I've decided to get back to blogging, and in doing that I've also decided to go down to only one blog, rather than the three I was working on previously (Murfreesboro Burning, The Zombie Zebra, and What do you think I am, magic?). Since those actually had a few good posts (any many, many more bad posts), I'm going to start out my new blog by re-using some of my old material. These will be duly noted as "Old Blogs".
Probably the most interesting, and perhaps most galling, thing I
have been accused of is being un-American. Several times over that accusation
has been flung at me, in any form from not standing firm enough behind the
armed forces, to the more pointed directions to go back to where I came from.
To both of these I am trying to decide whether to grit my teeth and growl at
the hate, or smile at how ridiculous it is. Go back to where I came from?
Alright, so should I go back to the military base in southern California where
I was born? Wait... did I just say military base? That's right, not only was I
born in America to Americans, I was born on a military base, the biological
daughter of a Marine (let's add to the fact that both my biological parents had
just-off-the-rez Native American grandparents, and... yeah, there's really no
where for me to go). Not only was my birth father a Marine, but my adopted
father was a Korean veteran, only sent home when his brother was killed there.
In fact, should I like to visit what is left of my dad, I have to go to Middle
Tennessee Veteran's Cemetery. His father, my grandfather, fought in
World War I, even though it meant he had to fudge his age and change his name
because he was too young. There hasn't been a generation of my family that
hasn't fought for America in the century both immigrant portions have been
here, and those that didn't fight built planes, sent care packages, and dealt
with the shortages caused by war. The only time I've ever seen one of my
cousins was when his submarine docked in San Diego and he had leave to eat
dinner at our house. When I was younger, before I ruined my knee and became so
sick that life became almost unbearable, I wanted nothing more than to join the
Air Force just like my Papa. So don't say I'm un-American; if being American is
determined by how much you love the armed forces, there are few who are more
American than me.
People may say I'm un-American, but in my
opinion there is nothing more un-American than trying to subvert the
Constitution, to change laws that should not be changed just because they don't
like how a person looks, or who they love, or in what way they worship. We are
America, all of us, be we white, black, brown, red, yellow, striped, polka-dot
or paisley. We are America, be we straight, gay, bisexual, asexual,
transsexual, or what have you. We are America, no matter we worship Jehovah,
G-d, Allah, Buddha, Vishnu, Kerridwen, Danu, Aakuluujjusi, the Holy Crow, the Flying Spaghetti
Monster, or no one at all. We are America, the many colors, the many flavors,
sounds, scents and feelings. We are America.
This land is your land, this land is my
land, this land is our land.
This land was made for you and me.
In memory of my dad, James E. Butts Sr.,
USAF
1 April 1932 - 9 March 2010
“The Constitution is the guide which I
never will abandon.” - George Washington
“Where liberty is, there is my country.” -
Benjamin Franklin
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