Rick Monday’s Save of the American Flag
Happy Fourth of July!
Though I share Roger Simon’s gloom about the state of the nation. Skipping lightly over the heavyweight matters of the hour, on the simplest level I just didn’t have the heart today to go to a replay of the small town Independence Day Parade we went to last year — which featured firetrucks, tractors and a congressman throwing candy to the kids, but amid the thumping rock and disco music somehow neglected to include a single patriotic song. No God Bless America, no Yankee Doodle, no Star-Spangled Banner. None of those stirring words, “Stand beside her, and guide her,” no reminders to “Let Freedom Ring.” No moment when the crowd stood to attention to honor the astounding creation of this republic, Land of the Free, and the immense bounty that has flowed from its founding principles, that we are endowed not by the government, but by our Creator, with the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Did they forget? Do they not care?
Yet, I think millions upon millions of Americans do care. My hunch is that if someone had thought to play the national anthem, that crowd would have loved it. I think if someone had stepped up to the microphone to sing “God Bless America,” the crowd would have joined in, and I even believe some would have had tears in their eyes. I would wager that among the families lining the curbs to see the parade roll by were veterans who fought for this country, and people willing to do a great many things, both mundane and heroic, to preserve America’s freedoms. This is not solely a matter of sending a message via the ballot box. It is also a matter of reviving a culture in which we produce leaders fit to meet the immense challenges, both within our borders, and beyond, to the principles of liberty and law on which this amazing country has been built.
Two video clips in that spirit follow on the next page.
Interesting thing about the flag with Rick Monday. For whatever reason, maybe because it happened here, who knows, it resonated more with Los Angeles than with Chicago. He was a Cub when it happened (they were visiting) but the Dodgers acquired him a year or so later, and he’s stayed…he’s currently one of their broadcasters, and I would guess along with Vin Scully and Fernando Valenzuela (who does color commentary in Spanish alongside longtime Spanish-language play-by-play man Jaime Jarrin) Monday’s probably the guy with the best job security in the broadcasting staff.
It was a nice moment, and the guy deserves the kudos…
Not only all that other good stuff Rick did, but my dad was at Oakland one night when he hit one into the iceplant in center field. I don’t think Reggie Jackson ever did that.
While there are obviously deep fissures, between those who seek rescuing in the arms of ‘papa Obama’s’ big gov’t embrace, and those who don’t, there are many more who seek solace in traditional values. Moreover, there are scores in between who feel the same as identified Conservatives do,but are too beaten back to react viscerally.
Please check out my newly created blog, http://www.adinakutnicki.com, where my running commentary, as well as my op-eds reflect such ideas, simply scroll down my HOME section. I update the site as events warrant.
Most importantly, I relate to the reader the many similarities, between those who adhere to American Conservative values, and those who abide by Zionist core values. Similarly, I expose the parallels between American leftists and Israeli leftists, one and the same.
Know this, there is not an option to give up. Doing so will allow the other side to win. Never!
Your point is an important one. The left takes a long term view. We need to do the same.
South American leftists remind each other “La Lucha Continua” or “The Struggle Continues”.
Hardened leftists use this expression to remind the career leftist organizers that the road will be long and hard.
The statists will never go away and we will need to fight them now and forever.
The small-town parade I went to yesterday was satisfyingly patriotic. Before the parade there is a flag-raising and a local talented high-schooler sings the National Anthem; people take off their hats and put their hands on their hearts. Lots of floats with military themes, and the veterans get lots of applause; people who were sitting stand at attention when the vets go by. And there are Minutemen in their garb with their muskets; each town’s Minutemen has its own signifying emblem worn in the hat–our town uses a pine sprig, the Lexington Minutemen have turkey feathers, I noticed. Several of the marching bands played the Battle Hymn and most of the songs are patriotic rather than from the world of entertainment. And this year there were two floats dedicated to religious freedom!
Words cannot express my thanks for your essay, Ms. Rossett. I was totally unfamiliar with Monday’s terrific save, and will share this clip with many friends and family.
Not sure when I’ll be able to pony up the fortitude to watch the second one. It seems to take more than I have right now–I cut and ran as soon as the strains of music began.
At the end of my brother’s funeral, suddenly the parish organist, an ancient, wizened, post-stroke victim with a horribly disfigured face, who’s tiny body seemed incapable of the act, broke into a thundering rendition of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” He had always been a favorite of hers, and everyone knew this was a spontaneous tribute that poured from her heart. The rafters shook.
A faithful altar boy from grade school through college, he never turned down a last minute request to fill in for a no-show, and it seems hard to believe now, but more than once during our formidable winters, my Dad would carry him on his shoulders down the middle of the road the several miles to church to fulfill this obligation, if driving was impossible. Sometimes the only people there were the priest, the tiny organist (who lived across the street from the church), and my brother and father.
