Challenger Deep

“Papa, Wally Hunt at the Cape. How long can you hold your breath under water? Call me back when you get my message. It’s urgent.” That was the message I received when I got back from my daily surf at the beach, and found my cell where I had left it on the kitchen countertop. As soon as I got the message I returned the call. “Hello Wally, it’s Papa. Your message sounded important. What’s going on at the Cape?” “It’s not the Cape Papa; it’s what’s going on in the world. I guess you haven’t heard? North Korea launched a long range ICBM, a Taepodong-3 towards California about two hours ago. It was intercepted by a surface to air missile fired from the USS Port Royal (CG 73) fifteen minutes into flight. The rocket and its payload dropped into the Pacific Ocean somewhere southeast of the Marianas Islands. We need you at the Cape as soon as you can get here.” I put the cell in my pocket without even saying goodbye. Wally would know I was on my way. I sped by the security gate and straight to Building 1. Wally and his staff were gathered and I was briefed.
“Commander Pennebaker, the President of the United States has asked you to do your country a great favor. The President knows you are retired, and that you are only one of a handful of people in the world who can navigate the United States Navy bathyscaphe, Alvin-2, to the bottom of the ocean in search of the Korean missile that was intercepted today. Your knowledge of the Alvin-2 would be invaluable in a search and recovery mission of the Taepodong-3 if you will accept the challenge.” Alvin-2, I thought to myself? Why the Alvin-2? It’s only function is to dive to depths unattainable by any other form of submersible. “Wally, are you telling me that the Korean missile is in the Marianas Trench?” “Yes, I’m afraid that’s correct Papa. Our sounding instruments have placed it in a crater of the Marianas Trench. Not only that, it’s in the deepest recesses of the trench. It’s at the bottom of Challenger Deep.” I knew the Challenger Deep. It is thirty six thousand feet below sea level…the deepest surveyed point in the ocean. Pressures there are over one thousand times greater than at sea level. I had worked in the development of the Alvin-2 at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution before entering the space program in the late 1970’s. That is precisely why I was summoned.
I knew all about the quirkiness of the submersible, the groaning sounds it makes when it drops below twenty thousand feet, its functional capabilities, and the danger of a mishap. “OK, Wally, but why retrieve the missile? “Papa, U.S. satellite images and CIA intelligence indicates the North had transported its most advanced long-range missile to the new Dongchang-ni facility near China. Those same satellite images show the North fitted the ICBM with a questionable nuclear payload. We think the intent of the North Korean government was to start a nuclear war with the United States. The trajectory of the missile would have had it landing somewhere just east of San Francisco. Our Navy intercepted it before it slammed into the bay area of California. If that had occurred, hundreds of thousands of innocent people would have died. Of course North Korea is denying it was a nuclear payload. It is imperative that our government retrieve the missile and its nuclear payload intact before the Koreans and their Chinese allies do. Are you clear?” “I’m as clear as the waters off of Cocoa Beach Wally. Count me in.”
With no time to waste I found myself suited up and being escorted to the runway where the Lapin Blanc was waiting for me to climb aboard. Oh yeah…the Lapin Blanc; that sweet little lady with the twin Kretchmar turbo boosters. I would find myself at Andersen Air Force Base in Guam within half an hour. This was going to be a wickedly cool ride.
Three, two, one…blastoff. The familiar five G’s of crush…being pushed back into the form fitting leather seat of the Lapin, then the familiar blue to black of space and the stars in the heads up display were so déjà vu as I had just done this same type liftoff only three weeks prior on a search and rescue trip to the Van Allen Belt to assist in bringing home Sam. Sam…I wonder how she is and what NASA has her doing now? She’s probably getting a little rest and relaxation after that near disaster in space. She would be jealous as hell if she knew I was behind the throttle of this magnificent machine. I could still feel her in the seat sitting next to me. Her scent, her amber color still lingering in the confines of the Lapin’s cockpit. Just as soon as those thoughts began to fade I started my descent. I could see the entire island of Guam come into view with its runways approaching at two thousand miles per hour. Then the sound of the air traffic control came through, “Commander, welcome to Guam. You are clear for runway seven. A CH-47 Chinook is waiting to take you out to the USS Port Royal.” The screech of the Lapin’s tires upon the hot asphalt runway brought me back to reality. I suddenly wished I was back in the seat as a fighter pilot. I kissed the Lapin goodbye and boarded the Chinook for a fifteen minute flight out to the deck of the Port Royal which was on station. The US Survey Ship Kilo Moana was also standing by carrying with it the bathyscaphe Alvin-2. The Chinook set me down upon the fantail of the USS Port Royal, and from there I was escorted to the ready room where the Captain and his officers were anxious to brief me on the operation.
