Geranium Farm Home         Who's Who on the Farm         The Almost Daily eMo         Subscriptions         Coming Events
Hodgepodge         More or Less Church         Ways of the World         A Few Good Writers
Gifts For Life         Pennies From Heaven         Light a Prayer Candle         Links

SIC TRANSIT
July 4, 2007
 
Today at 2pm Eastern time: ring your church's bell, if you have a church. Ring it thirteen times, one for each of the original thirteen American colonies.

Our beautiful and varied land is as old as anyone else's, but our nation is quite new -- not even 250 years old yet. A nation declared, in 1776, and then designed by an argumentative group of men from each of the 13 very different colonies, in an act that seemed not at all certain of success at the outset. Today the BBC was telling us about a movement to create a United States of Africa, and one or two speakers came on air to scoff at the very idea. I am not so sure.

Throughout the world, the political order never stays the same forever. Scattered city-states band together into nations. Representative governments replace and alter monarchies. Kings thought to be gods give way to presidents and prime ministers who are all too human. A political system based upon the idea that the state will wither away becomes itself the most totalitarian of all, and then curiously dissolves into a push-me-pull-you of competing business interests and party conformity. And beneath it all, the economics change, too, feudal loyalties left in the dust as currency replaces every product it symbolizes, itself becoming a product, portable and mobile, counted out upon the table in the 18th century or sent through the ether in our own.

I look out onto the street from my office window. It called Middlesex Avenue here, the Lincoln Highway elsewhere along its length, and is part of what would become the first transcontinental highway. Mostof the colonial milestones are gone, but some are still here, worn down by the wind and the acid rain. This road wasn't much in the 18th century: a sleepy road, muddy in the spring, along which the houses sat with their doorways opening right onto the street. Now the cars whiz back and forth, a steady sound that takes some initial getting used to. Then, it was the clip-clop of the occasional horse, the creak and rattle of a coach passing by.

And of course, the steady tread of marching soldiers. Right here, right along this street outside my window.
Copyright © 2018 Barbara Crafton
  2016     2015     2014     2013     2012     2011     2010     2009     2008     2007     2006     2005     2004     2003  
  2016     2015     2014     2013     2012     2011     2010     2009     2008     2007     2006     2005     2004     2003  


Copyright © 2003-2018 Geranium Farm - All rights reserved.
Reproduction of any materials on this web site for any purpose
other than personal use without written consent is prohibited.

2003-2004 Golden Web Awards Winner     2003-2004 Level 2 Diamond Web Award Winner     WorldWebWebAwards.net Humanitarian Award Winner     2004 WebAward Winner for Standard of Excellence