The Pledge of Allegiance

Dear Boo and Bubble:

It’s funny how you can learn about things in a serendipitous way.  We were watching a movie last night entitled “The Congressman.”  Hadn’t heard of it…..just randomly picked it from our selections as they scrolled across the television screen on either Amazon or Netflix.  The cast was unfamiliar, but the rating sufficient that we decided to try it out. 

As the story unfolded, we learned that the male protagonist is an ex-Marine who had seen combat in Viet Nam.  Like many in his generation, he came home (to Maine in this case) and ultimately offered to serve the country once again as an elected official.  When the movie begins, he is in his eighth term, seeking re-election to a ninth.  The pressures of Congress have taken their toll – his marriage is ending; he exhibits the war-weariness that skirmishes over issues can bring; and the desire to do good for the sake of his constituents has long faded to a distant memory because of the rigors required in making himself available to them, all with very little appreciation for or gratitude towards his efforts. 

There are several tangents to the plot, but one of the main threads centers around his relationship to the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag.  When it is discovered by an opposition candidate that he does not stand nor hold his hand over his heart nor recite the Pledge when the House of Representatives goes into session, she exploits these actions (or lack thereof) to incriminate him and try to have him expelled from the body.  After meeting with constituents at one of his local offices in Maine, he is confronted by her about this -  along with a very vocal group of followers…. and the media.

It’s at this juncture when I learned something I had never known.  Let me digress by explaining that I have uttered the Pledge of Allegiance all my life – in school, at political events, sporting events, family reunions, church.  I’ve placed my right hand over my heart on each occasion.  I spoke the words and covered my heart automatically, without question or challenge, perhaps understanding the significance of both but having no knowledge of the history behind either one.  I guess I just always assumed the Pledge came in the same literary package as the Bill of Rights and the Constitution….that the Founding Fathers intended this from the very formation of our country….so much so that I had never had the first inkling of intellectual curiosity about it…..and shame on me.  Thanks to “The Congressman,” I now know.

As the confrontational scene in front of his office unfolds, a reporter from a local television station presses the Congressman about his stance on the Pledge. His answer reveals several bits of information including the original composer, a man named Francis Bellamy, and the original salute to the flag – right arm straight out and extended toward the flag.  I wondered at the time if this could possibly be just creative license or -  were these actual facts?

We continued to watch the movie until its end.  The emotional crescendo for me came when the Congressman faces a vicious crowd of constituents at a local high school and proceeds to defend his actions regarding the Pledge - as well as offer up one of the most eloquent definitions of American freedom I have ever heard – the very freedom which he volunteered to protect and preserve as a Marine. His soliloquy leaves his audience in awe as they stand, cheer and applaud him.  They don’t know it, but he has chosen not to seek re-election.    

Afterwards, I couldn’t get the whole Pledge conundrum out of my mind and I decided to do some research.  And, guess what?  His recitation about its history is spot on.  And so, it is incumbent upon me to keep you from being as ignorant as I have been all these years.  Therefore, I will lay out an historical timeline on our Pledge of Allegiance.  Some who read this might be just as surprised as I am to find out where it all started.

The Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag of the United States

In a nutshell, The Pledge of Allegiance was originally composed by Colonel George Balch in 1887, and later revised by Francis Bellamy in 1892 and formally adopted by Congress as the pledge in 1942. The official name of The Pledge of Allegiance was adopted in 1945. The last change in language came on Flag Day in 1954 when the words "under God" were added.

There have been four versions over time:

1892: “I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

1892 to 1823: “I pledge allegiance to my Flag and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.”

1923 to 1954: “I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

1954 to current: “I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.”

The very first Pledge was written by Colonel George Balch and went like this: “We give our heads and hearts to God and our country; one country, one language, one flag.”  A Civil War veteran, he was a strong proponent of teaching children, especially those of immigrants, loyalty to the United States.  He had many supporters for his Pledge early on such as the Daughters of the American Revolution.  His Pledge existed (in parallel to that of Francis Bellamy) until the 1923 National Flag Conference.

The Pledge of Allegiance, as it exists today, was originally composed by Francis Bellamy in August, 1892.  He was a Baptist minister and a Christian socialist who was the cousin of socialist utopian novelist Edward Bellamy.  Bellamy did not approve of Balch’s Pledge because he thought it “too juvenile and lacking in dignity.”  His “Pledge of Allegiance” was first published in the popular children’s magazine The Youth’s Companion as part of a national public school celebration of the 400^th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’s arrival in the Americas.