“Commander Pennebaker, you’ll be guided by radio and sonar transmission to the Taepodong-3 from the communication station on board the Kilo Moana. Your communications officer will be one of your NASA counterparts. I believe you know Lieutenant Sam Abjelina?” My mind went numb. Could it have been the quick flight over in the Lapin, maybe pulling too many G’s in such a short period of time? No…it’s Sam. That’s what it was. Her name coming up again and again in my life, it was more than kismet I thought, it was destined to be.
“Yes sir Skipper, I know Lieutenant Abjelina well. We go way back, all the way back to her college days at UC Berkeley. I would be honored to have her navigate me down to the Challenger Deep and back.” With that Sam entered the ready room and we gave each other that ‘keep the rabbit going’ smile. 'KTRG', short for 'keep the rabbit going'. It's a phrase I used with Sam when I was her flight instructor at NASA. I used it to push her past what she thought she could handle, and it worked. As the Skipper stood to exit the room, the junior officer attending shouted “Attention on deck.” Everyone sharply stood at attention as the Skipper exited. As the door to the room closed, I gave Sam a hug and then I was quickly escorted to the Alvin-2 to prepare for my dive to the Challenger Deep.
Suiting up for a dive in the Alvin was much different that readying for a space flight. At NASA it took at least one hour to put on a space suit, check for air compromise, and go through all the system checks of the suit itself. Suiting up for a deep dive was a matter of slipping into a one piece body suit. A suit made of lightweight gortex that zipped up the front. So lightweight in fact that it felt as though you were wearing nothing. Simple, functional, heat conserving; it reminded me of my body suit that I used for surfing the waters off of Cocoa Beach.
As I climbed into the Alvin and re-familiarized myself with its instrumentation and robotic arm, I got my first sound test from my navigator who was on board the Kilo Moana.
“Papa, it’s Sam. Are you ready to get this done?” Her words settled my uneasiness. If there was anyone that I would have chosen for this job, it would be her. She was smart, and tough as nails. I don’t know where she got her toughness from, but I’m guessing she had something happen in her younger years that developed that toughness. I never asked, but someday if she wants to tell me I would be there for her to listen. I owe her that. I wonder what she would think if she knew about the tattoo? “I’m ready Sam, let’s begin the descent.”
Thirty six thousand feet to go I thought as the Alvin was lowered into the water by the massive steel crane and steel cable that was my lifeline to the research ship Kilo Moana.
The tether cable’s rate of ascent and descent is approximately 10 miles per hour. That meant in 42 minutes the Alvin would be on the bottom of the ocean, a depth of thirty six thousand feet. Hopefully Sam will guide me right on top of the Taepodong-3. From there I would simply connect a retrieval cable to the missile with the help of the Alvin’s robotic arm and then the missile and its payload would be raised from the Challenger Deep.
“Papa, you are at one thousand feet and descending. Give me a systems check please.” "All systems are functioning properly Sam. Depth indicator checks at one thousand feet, submersible lighting system is turning on now.” As the submersible dropped silently deeper still, I could make out the faint groans of the metal plates compressing against each other as the atmospheric pressure of the ocean began to crush against Alvin’s steel hull. “Papa, ten thousand feet.” “Roger, Sam, ten thousand feet and all systems go for search and retrieval.” The surrounding environment was pitch black outside the range of the submersible’s lighting system. Occasionally a squid or small strange looking fish would come up to peer at the Alvin. I’m sure they thought I was just as curious looking as I thought they were.
“Papa you are at twenty thousand feet and descending. How is everything aboard?” “All systems are go Sam.” Then it happened. A loud groan from the Alvin, and then a deafening BANG! “Sam, come in Sam. Did you get that on your end? Did you hear that Bang?” “Papa, what happened? Yes, I heard it, as did almost everyone in the communications room. Are you OK?” Surveying the Alvin quickly for damage I could immediately see what caused the sound. “Sam, the glass porthole to the starboard side has cracked. No water intrusion, just a linear crack from top to bottom” “Papa, I don’t know if the mission needs to be aborted. Let me consult with the Skipper. I’ll be back to you within the minute. Papa, the mission is a go, but if you begin getting water intrusion into the cabin, the mission will be scrubbed and the Alvin will be raised. Do you copy?” “Roger that Sam. I’m all in. We only have twenty more minutes until we reach the floor. Let’s roll.”
