most people were still stunned
at the news that our star athlete was dead. To listen to them talk, he was a
saint. More like a God among men, a Messiah sent to us to deliver us to the
Promised Land reserved for those who could call themselves ‘State Champions’.
Every business in town
was closed and every man in town who wasn’t at the funeral was gathered down at
Pappy’s bar. They sat around mourning in their own way, like men without pride
tend to do, over beer and whisky. While every woman in town was busy frying
chicken or making a casserole for after the funeral. All of them crying like
the very heart and soul had been ripped from the town itself.
On the pulpit, Reverend
Delkes was proclaiming that, “God has stretched out his arms and pulled young
Edward James Walters to walk eternally at his side.”
Tears streamed down Momma
Walter’s cheeks. William, Eddie’s father, stood by her side. Teeth clenched and
jaw set so as to show no emotion. Eddie’s sister Mary stood beside them both,
swaying back and forth like the Holy Spirit had entered her body and took
possession of her. The boys wept because they knew any hope of their winning
now was being covered with black gumbo. All the girls cried because they knew
he was their best shot of getting out of this town.
But you and I know the
truth Janice. You and I know what really happened so many years ago. We know
that bastard got exactly what he deserved. But your soul is still tied up in knots
from his hands and I will live with the blood on mine and gladly give more. If
only I could move the clock backwards for you. To that Friday before he ripped
away your innocence.
Like he’d done for 40 years, he placed their breakfast on the table. Since the stroke his wife had little appetite for food. He watched the morning news and she stared out the window. Later, in the garden he picked tomatoes and she watched the sun fall below an orange horizon. He said, “I love you.” She had no reply. As darkness crept in, they undressed and went to bed. When he awoke the next morning she was not at his side. In his frantic search, he found the check from the life insurance company lying unopened on the table