Bellamy’s original Pledge read: “I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”  He wanted it to be quick and to the point and designed it to be recited in 15 seconds.  As a socialist, he had considered using the words equality and fraternity, but decided against it.  At the time, there was great resistance against equality for women and African Americans within the state superintendents of education on the committee to organize the Columbus Day festivities

Whether with the Balch Pledge or the Bellamy Pledge, there was always an accompanying salute.  Balch had students stand with their right hand outstretched toward the flag, the fingers then brought to the forehead and then being placed flat over the heart and finally falling to the side.  Bellamy instituted a salute that started with the hand outstretched toward the flag, palm down, and ended with the palm up.  When Adolf Hitler came to power in Germany and the Nazi salute arose to prominence, the United States Congress, in 1942, prescribed the over the heart gesture for both the Pledge and the National Anthem which eliminated the Bellamy Salute.

The phrase "under God" was incorporated into the Pledge of Allegiance on June 14, 1954, by a Joint Act of Congress amending Paragraph 4 of the Flag Code enacted in 1942.  Although the initiative to have this phrase include in the Pledge began with the efforts of the Knights of Columbus, a religious fraternal order, it came at a time when the United States was heavily entrenched in the "Cold War" with Communist Russia and some have construed it as an attempt to distinguish American society from that of Russia.

Sunrise in Tikal

Dear Boo and Bubble,

The other day, I was copying articles off of our website Life's Story.  We started it years ago when Captain and I were cruising on our sailboat UpJinks and the company that hosts it informed me that our time had expired which means the site will no longer be available in the future.  I wanted to preserve our stories and pictures for posterity thinking that someday you might enjoy knowing about our travels, the people we met and the places we saw.  

It was such fun going through them and reminiscing.  I thought maybe it would be fun to share some with you on The Bridge Project from time to time.  This particular entry came from a visit we made to the Tikal National Park in Guatemala.  Tikal is one of the largest of all Mayan ruins in Central America.  The Mayan civilization began in 2000 BC and continued until the Spanish conquest in 1697.  It was a culture famous for its ceremonial temples and system of time that functioned more accurately than any we have today.  

We went to the park with our good friends Susan and Tom Heyward.  Reading it brings back such an incredible memory.

Sunrise in Tikal

We awoke at 4:00 AM.  By 4:30, we were hiking with our guide, Nixon, through the jungle of Tikal National Park to the site of Temple 4, the tallest structure of the Mayan ruins.  Above us, first light began to systematically extinguish the stars and the canopy above us became hauntingly silhouetted against the now lightening sky.  A howler monkey roared somewhere in the distance, creating a cascade of responses from a variety of birds registering their complaint at having been disturbed.

By the time we reached the base of the temple, it was 5:30.  Sunrise was at 6:05.  We struggled with the steep 160-foot climb on an inclined ladder constructed up the side, taking us to the base of the roof comb – which extended upward another 60-70 feet.  Once there, we found a spot on the lowest of a series of steps.  The others in our group sat higher up, so our view was unobstructed.

The panorama of muted colors stretched as far as the eye could see, over the tips of temples 1, 2 and 5, across the jungle to an area totally submerged in fog.  A craggy ridge of clouds rose from the mountain range at the horizon, distinguishable only because the mountains were a darker shade of grey.

A gentle murmur circulated around us as the spectators chatted with each other.

Right on cue, a glimmer appeared at the top center of the clouds.  Then it spread along the edge of the cloud to the right and left.  It was as if someone initially lit a brush fire in the center and it began to catch hold, racing along the top, finally becoming so hot that it spilled over like lava through the body of the cloud.

The fiercely red bulb of the sun momentarily appeared in a break between the bottom of the cloud and the top of the mountains, as if checking to make sure it wanted to come up at all.  

 

A moment later, the orb broke through the top of the clouds and, in only a few seconds, was too intense to view with the unshaded eye.

For billions of years, this routine of nature has repeated itself every morning, awakening the sleeping inhabitants of an unsuspecting jungle.  In most instances it is taken for granted ……. unless seen in such an exceptional circumstance as this.  When you do witness the sunrise at Temple 4, you can't help but sense the vastness of the universe and somehow are confronted with your insignificance in it.    

Over My Dead Body

Dear Boo and Bubble,

My goodness, it’s been such a long time since I wrote to you! A combination of things, I guess – busy end to all our warm weather activities here on Sugar Mountain….. and some civic duties and……perhaps…..sometimes (if you can imagine) Meemaw just not having anything to impart.  Last night, however, another memory was uncorked and I couldn’t wait to share it with you.  What, you might ask, happened last night and what could it possibly have to do with The Bridge Project?  Well…it was the white-knuckled, teeth gritting, breath holding, extra innings barnburner of a seventh game of the 2016 World Series – which the Chicago Cubs finally won ending a championship drought of 108 years……and the sight of former Cincinnati Reds baseball player Pete Rose as a commentator on Fox Sports Network……and your great grandmother Mary.