Within fifteen minutes I was twenty feet off the lowest point on earth. Sam had guided me safely to within feet of the missile. The Alvin’s submersible lighting system illuminated the floor of the trench, and I was right on top of the Taepodong-3 and its payload. “Sam, good work girl…you put the Alvin smack square on target. Don’t let me forget to take you to dinner in Manila when I get back.” I heard Sam laugh from almost seven miles above me. For me that was worth the whole mission, even better than getting back into the Lapin’s saddle. That laugh was my reward.
“OK, let’s get down to business. USS Port Royal, this is Commander Papa K. Pennebaker. Robotic arm deployed and retrieval cable connected to payload and missile. Navy research ship Kilo Moana, you are go to retrieve, I repeat you are go to retrieve and begin the ascent of the Alvin-2.” “Roger that Commander Pennebaker, initiating ascent of the Alvin. We’ll see you on board the Kilo Moana in forty one minutes.” “I’m coming home Sam, hope to see you on deck when I return.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world Papa, see you there.”
As the Alvin started slowly surfacing my ears were glued to the headphones, my connection to Sam, and my depth status. “Papa you are at twenty thousand feet and all is go. Please give me a status check.” Roger that Sam. System check good, wait….Sam, I see a tiny stream of water intrusion from the porthole crack. Looks like it’s a slow deliberate stream, nothing to worry about, but get me out of here as soon as possible. I don’t like the looks of it.” “Papa, I’ll keep constant communication with you for the remainder of the ascent. Let me know if anything unusual happens. You are within fifteen minutes of surfacing. “OK Sam, I’ll keep you on constant audio.” The next ten thousand feet was uneventful, Sam and I remained silent throughout those minutes then came Sam’s voice though the headphones. “Papa you are at ten thousand feet and ascending, please give me a status check, over.” A little more than ten minutes and I’ll be home I thought, and then the water began to pour in through the cracked porthole. “Sam! Sam! I’m in trouble, I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this one. Water coming in fast. Up to my knees…I can’t stop the water…Sam.” “Papa! Hold on! We’ll have you out of there in ten minutes. I know you can do it! Remember how you used to tell us when you were our instructor back at NASA that you could hold your breath for a full five minutes? Papa, I promise to get you out of this…I promise!”
“Engineering, crank up the retrieval. We need to get Papa to the surface. Dammit engineering, just do it!” The last words I said to Sam before the water entered my lungs were…..KTRG.”
The Alvin-2 surfaced seven minutes later, Alvin's cabin was filled with sea water, and I was strapped into the submersible's seat. I thought how strange it was that I was hovering above my body watching as the safety crew of the Kilo Moana unharnessed me from my chair and brought my body out and laid it on the deck. I could see Sam standing over me being very stoic, yet I knew she would cry later. I could see the ship’s medical officer unzip my body suit and expose my chest. That’s when Sam saw my tattoo. It read ~ELVIS IS KING~SAM IS MY HERO~ I wish she hadn’t seen it under these circumstances. I honestly had plans to show it to her someday. I got 'inked' right after the rescue three weeks ago. It was surprising to me that I could be embarrassed and dead all at the same time. This was really all a rather peaceful state I was in until the medic put the paddles to my chest and BAM! Hey, now that hurt! Then BAM! I heard him say “Stand back”, then BAM! Another jolt of electricity coursed through my body. Then simultaneously I heard Sam's dear departed Grandmother Natividad say, "Go back, you are not ready", and the medic shout "I have a pulse. Get Papa to medical ASAP!”
I awoke the following morning, back in my aging body with Sam standing over me crying. “Hello Gorgeous”, I said. “Welcome back Papa”, came her reply. “So are we still on for that dinner in Manila Papa? Well as soon as I get this IV out of my arm Lieutenant.” "Papa, I would have missed you badly. Thanks for keeping the date, I might even introduce you to family if you want to meet them.” "I'm up for about anything Sam, even family."
One week later, the DPRK was forced back to the six party non nuclear proliferation talks. Indeed they had armed the Taepodong-3 with a 20 megaton uranium warhead. The retrieval proved beyond dispute that their government was corrupt. The Chinese government was forced to make an international apology for their part in the denial of the missile launch and its payload. The UN sanctioned a formal censorship of both countries, and the rest of the world, well they knew the real truth.
As for me, I had a great meal with my friend on the beautiful Island home of two great women. A new national hero, Navy Lieutenant Sam Abjelina, and my new guardian angel Natividad Bartolome.
If you need me, just leave a message. I’ll be holding my breath in anticipation that it’s Sam.

