I love America. Period. End. No perfection here, not in my little town, or in this state (“where is New Hampshire, again??”). And certainly there is no perfection in ‘politics’ – in any level of our ‘democratic’ and ‘representative’ governments.
“Perfection” was not written into the Bill of Rights, nor the Constitution.
FREEDOM was, and should continue to be, the basic tenet of our American lives.
Our Revolution waged over 8 years, unofficially started here in NH with the first “revolutionary” military activity between Loyalists and Patriots, with the capture of Fort William in December 1774. There were 6 battles in NH, 12 in Mass., and 137 in South Carolina alone.
In all, there were 1,546 military engagements over the course of those 8 long years.
Total American deaths: 6,824 (90% were from the Continental Army), 10,000 deaths from disease and another 8,500 died in British prisons.
The ratio of American deaths to the free white male demographic, was 1 in 20. This ratio would equal 3 million today.
24,000 British boys and men died “for” “our” Revolution.
There were 80,000 colonial inhabitants living mainly along the New England coast, when the Revolution broke out. Of the 2.5 million people having made this their new home, 20% were black slaves.
In 1775, the slave population of Virginia was 40%, NY 14%, Connecticut 8% and Rhode Island %.
Clearly, “we” had yet to graciously broaden the scope of “freedom,” that bloody perspective, (or lack of) destined to stain American soils for decades, scores and a few scary centuries to come.
Sadly, our country has become diseased and it would appear, to this citizen, anyway, that freedom, no longer reigns. Not in Tuftonboro, not in New Hampshire (“Live Free or Die”), or in America.
My country , ‘Tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Liberty, of Thee I sing.
Land where my Fathers’ died, Land of the Pilgrims Pride,
From ev’ry mountain side, let Freedom ring.
My native country, Thee
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet Freedom’s song;
Let mortal’s tongue awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break
The sound prolong.
Samuel Francis Smith, written 1831.