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Happy Independence Day

Independence

 

I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.  (1) 

The word “traditional” is sticking in my craw lately, like a piece of stringy meat digging under the gum line, escaping traditional means of extrication, and requiring a DDS-licensed exorcist who comes armed with tiny, shiny traditional hooks, a traditional reclining chair and a traditional blinding light. Nevertheless, this pledge is our traditional pledge of allegiance, and often recited in honor of our traditional Fourth of July.

We’ve shortened “Independence Day” to “the Fourth,” as if it were just another day on the calendar, albeit one that creates a long weekend of fireworks, cooking out, and camaraderie, and we seem to have forgotten that this, “the Fourth,” is the day that the United States adopted the Declaration of Independence, standing apart from Great Britain and declaring itself no longer British property.

The thirteen colonies were young and brash, and so full of hope, and they created a nation that stood up and stood apart and stood firm.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.  (2)

Because of these self-evident truths, we formed our own government in order to have a government we could consent to.

A government instituted with the consent of the governed.

For better or worse, whatever our political affiliation may be, We The People have consented to our government.

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Independence Day

“I’m dying!” I yelled at Sherry in a moment of utter thoughtless withdrawal a few weeks ago.

“No you’re not,” she shot right back.

Actually, I was. Just not in the way to which I was alluding. That night, 23 days ago, I smoked my last cigarettes back-to-back.

Nancy the smoker died on January 9, 2008. Nancy the non-smoker was reborn the next morning, full of phlegm and an insanely sore throat. I know that there’s a high relapse rate. I also know that I can never, ever have a single cigarette or a single puff of one or I will relapse. Because that’s the way I’m wired, for better or worse. The only way I’ll start smoking again is if I indulge in a behavior that I don’t want to do in the first place.

And despite the passing twinges, that’s exactly how it should be.

It took me over a year of really, really trying to quit to get to this point.

In about three months, I will be 34 years and one week old as I walk across the stage to get my pseudo-bachelor’s degree. I was thinking about that today and realized that I was close to hating myself for LITERALLY half my life for something that wasn’t even my fault.

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