Rebirth

The placental waters of the Pacific filled my lungs. Maternally cushioning, drowning me inside the confines of my uterine tomb...and I have returned to an embryo awaiting a rebirth and a new life reincarnate from 360 joules of electricity passing through my chest.

Night Songs

Darkness nears and stars come out.
The sun sets low, coyotes shout.
Crickets chirp into the night,
and fireflies glow as birds take flight.

I sit and watch the dance in rhyme
then all around me stops in time.
As all God’s creatures give their praise
to be alive just one more day


And just as soon as it began,
the moon lends light upon the land.
I bow my head and say a prayer
to all God’s creatures kind and fair.

The Gift Of My Father

Camp Shelby Mississippi 

Is where it all began,

the transformation to a soldier 

from an unassuming man.

Soon thrust into a battle 

to preserve our way of life;

enduring cold, fear, hunger, 

and distance from his wife.

He stood tall when called upon, 

and always did his best,

and never once you heard him brag 

about the medals on his chest.

Honor, comittment, loyalty, 

and the courage to stand tall.

I reflect upon my Father 

and the gift he gave us all.

.

The Day Duke Exploded

It was one of those sweltering summer days in the South. July of 1960 was proving to be a month that would go down in the record books. I didn't know much about the weather, being only five, but I did know what hot was. The attic fan in our home ran non stop that summer. We had been sleeping with the windows open since early May. Waking up damp with perspiration was our badge of courage for making Mississippi our home. That's what my Daddy would say. The heat and my youthful ignorance would soon prove to be my undoing.

The day started like any other day. Mama arose early and started breakfast. That was her duty. Southern women, especially Mothers, had duties. Unmarried young women had dreams of someday having duties. It didn't make too much sense to me. I just wanted to be outside playing, or fishing with my friends. I crawled out of bed soon after Mama from the smell of sausage and biscuits on the table. Daddy would be up and to the table after his morning bath. Showers hadn't been invented yet, at least not in our town. It was a bath where you got to lie down in a tub of tepid water to wash away the dirt and sweat from the day before. The night before when I said my prayers I promised God that I would tell my big secret today, a secret that had been troubling me all week. I didn't know if I could go another day feeling such guilt without telling Mama and Daddy what I did, and where I hid the body. I planned to tell them tonight when we sat and talked before bedtime. Just then I heard Daddy raise his voice so Mama would answer quickly. "What's that God awful smell? Did you clean some catfish last night and forget to put the garbage out Mama?" I sank low in my chair hoping he wouldn't see the guilt on my face, but it was much too late to fix things now.

Five days earlier, it had rained hard. Enough rain to leave what looked like a lake in our yard, and a river along the ditch that lined our dirt road. Just the kind of rain that Duke, my Labrador, and I liked playing in. As I pulled on my galoshes I thought about how much I loved my dog. We were good buddies. I called out loud for Duke, but there was no answer. I called for him again a little louder. He should be running up to me and jumping on my chest. That was his typical greeting. It was a ritual, and for a moment I was worried. After all I was five years old, and rituals were important to me. I had rituals for almost everything. When I met up with my friend Glen each day, our ritual was to punch each other as hard as we could. It hurt, but it was our ritual. If I didn't get slugged in the arm I felt unacknowledged, I needed that to validate our bond. I needed Duke's presence, but he was no where to be found. I had to go look for him. I hurriedly put on my Hopalong Cassidy cowboy hat and gloves and set out in search of my buddy.

The rain had turned the dirt road in front of our house into a gumbo of red and yellow clay. I slipped with almost every step I took, hoping to find Duke at the next turn in the road. As I approached the intersection of where our road met up with the county highway I saw Duke. He had been hit by a car, and he lay motionless in the rain. I knelt down and opened his mouth out of curiosity. His tongue was swollen, and his jaw was rigid. Even at my young age, I knew he was dead. I felt ashamed. I should have taken better care of Duke and protected him from all the bad things in life. He was more than my friend, he was my responsibility. I wasn't going to let him lie out here in the rain. I grabbed him tight by the tail with my cowboy gloves and dragged him towards home. Back home I found a place to hide his body in the garage which adjoins the main house. Somehow hiding his body relieved me of some of the shame I felt for not caring and watching out for him better. I had failed Duke, and now he was dead.