Once while serving in Germany, although intelligence was not his branch, he somehow volunteered for some kind of clandestine mission behind the Berlin Wall. On the way back, on the run with soldiers in pursuit, he ripped an East German flag from a building and managed to bring it with him. It became my Dad’s most treasured possession.
We never knew any details of this mission, except to learn that as soon as he’d recovered physically, he was told to put on his dress uniform and flown to DC, where he found himself being driven to the White House for a brief thank you and hand shake from Kennedy. The only thing he remembered from the encounter was his deep embarrassment at being so dazed that the escort finally had to tug at his sleeve to signal it was time to leave.
He had a commanding physical presence and was the classic big man who uses his natural physical advantages on behalf of others. Folks looked up to him both literally and figuratively. Despite the fact that he was handsome and popular, and I was the shy and Ugly Duckling far longer than most, he was always protective and never ashamed of me in front of his friends. Because of his example, they treated me with kindness too. Having lived through the death of two moms, we shared a bond that was transcendent. I always knew I would be safe if was alive anywhere on earth, and the world altered irreparably for me the day he was killed.
The manner of death was hard on everyone—a helicopter crash in Viet Nam. His rings were charred. I became expert at thought-stopping. I take hope from reports from NDE survivors that seem to indicate that, especially in cases where the means is violent, “…the soul leaves the body as a boy jumps out of a school door. That is, suddenly, and with joy.”
My response to flag desecrators, though rarely if ever espressed, is volcanic. But after many years I have come to feel sorry for anyone of whom it can be said, “Breathes there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself has said, ‘This be my own, my native land.’” It seems unlikely they have ever known the glory of passionate attachments, and for that, I pity them.
Ma’am- You and your family will be included in the daily prayers of me and mine from this day onward. May the peace of our Lord be with you and those you love, by the power of His Holy Spirit. Amen! Love, Daniel
My heart to you, Daniel!
And may the blessings of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit descend upon you, and abide with you, forever and ever! Amen.
I will return those prayers!
Rick Monday’s “pick up” from the field: One of the best plays in all of Baseball!
The Dodger Stadium scoreboard operator flashed, “Rick Monday – You Made a Great Play!” after he snatched the flag from peril. Not bad for a visiting Cubbie.
As a Dodger he’s perhaps best-known for breaking all of Montreal’s heart with a 9th-inning homer off the Expos’ Steve Rogers in the deciding game of the 1981 NL pennant.
In the 70′s-80′s when I was in school, we were taught that an individual’s rights only extended to the tip of their nose; my rights only extend to the point that they do not INFRINGE UPON YOURS, or anyone else’s for that matter. I understand that the Supreme Court has listed flag burning as free speech that is protected under the 1st amendment, I disagree vehemently, but that’s what the court decided (obamacare is not the first thing they have screwed-up).
Thank God nobody has ever physically burned or otherwise defiled the Stars and Stripes in my presence because I do not think the judge would buy my temporary insanity defense. I would do everything within my physical power to stop the desecration, and if the defilers left it at that, everyone would be okay, but if they physically tried to stop me, well, there would definitely be trouble.
As a multiple-combat campaign veteran, I could not just stand by and allow some misguided, dumbass, ignorant, America-hating, occupying whatever, dirtbag hippie bastard to trash the very symbol that too many of my personal friends and I fought, bled and died for. It aint going to happen.
God bless you Rick Monday and for all the old-fashioned, patriotic Americans who still hold our flag in the highest regard and esteem. I am proud to call you countrymen, brothers and friends.
I am in Afghanistan and the subject is blocked, if I see this correctly, the ball player rescued a U.S. flag from being burned by worthless dregs, am I correct?
To Skip in Afghanistan: Yes, Skip! Hello! Greetings to you and your buddies over there. We’re praying for you over on this end, okay? Please don’t ever forget that. You pray, too. God will listen to every word — even before you speak them. Yes, this story is about a former baseball player named Rick Monday. He was quick thinking and quick on his feet when some idiots decided to burn a U.S. flag during a game — now many years ago. He rescued the flag and the fans in the statium (and watching on TV) cheered him for this act. I think that this occurred probably well before you were born.
It is good of this author to remember this event. We must hope that our present day athletes have this same reverence and respect for our nation’s symbol.
Meanwhile we are all very grateful for you and your unit, what you are doing. Stay safe. Eat well. Rest well when you can. Write your Mother — frequently, like weekly. Real letters that go in envelopes. Not just emails or Skyping. And come home safe and make sure your battle buddies all come home safe, too. THANKS.