The Burrow

It's my flag, too.   I can fly it with all its ambiguities and still feel moved.  Flying it is part of my pursuit of happiness.   On patriotic holidays and events, I wear all my red white and blue clothes - some of them tie dyed when Little Cuter was in elementary school.  I was just wearing that shirt! she said when she saw my tank top on FaceTime. (Yes, everything we made was very very big.  Oversized t-shirts as pajamas is still a thing.) My gym rat friend, Bill the Marine, gave me a pair of light cotton sweatpants emblazoned with stars and stripes.  My $3 Target t with a flag graphic alternates with the sundress that is also about 30 years old.  That means they've been worn 90 times at most - Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day - and they show no wear at all..  At this rate there is no earthly reason to add to the collection; they will last forever. I'm not making a political statement.  I'm making an American statement. ...

I've had it. As G'ma would say, "It's enough already". The whining has to stop. Yes, times are tough for new graduates. Yes, only 20% of those who applied for jobs this year will be working after their commencement exercises are safely enshrined on Facebook , if my alumni magazine is to be believed. Yes, we're in a recession and society is in a mess and Americans are dying in wars on foreign soil and gee whiz it sounds a lot like when I was a new college graduate in 1973. And when I finished grad school in 1975. Prospects were dim, and there were a lot of us looking into them. The Peace Corps would've been an option were I not committed to a man who hated to travel. Besides, making money was, all of a sudden, not such an unpalatable objective. Not lots and lots of money necessarily (though that turned out to be pretty nice, too) but enough money to pay the bills with some left over to save and some to spend. The American Dream. And it felt just out of re...