Perpetual Notions
by Ronald Sitton
NORTH LITTLE ROCK (May 24) — This weekend we pause … to remember those who provided the legacy we inherit when becoming Americans, either through birth or adoption.
Many died for the freedoms we often take for granted. Some fought on our soil to revolt against a monarchy overseas; others fought and preserved a fragile nation not quite a century old. The blood spilled here defines our nation still, as some look back instead of forward.
It didn’t take too long to pin our safety on fighting far away from home. The 20th century featured great wars, wars to keep “the wrong” ideas away from our friends-to-be-enemies and enemies-to-be-friends, wars to help the underdog or our self-interests, wars to show we police the world. And remnants of those wars define our nation still because we welcomed those wanting to get away from war — a melting pot above the fire of the world.
We pause to adorn the graves of our fallen soldiers with wreaths, to scan monuments for lives lost, to observe a flag in awe and wonder as it still waves. We pause to thank God for Forefathers prescient enough to provide freedoms to the individual above the powers of government, including the freedom to die in hopes of preserving the fragments we’ve inherited so far.
Oh, we pause. But then what?
Do we think how freedoms erode when we refuse to keep an eye on government? Do we think how a world relishes our ideals even when detesting our shortcomings, wondering whether to expect the self-sacrificing friend or the pompous bully? Do we ponder how a world can respect us when we seldom respect our brethren citizen, humans just like us regardless of race, creed, religion or sexual preference?
We should pause to reflect.
I’m not trying to bum you out before you go to the pool, before you fire up the grill, before you show your hero’s mementos to the family as you gather for reunions, before you post their photos to MySpace and facebook in your online scrapbook. But considering the magnitude of our responsibility as the leader of the world should we not THINK for a minute about our footprint?
We make and gather so much stuff that we often throw away things others would die to have. We horde items though we know we cannot take them in death. Do we hope someone will want what we’ve got once we’re gone? Only fragments will remain to pass along.
What fragments will those be?





It somewhat reminds me of a cross between a ‘74 Honda Civic and a ‘76 Toyota Corolla, two examples of minimalist features but quality craftsmanship. Let’s say with shipping and handling, it ended up more around $3,000 a car. Would that much of an increase keep you from picking one up?
Connecting the Dots