Saying my final goodbye gave me no comfort . . .


I had to fly to Roanoke, VA to say a final goodbye to my younger Sister. She represents the best of our clan. She also represents the best of America’s patriots. No she was never in the military.

She struggled economically even though she worked hard all her adult life. Part of the struggle was due to the fact she chose to sacrifice for others. My Sister derived pleasure by giving to those less fortunate even when it meant she would go without. She loved America and she found good in everyone she met. She represents, to me, what is good in America.

As I gazed around her very modest small home the kitchen was filled with doodads that represent America. The entire kitchen was in red, white and blue. One could not look in any direction without seeing Old Glory in some form. Our nephew who is a Chaplain in the Army his pictures taken, wearing his Army uniform, from multiple deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan were proudly displayed appropriately with Old Glory. I could not help making a contrast between her decorated kitchen and how we grew up in our America with that of America we are confronted with today.

Here I sat surrounded with Americana and the anger I felt with the experience I had flying back to Virginia. I listened to voices of my sisters and friends and they rang with pure Southern and my Southern accent returned quickly. The country food of my youth was warming and brought back great memories. Believe me that sitting in my Sister’s kitchen felt like a safe haven. I felt like I was in the old America that I knew. The flight experience to and from Virginia represented an America that was foreign in all respects.

My Sister was at peace with her inevitable fate. I on the other hand felt no peace, no acceptance of going on without her in my life. I also was not feeling at ease with my perception that we were losing our America.

My trip experience to Virginia began in Phoenix, Arizona. I am sixty-eight and have a neurological disorder that varies widely during the course of a day. Mornings are worse. My body simply will not cooperate. My speech is impaired and my coordination is non-existent.

The first hurdle my partner and I experienced was getting me through security. She had an uneventful check in zip right on through. I on the other hand spent twenty minutes of hands on search while others watched. My wheelchair was subjected to intense scrutiny.

Skip on to a transfer of planes at the Detroit International Airport. I felt as though we had flown to the Middle East. Could be Jihadist working everywhere. My government felt it necessary to treat me with a heightened sense of security yet the “could be Jihadist” were paraded around with security badges. I have to tell you I felt betrayed by my country.

What happened that DHS directed security did not have the ability to discern that I was not a threat to my fellow Americans nor to my country and instead paraded “could be Jihadist” in my face as well other American sovereigns? Where these “could be Jihadist” the homegrown terrorist that DHS talks about? Or was it me who loved my country viewed by my government to be the homegrown terrorist?

As I sat waiting for our next flight I watched many black Americans sweeping floors, emptying garbage cans and pushing carts to clean the bathrooms. I wondered if they too felt betrayed by their government? I thought were they  angry with their President? What change did he bring to them? I wondered if they viewed the change his administration brought to them was the hiring of “could be Jihadist” in better job positions?

I asked myself would the black Americans shuffling along sweeping the floors and emptying the garbage vote again for Barack Hussein Obama? My answer to my own question was sadly yes they would. As futile a thought they would because they needed to believe that hope would come.

While in the Detroit airport I also witnessed a significant number of black women traveling who were dressed in burqa like clothing. I never heard one of them speak therefore I was left with imagining that they were local black women converted to Islam. That thought gave me chills.

When we arrived in Virginia we were treated to a soft rain, smell of green grass, lush green trees, Southern accents and warm embraces of family. For a fleeting moment I forgot Detroit International Airport. The “could be Jihadist” were for that moment forgotten.

I felt I had to make the trek to Virginia if I wanted to see my Sister one more time. I knew it would be difficult. I promised my partner that I would push through it all. When we arrived back in Arizona I swore not to subject myself to that experience again.

Sitting on my front porch today I contemplated what it meant to give up my freedoms as an American sovereign to travel by air. While I feel that is my only option that is a very sad choice. I recalled some number of years ago looking for a home to buy in Oakland, CA. We saw a beautiful home and I caught myself saying to my partner “look it already has bars on the windows!”. That my friends was a statement of insanity taking over common sense. I had better options back then and I chose to purchase in a safer neighborhood. The parallel between giving up flying and “bars on the windows” feels somewhat the same to me. There is a one significant difference though while I could decide to buy a home in a different neighborhood I have no control when flying to not be subjected to mistreatment and Nazi like security performed at the behest of DHS.

I wonder what these new immigrants will do with the gift our national government is giving to them? I honestly do not have the intestinal fortitude to ponder the answer to this question.

I heard Obama in a speech today say, and I paraphrase “We must stop saying we are at war with Islam!”. Excuse me Obama you and your progressives may not be but the heart that ticks in this homeland understands that we are in the fight for the soul of America.

I fear what lies ahead for America’s next generation. My Sister’s home represented true patriotic values. My home proudly flies the Don’t Tread on Me flag. What flag or doodads will adorn the homes of these new visitors to our homeland? In thirty years will there be anyone left that will care about Old Glory? Will America’s military fighting on foreign soil be allowed to fly Old Glory? Will the soldiers of Christian faith be allowed to carry their small bibles in their uniform pockets? Will they have to protect at their own peril the “could be Jihadist” bending in prayer to Allah? Would the “could be Jihadist” protect the American soldier praying on his knees?

Will the Southern accents so familiar and welcoming disappear?  Will neighbors actually be able to communicate with each other? I suspect there will be no melting pot. Sovereigns will always  be subjected to a heightened state of security. We sovereigns will be subjected to more assaults on our liberty and for what? Will we always live in fear of our new neighbor? Will our laws be changed to accommodate their culture? Will the sovereign be subjected to harassment while these new immigrants walk more free? Will the sovereign be allowed to fly Old Glory or the Don’t Tread on Me flag?

This new foreigner from the Middle East and Southeast Asia as well our government are not the sovereigns friend, they are in my opinion our and our country’s enemy.