The Weakly Post Bud
Hearn July 3, 2014
Spirit of Rebellion
The War of Independence was an
unfair matchup. England, population 6.4 million, versus The Colonies, about 2.5
million farmers and colonists. No Las Vegas bookie would have taken that bet.
But God did.
There’s a rebellious streak in youth. It’s a natural
tendency. They’re born to despise authority, to abhor rules, to kick back at
every provocation that seeks to restrict their sense of freedom. If you don’t
believe this, adopt a teenager.
The young are revolutionists,
seditionists. Innovation is their magic carpet. They detest normalcy. Their
minds have not yet crossed the threshold of Concession or Impossibility. Things
are black or white, no gray. It’s blood and guts, not cookies and tea.
Youth has something to prove, and
they’re restless until they do. They’re impervious to danger, eat it like nail
soup. They spit in the face of death and dare it to complain. Change is a quick
snack they have for breakfast.
Old men don’t dig trenches.
They don’t wage wars in the dust, the heat, the cold, the mud and the blood.
It’s viewed at safe distances with smarmy handlers, catered meals and corporate
sponsors. Their empty platitudes are masks of insincerity at the gravesites of
patriotism.
Strategy and political maneuvering are
their amusements. Their spirit of conflict is overcome by their pacifistic urge
to compromise with status quo. They conduct closed-door conferences and schemes
of international intrigue. The globe is their chess board. Youth are their
pawns. Don’t rock their boats.
Is America becoming soft by
compromise, anesthetized by wealth, obese by inaction? Is it content with the
noose of unearned entitlements? Or acquiesce of personal independence squeezed
out by a greedy central government? Is it happy with the constraints imposed by
a bloated bureaucracy? Where’s the spirit of rebellion today? Where are the
protesters?
America was conceived as a nation
of rebels. Like youth itself, it was a wild, unexplored country, full of
promise, privation and possibility. Its future was unknown, untapped and
untried.
The bones of its skeleton are
nationalistic, its flesh the principal of charity, its breath the soul of
freedom. God spoke the words once again unto its chaos, “Son of man, can
these bones live?” They did, and in 1776 America was born. It has remained
a mighty nation for 238 years.
America thrives on a cult of
perpetual youth. The quest for the Fountain of Youth ended in 1513 in what’s
now St. Augustine, Florida, the oldest city in America. Ponce de Leon had a
vision, but it was 263 years early. Today the spirit of that vision is
alive and well.
America’s is not planted in
concrete. It’s sleepless, ever inventive, always transformative. It runs, not
walks. Enough is never enough. Perfection is just another milestone to
something better. The culture of constant rebirth boils in the national spirit.
Caste finds no home here.
How is this possible? America’s
freedom was not born of a religious fanaticism. Nor by slick, sugar-coated
words of doctrine that rolled off the tongues of politicians. Freedom comes at the
expense of blood, not vowels. The blood of Colonial Patriots still cries
from the earth, “Remember, remember, remember!” This is what we
celebrate on Independence Day.
America was a dream. Dreams
are ephemeral. They vanish easily at daylight. Dreams need nurture. The visions
are gifts that need to be stirred up regularly. Like the grit of discontent, it
impels us to action.
Tomorrow we will again celebrate
Independence Day with parades and egalitarian events nationwide. We will for a
day reignite the Spirit of Freedom that thrives in our nation. We will eat 150
million hot dogs and the words ‘lily-livered’ and ‘yellow belly’ will not be
uttered.
Overhead fireworks will burst
everywhere. Like the bursts of muskets and cannons, may each one remind us of
the sacrifices that were made by the Patriots.