I have chronicled for you before the importance of baseball in our family (“The World Series” – Nov. 3, 2012) and I’ve also explained to some degree Mamaw Mary’s feelings  (“1974-#755” – August 30, 2013), but I don’t think I’ve made it quite clear enough just how passionate …..dare I say obsessive….or fanatical ….she was about the game.

While growing up at 3 Lakecrest, I can remember every year during baseball season – after the supper dishes were done and family responsibilities completed – Mamaw would take to her rocking chair in the corner of the kitchen where she kept a basket full of knitting yarn and needles.  Nestled in the yarn was a transistor radio with a set of earbuds attached.  Before she began furiously clicking the needles to make either a blanket or booties for someone’s newborn baby, she would turn the dial of the transistor until she found the broadcast of a baseball game somewhere on the East coast.  She didn’t really care who might be playing, she just wanted to listen.  As the evening progressed and the East coast games concluded, she searched the airwaves for those that were beginning in the heartland.  Many a time, she tiptoed down the hall to the master bedroom – where Granddaddy Schaefer had been comatose for hours – at 3-4 in the morning after the last West coast game went off the air.

When the Braves moved to Atlanta and became the closest professional team, she adopted them as her own and rooted for them through bad times and good.  She had a bumper sticker on her Volkswagen that read “I was a Brave Before the Braves were Cool” and, truth be known, she is buried with two Braves tickets underneath the pillow in her coffin where she eternally rests her head.

Mamaw grew up in Houston, TX, and cut her baseball teeth on the likes of Jerome Herman “Dizzy” Dean who pitched in the National League for the St. Louis Cardinals and the Chicago Cubs.  He holds the distinction to this day of being the last National League pitcher to win 30 games in a season.  He became a commentator after his career and Mamaw loved to listen to any game that he might broadcast.

To say that she was a purist about the sport would be an understatement.  She particularly admired that it was a game unaffected by a clock – where it was literally never over until it actually was – and she enjoyed the strategies of sacrifice flies and bunts and intentional walks and stolen bases.  The rules of the game were sacred and, with each player individually exposed in the field, their triumphs and debacles alike laid bare for all to witness, she felt they were very hard to break.  I guess, perhaps, that would be the best word to describe Mamaw’s feeling – sacred.

Enter Peter Edward “Pete” Rose Sr. to the game of baseball.  He began his professional career in 1963 and quickly was dubbed the moniker of “Charlie Hustle” for his abilities.  Over the span of 23 years, Rose amassed a record of accomplishment that is unparalleled to this day – all-time leader in hits with 4,256; games played at 3,562; at bats of 14,053; and a total of 3,215 singles.  He won three World Series rings with the Cincinnati Reds and made 17 All-Star appearances playing five different positions – second base, left fielder, right fielder, third baseman and first baseman.  

He was the epitome of a baseball player with the charisma to match his monstrous skill.  The entire nation reveled in his success, but Mamaw Mary was not among them.  She hated his brashness….his contempt towards the opponent and the umpires…his cocky attitude.  His ego was anathema to her.  While everybody else cheered, she surreptitiously pulled for whomever the Reds played.  If she could have willed lightening to strike, I think she would have, which made the whole situation almost comical because it went totally against her normal loving, caring, understanding nature.  And your great, great Uncle Bob Poerschke, if he were still alive, could attest that all you had to do to get Mamaw riled up was to mention Pete Rose’s name.  Any talk of his presumed induction into the MLB Hall of Fame was met with an unapologetic “over my dead body.”

Pete Rose retired from baseball in 1986.  Mamaw Mary died on April 4, 1987.  In August of 1989, with a great sense of irony and affirmation of Mamaw’s instincts, it came to light that Rose had gambled on baseball games while both playing for and managing the Cincinnati Reds, including bets on his own team.  In light of that, he had to agree to a permanent ineligibility from baseball and in 1991, the MLB Hall of Fame formally voted to ban those on the “permanently ineligible” list from induction.

Although there is always some talk about lifting this ban on Pete Rose, I bet it will never happen.  Unfortunately for him, Mamaw Mary is and always will be dead.  Maybe ….. just maybe …. if there is a resurrection at the Judgment Day, he’ll have a chance.