Upholding the Principles
By Ginny
Feedback-Would make my day.
Archive-Just ask
Note-Just a little something that came to me after I watched 1776. It got me wondering about the real Josiah Bartlett.
The early morning is chilly and damp as I leave the farmhouse. It's just past dawn, a little earlier than I wanted to get up but I'm due back in DC soon to get ready to celebrate the birthday of this great nation. But before I do I want to pay my respects to one who signed that document that gave us the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
I manage to sneak out with no entourage and only 2 agents. We stop to buy flowers at one of the many little road side stands that dot the landscape. The agents actually let me hop out and get them myself. Because as anybody knows, they are more personal that way.
The drive to the cemetery isn't too long. The sun begins to peek out through the clouds as we arrive. It occurs to me that I haven't been here in a very long time. But I look at it this way---any time I spend here is a gift. I mean, how many people can even say they know where their great-grandfather's great-grandfather is buried? I can.
As I walk across the freshly cut grass the clippings stick to my sneakers. Yes I, Josiah Barlet, leader of my country, am visiting the cemetery in jeans, sneakers and of course, a Notre Dame sweatshirt.
The agents hang back a respectful distance as I approach the monument. It is a large rectangular box in shape. Fashioned out of many blocks of stone with a solid stone slab on top. It is nothing elaborate. The entire thing is well worn by two centuries of weather. There are watermarks and cracks marring the stones. I run my hand over the engraved lettering on the top.
This Monument is Erected
Over the Sacred Relics of
His Ecsellency
Josiah Bartlett Esq.
Late Governor of Newhampshire
Who Died
May 19, 1795
In The 65th Year Of His Age
And
His Virtuous
And Amiable Confort
Mrs. Mary Bartlett
Who Died
July 14th 1789
In The 59th Year Of Her Age
A shudder passes through me as I realize that when he died, he was only a few years older than I am now. But he accomplished so much. He was a doctor, he was elected to the legislature of the province of New Hampshire, he was a member of the Second Continental Congress, he cast the first vote for the resolution to declare independence, he was the second to sign the Declaration of Independence, he was the first Governor of New Hampshire.
Nothing like having a large legacy to live up to.
But I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm not a medical doctor, but I'm married to one. I was a Congressman and a Governor from New Hampshire. And now I'm President of the United States. Not exactly your everyday list of accomplishments.
So why do I, at this moment, feel so small? Maybe that's not the right word. But I know what I mean, so that's good enough.
I feel, with good reason, that this whole MS issue is going to hang around my neck like a noose. Choking me until it's the only thing I'm remembered for, the President with a degenerative disease. I'm so much more than that. A little over halfway through my term I've already accomplished many things:
Increased foreign trade
3.8 million new jobs
30 million new acres of land for conservation
And what I'll be known for can be summed up in two letters--MS.
I'd almost rather be known as the President who ran his bike into a tree.
Multiple Sclerosis is all people can talk about now. Everywhere I turn there are more stories about it. Aren't people sick of reading about it by now? I sure am. I want to get on with my life, with the campaign. I want people to stop gasping every time I rub my eyes, every time I stumble a little. Don't they realize I've been a klutz all my life? It has nothing to do with my MS.
I gaze back at the monument for a moment. I have to get going soon. I'll just pull out a few of these weeds growing up the side; make it a little neater, more worthy of a signer of the Declaration of Independence.
I suddenly know why I feel small. I, along with Congressman, Senators, and hundreds of others am trying to keep this country together. Some days it feels like we're doing it with shoelaces and chewing gum. McGyver, I'm not. Anyway, that's hundreds of people working, more or less together. But the man who lies beneath my feet helped build this great land with just over 50 others. He helped to form the very principles I spend everyday trying to uphold. He and the others shaped this nation I so proudly call home, without them, where we I be, where would any of us be? They were a band of the chosen few. Chosen without the fanfare and pageantry that accompanies today's election process. They joined together for a common goal, to make sure that for generations to come this land would be place to prosper and to be free.
All I can do is try to live up to the dreams of our forefathers. The dreams of my great grandfather's great grandfather.
I can tell it's time to leave; the agents are circling in for a landing.
I leave the flowers as a small token of thanks for the ideas that came out of Philadelphia 225 years ago. The ideas that I will fight to uphold until I draw my last breath. Whether that breath is next week or decades from now. Whether or not I am re-elected. Whether I am remembered for what I accomplished or for what affliction I had, upholding the principles that shaped this nation is my goal. It always has been and it always will be. It's just who I am.
