Keeping My Mouth Closed

The party was in full swing, the table laden with fine food, and scattered about were 14 young adult friends, drinks in hand, heads thrown back in laughter as the group’s resident comedian regaled us with his wit. And he was definitely funny. Everyone, including me, whooping, chuckling, giggling… depending on their laugh style, that is until his jokes took a different tone. Did I mention that the party-goers were caucasian? The funnyman began to tell jokes with a racially denigrating slant and I stopped laughing. I credit the Roman Catholic nuns of my childhood, who taught us that it was just plain wrong, a sin you know, to abhor one of God’s creations based solely on their race, specifically in this case, skin tone. And even if I am no longer a practicing Catholic… well, some things just stick.

Anyway, Mr. Funnyman was an in-law relative of mine, so I had no problem in piping up and telling him that although I usually found him to be quite entertaining, I was “uncomfortable” with this type of humor, (in fact his jokes made me sad, which is kind of the opposite of his supposed intention.)

I noticed the sudden quiet in the room, probably dropping from 60 to 30 decibels, when Funnyman's wife said to me, “Listen, my grandmother is of Polish descent and I don’t take offense at jokes aimed at Poles.” Perhaps, I thought, and you also don’t actually acknowledge your own Polish ancestry. Please note how you did not say ‘I am of Polish descent.’ (I’d only ever heard her say that she was Italian, explaining her blonde hair and blue eyes by adding ‘Northern Italian.’) I looked blankly at her, kept my mouth closed, wishing I hadn’t opined in the first place. There was some nervous clearing of throats, people shifting about as they put their drinks down, and within 30 minutes everyone but the hosts had donned their coats and were saying their good-byes. It was never my intention to put an abrupt end to my friends’ party.

Reliable Husband and I don’t always agree on everything. He feels strongly that by just being quiet, not laughing, but by not reacting to situations like this, one is a giving a sufficient enough response. “By saying nothing, you are making a statement.” But, what if no one ever spoke up to redress social wrongs? “They are adults, dear,” he counters, “If they haven’t formed an opinion one way or another by now, you are certainly not going to change their minds by redressing them.” To this day I vacillate between thinking maybe RH is correct and just maybe I was justified in speaking up that day. But, I now try to keep my such opinions to myself- a bit harder to do after downing a glass of wine.

Which gets me to the present: We attend a meeting/social event once a month or so, where the adult group begins with the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. Since childhood I’ve had a bit of a problem with “The Pledge.” Again, I credit (or blame) the goods nuns who taught me catechism. Back then the words expressed in it never seemed to jibe, in my young mind, with the “no gods before me” commandment, the “no false idols” aspect of Catholicism. Was I not, with my hand over my heart, pledging allegiance to a piece of cloth? It would conjure up a picture in my head of Nazi children saluting the swastika. It didn’t quite sit right with me, even though I loved my country as much as the next kid. I hadn’t the courage to challenge the priest who came to our class for a monthly question and answer session. I was unlike my classmate, Gary, who always put forth something he thought would stump the priest, like:

     Father, could God make a planet heavier than even God could pick up and then could God pick it up?

Where was my big mouth back then? Being an obedient 7 1/2 year old, I reasoned that I’d just mouth the “allegiance to the flag” part and speak aloud the part from “and to the Republic…” and on. God would probably forgive me, right? Problem solved.

Years later I heard of William Tyler Page’s “American Creed” which I always thought was a much better statement. It was one I could have been proud to say aloud. Here it is:

I believe in the United States of America, as a government of the people, by the people, for the people; whose just powers are derived from the consent of the governed; a democracy in a republic; a sovereign Nation of many sovereign States; a perfect union, one and inseparable; established upon those principles of freedom, equality, justice, and humanity for which American patriots sacrificed their lives and fortunes.

I therefore believe it is my duty to my country to love it, to support its Constitution, to obey its laws, to respect its flag, and to defend it against all enemies.

It probably could be edited in some form to make it less verbose and thus memorizable by little kids, don’t you think? Maybe like:

I respect the flag of the United States, and acknowledge it as a symbol of freedom and justice to all.

Or easier still:

     I pledge allegiance and obedience to all the laws of the United States.

Anyway, at our meeting, this recitation of allegiance seems to have little bearing. Once, not even a minute after expressing our allegiance, the guy at the table next says in a stentorian voice, “Who says I’m not patriotic? I brought watermelon in honor of Obama and his wife.” He then guffaws at his own joke. A lightning flash look from Reliable Husband was enough to make me sigh, turn away and take a sip of my beverage, wishing the liquid could somehow stem the tiny bitter pit, seed or kernel now beginning to form in my stomach. My vengeful self wondering if the guffawer would have the gonads to say that in a room full of tall, strong black men, like, oh I don't know, maybe one headed by Kevin Vickerson from the Denver Broncos? Probably not. 

But, again my civic lessons from the nuns come back to me, as they had taught us to respect our country, our elected officials, especially our President. Maybe on a much lesser scale than the beloved Pope, who was endowed with a special infallibility -something that also did not sit quite right with this, then, 7-1/2 year old, but I'll take that subject up at another date. Anyway, I always try to respect our Presidents, like even when we had Mr. George W. for 8 long, solid years. Respect. Despite disagreeing with most of his political views, I’d have never dreamed of mocking him publicly, especially two seconds after putting my hand to my heart and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.

There is an episode of The Andy Griffith Show where the local teacher, Miss Crump, challenges the children, “Do you actually listen to the words you are saying when you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?” I wonder the same thing about this guy at the next table.

Despite my problems with the semantics of The Pledge, I completely respect our flag and acknowledge its representation of (at least as well as we, as humans, can ever sustain) freedom, liberty and justice for all.

Happy Black History Month! And let us give consideration to someday having a Native American History Month in this country, for those poor suckers really got a shabby deal and historically we, as a country, have a tendency to simply sweep them under the carpet.

I've found a way to keep my mouth closed and still get it off my chest by writing it down.

On to happier, more upbeat blogging next time. Although that may be a challenge in an election year ;) ;)

(As a side note: When I saw the movie, “The Bells of St. Mary” I was confused when the children reciting the Pledge of Allegiance didn’t say the words “under God.” I later researched to find that it was because when it was filmed in 1945 and those two words were not part of the original "Pledge.” They  were added in 1954.)