The next few days passed uneventfully, although questions of Duke's whereabouts came up nightly. Mama and Daddy would say Duke probably found a girlfriend, and was out "sowing his oats". I wished they would stop talking about him. My guilt was tremendous, and I became more and more ashamed each time Duke was mentioned during our family discussions. I knew exactly what happened to Duke. I felt awful. For the first time in my young life I didn't like myself. I felt I had not only let Duke down, but my family as well.

That brings me back to the breakfast table. As I slid down in my chair, I was promptly snatched back to reality with a stern look from my Daddy's all knowing eyes. I couldn't take it anymore. I had no choice but to reveal my secret now. With a cathartic release of pent up emotion I wailed, “I did it, I know what happened to Duke!” I led Daddy out to the garage, and in behind a stack of old worn out tires, and a swarm of flies rested the body of our family dog. Duke in all his glory had decomposed, and some time during the night, for lack of a better word, had exploded. Daddy said a very bad word, before slowly composing himself. Gently he took me by the hand and walked me back inside the house. We all took our breakfast out to the back yard and sat at the picnic table. We cried, laughed, and remembered our Duke. Although Daddy punished me by having me clean up the mess I helped create, I finally understood unconditional parental love, the price of keeping secrets from the family, and the meaning of a dog day afternoon.

When the Rain Falls

I'd play a muted trumpet if I could
on my front door steps
If my neighbors heard it they'd know
that it was raining

Cheeks buldging like Dizzy's
smiling like Satchmo
in between clouds
of soulful riffs

Smooth notes like the rain
falling by the bucket full
from a tarnished old horn
and a young boy’s fancy

Mo Anam Cara

Out to the West so many miles
she walks in bare feet by the bay.
Raven hair and loving smile
sipping lattes through the day.
So wise in age and graced in style
linked to my soul in special ways.

The Gaelic bond that we both share
Mo Anam Cara is its call.
Whatever burden we may bare
is always taken without stall.
To uplift each in loving prayer
and share the pain if either falls.

A kindred soul; a co-joined heart
a willingness to always share.
To know the other does their part
no need to say we'll always care.
Mo Anam Cara, let us start,
Mo Anam Cara....kind and fair.

Bringing Home Sam

The last days of June were unusually hot, although I really didn't mind the heat as I spent most of my free time in the water. Learning to surf Cocoa Beach Florida at the sweet age of 53 was out of the ordinary, but I was quite the un-ordinary guy. Ron Jon’s surf shop had come to know me well in the past year as this was my usual hangout on any given weekend before I would head to the local beach.

My background up until a year ago was in the space program. My business card read Commander K. 'Papa' Pennebaker/Shuttle Commander/ NASA Flight Program Coordinator. I had flown missions out of Cape Kennedy with the shuttle program dating back to the 1980’s, and most recently held the position of officer in charge of new recruits indoctrinating into the astronaut program. Flying by the seat of my pants was what I really enjoyed, but working with the ‘new blood’ coming into the flight program gave me a great sense of satisfaction. I had decided recently that I had done all I could do and had seen it all, so last July I met with my good friend and supervisor, Wally Hunt, and told him of my plans to retire. It was time I thought to start thinking about a new life, and enjoy the fruits of my labor. If I had prepared the new recruits thoroughly I could leave the program without any reservation. That is when my cell phone rang.

“Papa, it’s Wally. We need you at the Cape. We have a Galactic Code 4.” As soon as his words were transmitted to my cell I was in my car and heading toward Cape Kennedy. I passed by security and drove straight to Building 1. That's where Wally was waiting with the news.

“It looks bad Papa. Sam has gotten herself into a real nasty situation. She was flying her first solo mission to Jupiter. While maneuvering though the Van Allen belt, her craft was struck by a meteorite. Our sensors indicate her oxygen pressure is very low. We believe it’s only a matter of time until she runs out of breathable oxygen, and then …well you know what that means.”

Sam was the top cadet that had come through the astronaut training program under my direction. She was a summa cum laude grad from UC Berkeley with a double major in physics and aerospace studies. She made it through the space program despite having two young children to take care for, and the death of her namesake Grandmother Natividad. Her hard work and professionalism impressed me above all the other students I had instructed. After she graduated the program at NASA we became good friends, and she even once took me to her favorite coffee house and also introduced me to her Mother's Filipino cooking. “What do you need me to do Wally? I’m in. I’ll do anything for Sam.”