THE END
By Ginny
Feedback-Would make my day.
Archive-Just ask
Note-Just a little something that came to me after I watched 1776. It got me wondering about the real Josiah Bartlett.
The early morning is chilly and damp as I leave the farmhouse. It's just past dawn, a little earlier than I wanted to get up but I'm due back in DC soon to get ready to celebrate the birthday of this great nation. But before I do I want to pay my respects to one who signed that document that gave us the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
I manage to sneak out with no entourage and only 2 agents. We stop to buy flowers at one of the many little road side stands that dot the landscape. The agents actually let me hop out and get them myself. Because as anybody knows, they are more personal that way.
The drive to the cemetery isn't too long. The sun begins to peek out through the clouds as we arrive. It occurs to me that I haven't been here in a very long time. But I look at it this way---any time I spend here is a gift. I mean, how many people can even say they know where their great-grandfather's great-grandfather is buried? I can.
As I walk across the freshly cut grass the clippings stick to my sneakers. Yes I, Josiah Barlet, leader of my country, am visiting the cemetery in jeans, sneakers and of course, a Notre Dame sweatshirt.
The agents hang back a respectful distance as I approach the monument. It is a large rectangular box in shape. Fashioned out of many blocks of stone with a solid stone slab on top. It is nothing elaborate. The entire thing is well worn by two centuries of weather. There are watermarks and cracks marring the stones. I run my hand over the engraved lettering on the top.
This Monument is Erected
Over the Sacred Relics of
His Ecsellency
Josiah Bartlett Esq.
Late Governor of Newhampshire
Who Died
May 19, 1795
In The 65th Year Of His Age
And
His Virtuous
And Amiable Confort
Mrs. Mary Bartlett
Who Died
July 14th 1789
In The 59th Year Of Her Age
A shudder passes through me as I realize that when he died, he was only a few years older than I am now. But he accomplished so much. He was a doctor, he was elected to the legislature of the province of New Hampshire, he was a member of the Second Continental Congress, he cast the first vote for the resolution to declare independence, he was the second to sign the Declaration of Independence, he was the first Governor of New Hampshire.
Nothing like having a large legacy to live up to.
But I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm not a medical doctor, but I'm married to one. I was a Congressman and a Governor from New Hampshire. And now I'm President of the United States. Not exactly your everyday list of accomplishments.
So why do I, at this moment, feel so small? Maybe that's not the right word. But I know what I mean, so that's good enough.
I feel, with good reason, that this whole MS issue is going to hang around my neck like a noose. Choking me until it's the only thing I'm remembered for, the President with a degenerative disease. I'm so much more than that. A little over halfway through my term I've already accomplished many things:
Increased foreign trade
3.8 million new jobs
30 million new acres of land for conservation
And what I'll be known for can be summed up in two letters--MS.
I'd almost rather be known as the President who ran his bike into a tree.
Multiple Sclerosis is all people can talk about now. Everywhere I turn there are more stories about it. Aren't people sick of reading about it by now? I sure am. I want to get on with my life, with the campaign. I want people to stop gasping every time I rub my eyes, every time I stumble a little. Don't they realize I've been a klutz all my life? It has nothing to do with my MS.
I gaze back at the monument for a moment. I have to get going soon. I'll just pull out a few of these weeds growing up the side; make it a little neater, more worthy of a signer of the Declaration of Independence.
I suddenly know why I feel small. I, along with Congressman, Senators, and hundreds of others am trying to keep this country together. Some days it feels like we're doing it with shoelaces and chewing gum. McGyver, I'm not. Anyway, that's hundreds of people working, more or less together. But the man who lies beneath my feet helped build this great land with just over 50 others. He helped to form the very principles I spend everyday trying to uphold. He and the others shaped this nation I so proudly call home, without them, where we I be, where would any of us be? They were a band of the chosen few. Chosen without the fanfare and pageantry that accompanies today's election process. They joined together for a common goal, to make sure that for generations to come this land would be place to prosper and to be free.
All I can do is try to live up to the dreams of our forefathers. The dreams of my great grandfather's great grandfather.
I can tell it's time to leave; the agents are circling in for a landing.
I leave the flowers as a small token of thanks for the ideas that came out of Philadelphia 225 years ago. The ideas that I will fight to uphold until I draw my last breath. Whether that breath is next week or decades from now. Whether or not I am re-elected. Whether I am remembered for what I accomplished or for what affliction I had, upholding the principles that shaped this nation is my goal. It always has been and it always will be. It's just who I am.
THE END