I was flown above the decks of Old Ironsides, and from the masts of the Yankee and the China Clippers. I blazed the trail with Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. I led the settlers coming west and crossed Death Valley in a covered wagon.

I was carried through the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli by the United States Marines. Once I fell to the ground at Custer's Last Stand and there were no living hands left to pick me up. I galloped up the slopes of San Juan Hill with Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders of the United States Cavalry. I stayed with the boys until it was over, over there, and on the battle fields of the Marne, Chateau-Thierry, St. Mihiel, and the Argonne Forest. I saw many of the youths and manhood of our Nation fall and lie still in death. They had given their last full measure of devotion. The war was over for them forever, and I kept my lonely vigil over their graves and stayed to watch the poppies grow amid the crosses, row on row, in Flanders Fields. I was raised by five brave men during the "Hell" of Iwo Jima. I waved farewell to the four immortal chaplains who went down with their ship and to honored glory. (I flew with our Nation's heroes during the Berlin Airlift. I felt the sting of battle in Korea, in Vietnam, and Desert Storm. I flew faster than the speed of sound with Chuck Yeager. I walked on the moon with Neil Armstrong and "Buzz" Aldrin where I remain as a beacon for peace and freedom for all mankind.)*

I am many things to many people. I am an inseparable link in the chain that binds men to God and country; each link welded in the fires of Purity by the Sacred Hands of God, Himself. And because I am on the side of God, the godless would destroy me; but they dare not, because I am protected by the mighty land armies of the Nation, the powerful and deadly fleet of the Navy and the screaming eagles of the Air Force, watching and waiting to swoop down and destroy anything that would harm me.

To some I am yesterday, today, and tomorrow; to others I am a glorious child, to some a grand old man or a most gracious lady. I have several names. I am called the "Red, White, and Blue,""The Star-Spangled Banner,""The Stars and Stripes;"but I am most commonly known by a nickname given me by and old sea captain, who called me "Old Glory."

I have not changed much in my 185 years. I still have my original 13 stripes, but as each new state came into the Union an new star was proudly added to the constellation of my blue field. It started with 13 stars; now, there are 50.

Many more things I would like to tell you, but we haven't the time; but, I do want to see you again. I am easy to find. I am everywhere. I am in the homes of the poor, in the mansions of the rich, in Independence Hall with the Declaration of Independence and the Liberty Bell. I am in the White House with the president. I am in all the churches, cathedrals, and synagogues, in the Council of the Boy and Girl Scouts of America, in all the schools where they pledge allegiance to me.

I drape the caskets of our Nation's heroes, borne to their last resting place; the caskets of presidents, generals, admirals, humble privates, and the Unknown Soldier. Wherever free men gather; wherever there is justice, equality, faith, hope, charity, truth, or brotherly love; there, too, am I.

May history NEVER write my obituary, for I am the Stars and Stripes FOREVER.

I AM OLD GLORY. "

Patriotic medley

Dedicated to all our War Veterans and Service people.

Thank you so much for protecting our freedoms.

Who's Got Your Back?

I am a small and precious child, my dad's been sent to fight... The only place I'll see his face, is in my dreams at night. He will be gone too many days For my young mind to keep track. I may be sad, but I am proud. My daddy's got your back.


I am a caring mother. My son may go to war... My mind is filled with worries that I have never known before Everyday I try to keep my thoughts from turning black. I may be scared, but I am proud. My son has got your back.

I am a strong and loving wife, with a husband soon to go. There are times I'm terrified in a way most never know. I bite my lip, and force a smile as I watch my husband pack... My heart may break, but I am proud. My husbands got your back...

I am a soldier, Serving Proudly, standing tall. I fight for freedom, yours and mine by answering this call. I do my job while knowing, the thanks it sometimes lacks. Say a prayer that I'll come home. It's me who's got your back.

"Good night, Dad," I watched my father,
As he climbed the stairs to go to bed;
"Good night, son," he softly answered,
With a vague salute to his white head.
I waved back from my big chair,
But Dad's wave was more salute;
He learned that sixty years ago,
As a World War II recruit.

The story goes ... Dad was eighteen,
When World War II broke out;
About the age my son is now,
Too young to know what life's about.

I think I know how I would feel,
If they drafted my young son;
I suppose my grandfolks felt the same,
December Seventh, Nineteen Forty-one.

Dad seldom talked about the war,
But I remember, as a kid,
Once I asked him where he went,
And what it was he did.

He said, "Someday, son, I'll tell you,
When you're old enough to know,
About the battlefields I fought on,
And the bloodshed I saw flow."

And, you know, he's never told me,
I've asked time and time again;
I do know he has some medals,
In velvet cases in his den.

He used to get them out each year,
When he donned his uniform;
Parades would be held on holidays,
And Veterans would perform.

"That's my Dad," I'd point out,
As he marched proudly down the street;
His old unit reunited,
Those old guys never missed a beat.

But I wonder how he felt and thought,
When, still a boy, he went to war,
Was it just a new adventure?
Did he know what the fight was for?

He gave up his days at college,
Instead of pigskins, he had guns;
He heard no cheers for touchdowns,
Just, "Thank God, they're on the run!"

When I was just a little kid,
Sometimes Dad screamed out at night;
Mom would say, "Go back to bed,
War dreams give your Dad a fright."

My Uncle Ned was killed in France,
That was Dad's youngest brother;
Dad wouldn't talk about him much,
What I knew ... I learned from Mother.

That was the war, they said,
To end all future wars;
How many have we had since then?
Will there be many more?

My Dad's a gentle, quiet man,
Who won't discuss his fears or pains;
He fought for those unborn, as yet,
To insure this land remains.

There is no proper way to thank him,
That will have to come from God above;
But I can, at least, extend my hand,
In sincere respect and love.

Copyright^© 2000 Virginia (Ginny) Ellis

Consider the Cost