Small Town Patriotism

I was born in a small town in South Georgia. The people there are as united in their patriotism and religion as any place I have ever been. That said, I am confident it is no different from thousands of other small towns in America where God and country come first with family a close second. When America is in trouble, these are the towns first to send their youth to places where they will be in harm’s way. And they do so mostly without question, even enthusiastically in some cases, in the tradition of their fathers and grandfathers before them.

When leaders declare war, these are the bedrock solid defenders of the republic who answer the call and do not question the decision. And if you asked them, they would reply that they do not know enough, in their estimation, to make a different decision. Men in positions of power from somewhere else, endowed with great insight and political genius, no doubt, had made the decision and so it must be done. They must march off to war…any war…every war.

Small towns are left behind to suffer, and the residents do so together. As soon as it becomes known that so-and-so family down the street has “lost” a son or daughter, the fried chicken and potato salad show up with apple pies right behind them. A single loss is everyone’s loss.

I think of them every time I read a list of the fallen from the Iraq War because most of the fallen come from the small towns of America I know well, where “my country is still my country, right or wrong.” Small towns do not cause war but they pay the price of war. They pay it directly…over and over.

When a soldier dies in a far off land, he or she may die in front of others who knew them only as comrades-in-arms, who selflessly lifted the weight of war to their shoulders every day. As tragic as the death is and as deeply felt as it is among the comrades, the true death of a soldier occurs at kitchen tables across the nation, one kitchen table at a time. One at a time, kitchen tables hear the news, families are devastated, neighbors are saddened, and sweethearts cry. All bear the grief, and silently, these left behind patriots salute the country’s leadership, sing “God Bless America,” and if asked, prepare to send another generation off to duty. Without question. That is the depth of their patriotism, their love of this country, their respect for the office of the President.

Or so it seems.

This year, the mood of these patriots is different. Most of them can be counted among the 82 percent who believe the country is off track. This November, these patriots across America plan to demonstrate with their votes that they will not blindly follow again those who intentionally lie and deceive fellow citizens, who pursue war for their own ideological or political reasons, who give up so easily the blood of America’s future, those they often address but silently disdain at the beginning of speeches with the words “My fellow Americans...”

This time, this November, it will be different. The silence of each vote cast – electronically or by paper ballot – will send a deafening message to Washington that veritably shouts, “This is our republic; we will defend it at all costs but always, and only, in a cause that is just.” And a new generation of leaders will take heed – we pray, for more than a brief time – and commit to the inviolability of the trust that has been bestowed upon them.