One or We're Done: E Pluribus Unum

I think we are all familiar, as Americans, with the phrase "E pluribus unum," meaning "out of many, one." In this election season, I am sorry to witness the extent to which we are not, in fact, one...a reality which both saddens and concerns me. 

Why has it become nigh on impossible for pols, pundits, and people in general to politically or even culturally disagree with a fellow citizen without denigrating his or her character? What happened to the respect we owe each other as free men and free women who share a love for this nation? (In fact, what happened to the respect we owe each other, period?) Must we demonize one another to make our points? Can we not all agree that every one of us has the inalienable right to put forth his or her own opinions without being branded evil or declared a lunatic? Do we really have to make sweeping generalizations about entire groups of people based upon the foibles of a handful? Are we doomed to stew in our own, stagnating juices for the simple reason that we refuse to reach out and create a blend that would be (reasonably) palatable to all?

We are the proverbial great American melting pot, and as such, our citizens differ in more ways than we can count. Because of these differences, not one of us is going to get everything he or she wants. But we can all get some of what we want, provided we are willing to respect one another enough to discuss, negotiate, and legislate honorably. Perhaps we can even manage to campaign honorably, which would be a welcome relief to most of us right about now. It's time to address issues, issues, and only issues! Why? Because vitriolic diatribes, self-serving slanders, and outright character assassinations obscure one all-important American truth: that variety is indeed the spice of life (AND our American melting pot).

I believe a lot of negotiating was done in regard to the new World Trade Center (now under construction), and I'm certain many diametrically opposed views of what should stand in that sacred spot were advanced. In the end, a decision was made which encompassed as many points of view as possible. The result, I think you will agree, is quite remarkable...and I have to believe that even those who supported other plans must be pleased with the spirit, at least, of this effort. I hope you will enjoy these photographs chronicling its construction to date. I also hope, as you scroll through them, that you will reflect with me upon these words: "United we stand; divided we fall," remembering that unity begins with mutual respect––and a sincere belief that every point of view matters.

Artist's rendering of the new World Trade Center*

 This is what the new World Trade Center will look like when completed.

Pretty awe-inspiring, right? 

 I guess something about it just speaks to my heart.

 And it speaks to my sense of patriotism, too.

 There's something so "never, never, never give up" about this building.

 It says a lot about us as a nation.

 And it means a lot to us as a nation, too.

 It means we are not afraid to stand tall for what we believe,

 regardless of the obvious risk involved.

 It means we know how to keep our eyes and hearts on the big picture,

 even when the fruits of terror and adversity lie at our feet.

It means we still know how to fight in ways that are not destructive,

 to rise above the troubles others may see fit to inflict upon us

and prove who we really are, first and last. Americans.

United We Stand. Divided, We Fall.

Let's move forward.
{together}

*All renderings are © Port Authority and the Durst Organization

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Not Yet a Bust

Big Room, 1948, Andrew Wyeth

 Not Yet a Bust

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

In the end, we left the room quite empty.

Cold, save for the errant ray

of day-old sun that filtered past the pane.

The brighter beams were gone or graying now.

Reprised in dust and shadow,

a sinking nod to joys that once had been.

But all was never lost, could not be lost.

Soft hints of sweetness lingered on the walls.

Distilled from cracks and faded spots of color,

where love and tears and memory remained.

I left a tray of fruit upon the table.

Summoned our childish voices once again.

∞§∞

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Back to School Days

The Little Red Schoolhouse by Larry Dyke

I couldn't quite get myself in the mode for Saturday Centus today, so I decided to post this year's back-to-school photos of my grandkids instead, along with a nostalgic little poem to serve as captions. Hope you enjoy Heather's handiwork as much as I did!

Each year, we all went back to school

reminded of the golden rule

by parents who expected much:

good manners, grades, and other such.

Some of us went off with a smile,

happy to go and stay awhile;

while some could only wear a frown,

as schoolwork dragged their spirits down.

But most were hoping for the best,

expecting they would pass each test,

and praying for a teacher who

would find good things for them to do.

Some worked real hard and thought a lot.

as teacher's pet, they earned their spot.

But others played around a bit...

made mischief, for the fun of it.

Still, all the kids were good at heart

and mostly glad for school to start!

(Even Mr. tough guy).

;)

These photos of my grandkids by Tendershootz Photography.

New (grand) Niece

 Our new grand-niece, Andelin Grace, just arrived.

Welcome to the world, Andelin!

Your grandpa is proud as proud can be.

 And your big brother, Sullivan, is excited too.

Everyone is so happy to welcome you into the family.

=)

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And the Winner Is...

The hubby - just an inch away from a hole in one.

But hey, at least he won the tournament!

 Of course, there was a small price to pay.

You've heard of the Master tourney's green jacket, right?

Well, my hubby's tournament has a jacket, too...a "special" red one.

 I think you can spot it on my man (a little right of center) in the chapel.

 You see, the prize comes with a penalty.

You have to wear it to church the first Sunday after winning!

Please note that the loverly patch boasts three stars, 
not all of which you can see in the last picture.
These were added by Ada, one of the "proud" wives.
(The jacket itself was purchased at a thrift local store.)

;)

Ahhh, sweet victory!

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