Do you know what really bothers me? I hate receiving emails from someone I
don't know reminding me what freedom is all about. They usually include
pictures of Arlington Cemetery, the flag or a veteran marching in a parade.
I gather they are sent by people who have cast themselves as the watchdogs
for freedom and everyone else needs to be reminded by them and if we aren't,
this country will become another Iran or Yemen in the next three and a half
days.
Rather than insult my intelligence about the freedoms that are obvious and
that we all know and respect, I would rather they remind me of some of the
little things about freedom that we don't, perhaps, consider signs of
freedom and take for granted. For example:
Freedom to me means having children go trick or treating and hope that
someone doesn't just throw a handful of popcorn in their bags, which would
often happen when I was young. The popcorn would mix with unwrapped candy
and cookies so that when you got home to show your parents what treats you
received, you pulled out this wad of cookie, popcorn, candy gunk, which you
then offered to your dad. "Here, Dad, you can have this."
Freedom to me means doing things with your dad like going to a football game
on a Friday night and then leaving a bit early to avoid the rush of other
dads and kids going to their cars. On the way home you talk a little about
the game or where you would hunt tomorrow if it should happen to be the
opening day of pheasant season.
Freedom to me means having the opportunity to go deer hunting with your
family and friends and sitting around the camp fire the night before and not
saying too much but just looking into the flames. I believe it is part of
the Native American tradition to pay homage to the Great Spirit before the
season begins to thank him for the opportunity to hunt and to provide for a
safe hunt. Perhaps that's what hunters are doing as they silently gaze into
their campfires and rest after their big "night before the hunt" meal.
Freedom to me means going to the grocery store and sampling one or two or
three red grapes without feeling guilty before selecting the package you are
going to take to the deer cabin or home to put on the kitchen counter next
to your crossword puzzle book that you work on when you have nothing else to
do.
Freedom to me is having the time to do a crossword puzzle and after a few
days of doing your best, you can look at the answers and feel that it's
perfectly OK to do so. Who in their right mind would ever conclude that a
"mawkish sentimentalist" is a "cornball"?
Freedom to me means being able to wear a comfortable pair of sports training
pants around the house even though they are abhorrent to your wife who
believes they make you look like an alien from outer space who forgot "its"
address. Who does she think I am, some kind of cornball?
Freedom to me means having to live with a lot of junk mail requesting you
to send money to their organization in exchange for the enclosed address
labels and then choosing those organizations, which you believe are the most
in need but which are probably some sort of big scam and you decide to give
your money to your church instead.
Freedom to me is a group of priests getting together and telling stories
like the boy who confesses, "Father, I was with a loose woman last night."
"Is this little Joey Cambino?" "Yes, Father, it is."
"
"And who was the girl you were with?'
' "I can't tell you, Father, I don't want to ruin her reputation."
"Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as
well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?" "I cannot say." "Was it Teresa
Mazzarelli?"
"I'll never tell." "Was it Nina Capelli?" "I'm sorry, but I cannot name
her.'
'
"Was it Cathy Piriano?" "My lips are sealed." "Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?"
"Please, Father, I cannot tell you."
The priest sighs in frustration.
"You're very tight lipped, and I admire
that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now
for 4 months. Now you go and behave yourself."
Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend Franco slides over and whispers,
"What'd you get?" Joey says, "Four months vacation and five good leads."
Freedom to me is watching the TV series "The Wire" and not feeling that you
have to go to confession for watching it because you have no control over
the magnetic forces you to find out what happens next.
Freedom to me is all about choices and if there is one important quality
about America, it is the fact that we have choices.
Finally, freedom to me is choosing a restaurant that you have not eaten at
for awhile and leaving a pretty good tip. It is the feeling you get after
you give your son-in-law the opportunity to help you pull your dock in for
the winter and you give him a tip to use as gas money on his return to the
big city. Freedom is calling a friend and asking them how they are doing
after moving to the big city and asking if the leaves are falling. Freedom
means taking time to watch the leaves sail through the sky on a windy day.
Freedom is having the ability to do all of the things you need to do to
prepare for winter like raking leaves and then sitting in a comfortable
chair with the cat on your lap thinking about how lucky you are to know what
freedom is and having the privilege to experience all of it. And, thanks to
those veterans who march in parades and those soldiers who fight and die for
us, we can experience all of it.
Who Is John?