“Papa, NASA needs you to go back into space and rescue Sam. Do you think you can do it? Can you reach into your gut and pull out the courage to fly again?” “Just show me the way to the launch pad Wally. The surf can wait a day or two; I’ve got a rendezvous with Sam.”

Wally and the pre-launch crew led me to the hangar where I was introduced to the Lapin Blanc. A prototype rescue craft, small, two-seater, white, sleek, awesome. “Why the name Lapin Blanc, Wally?” "It's French for White Rabbit", Wally replied. "A quick rescue vehicle developed in collaboration with the French Space Administration for just this purpose. This craft flies like a Ferrari with its two twin Kretchmar solid fuel booster rockets."

“What do you think Papa? Can you can fly it?” “For Sam, hell yeah I can... start the countdown!” “Countdown starts in 1 hour Papa, better suit up. Sam needs you.”

After a quick two fingers of tequila in the preparation room, and getting into my flight suit I was ready. I was going to bring Sam home in one piece or my name wasn’t Papa K.

3,2,1 blastoff. My body pushed back onto the leather seat of the sleek white rabbit as it rocketed through the clouds and within seconds blue turned to dark black space. As the twin Kretchmars disengaged I could see stars through the heads up display and I could feel myself go weightless. It had been years since I had experienced weightlessness, and now I understood why surfing appealed to me. It was that same kind of feeling.

My rendezvous with Sam would be in an hour as I familiarized myself with the robotic arm that I would use in pulling her to the Lapin.

Out of the dark Sam’s craft came into view. I could see it had been struck by space debris, as it wobbled out of control and gaseous vapor spewed from its port side. I sent a message to Sam by radio and was successful upon the first attempt. “Sam, it’s Big Papa K. I’m here to take you home.”

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard her beautiful voice. “How did you know where to find me Big Papa?” “I listened to your guardian angel Natividad. She showed me the way. Now let’s get the hell out of here and back to Karen and Mikey, what do you say?” As I grabbed her with the Lapin's robotic arm and pulled her inside the two seater she took a deep breathe of fresh oxygen and then smelled the coffee. “Yeah, I brought you one. It's a caff'e caramel macchiato from Peets. You didn’t think I would forget, did you?” We had both reconnected after all this time. Sam was still the bright Filipina Berkeley girl I had come to admire. The one who first gave me the name ‘Big Papa K’, the name that had stuck.

As we re-entered earth’s atmosphere, the sky was colored an unusual flush apricot sway. At that moment I turned to Sam and said, “You remember the song? Our song from long ago? Wanna sing it again?" We both laughed and started singing that silly song I wrote about my trip out to California to visit her once. As our little white Lapin sliced through the clouds, Cape Kennedy's runway came into view.

Filipino pride, Filipino pride...
Going back to earth in my little white ride.
Top down crusin' here comes the mornin' sun.
Becha I’ll be brown before this trip is done…

to be continued.....

The Responsibility of Our Blessing

As the fourth of July approaches I usually start thinking about barbeque, ice cold watermelon, a couple of beers, backyard parties, and flying the flag out front so all can see. I love flying the flag, and try to put it out daily, and not forget to bring it in at dusk. I have watched the flag for what seems like hours on occasion, and know how the red and white stripes flutter in the breeze and how the field of fifty white stars sit upon their dark blue background. Red, white and blue. Those three colors have come to represent not only our flag, but also an analogy for being a good citizen. “Yep, he’s red, white and blue through and through.” You have probably heard that many times in your life. It’s fitting that those colors represent someone’s loyalty to the United States. If you think about it, well it’s quite a compliment to be red, white and blue.

Blessed with citizenship, and not taken for granted. That’s what I wish for myself and my friends. I totally understand that this freedom I enjoy came with a huge price. The sacrifices of men and women before me, and those that will come after me have and will ensure this blessing for generations to come. Our present day responsibility collectively is to ensure that the younger generation realizes the prices paid, and the responsibility that is theirs in keeping our country free from tyranny.

I am very proud to be part of this great country. I am proud of each one of you who take citizenship seriously, and I am proud of those who come to our country legally and seek citizenship lawfully.    

So this fourth of July, as I eat my barbeque, fly the stars and stripes, and listen to the kids laugh and play in the yard, I'll also remind myself of the responsibility of my blessing.....

"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."