I have always been appreciative of being an American. I was raised in a home who hung the American flag on the outside of our house every day of the year. It was strung up a metal pole and forgotten there. It was put up every morning at dawn and taken down every evening at dusk. My family truly was honor-bound to the USA - loving the Red, White, and Blue.
My father was one of my greatest influences. He served in WW2 as a corpsman for the 76th General Hospital (http://vintagefilmarsenal.com/76th.html) He talked about how he addressed the maintenance care of wounded soldiers. He told stories of times when his hospital was attacked. And he told me of how he had to take care of those who did not survive. But I think the thing that always moved me the most was when he said the war was ending and some of the Jewish people rescued from concentration camps had come to the safety and treatment of his location. That image he could never forget, and the tone of his voice changed to something that did not sound as much proud as it did hurt. It made me feel grateful that our military helped bring down the terrorists of his time.
I was raised in a very traditional Catholic family. I was born into a community - entire county - that was either German or Irish and almost 100% Catholic. It isn't the norm of the area today, but I was the second youngest of 13 children. I am the baby girl. And my family was working class.
I was taught from my earliest days that Gorehams don't wait for that lucky day when our fate will change; Gorehams are workers. We don't waste. We do an honest job. We are resourceful. We don't whine; we just do the best we can. Both my parents experienced the Depression of the 30's. They carried with them many lessons from that time. Mom did stay at home and managed that front; Dad did go to work and brought home money. But that's how they worked as a team. My mother and father were extremely intelligent people and they wanted the best for their children in terms of education, moral upbringing, and financial stability. We were to be polite and well-mannered, but never too "chicken" to go for our dreams.
Being the youngest girl of so many meant that my oldest siblings were graduating high school and heading out to establish careers at the time that I was 2. The first two siblings went on to be a lab tech and a nurse - both women. The 3rd chose to go to ISU to be an engineer and to pursue the military through ROTC. I was so impressed when he wore a uniform. Back in the day when VEISHA was truly a reflection of the accomplishments of students at a fine higher education institution the event started with a parade. As the parade progressed, I stood on the side with siblings my age and with my parents. When the ROTC students came down the road driving Jeeps us kids cheered. After all, that was our brother driving one! Each vehicle stopped in front of us. My brother jumped out and picked me up and put me in his Jeep. I rode the rest of the way down the parade - I was 9 or 10. And that was the day I knew that I too would someday join the army.
For all of my 15 years of service I felt accomplished and proud. I had initially enlisted and then became an officer in 1991! My brother was the one who swore me in! I was proud and always felt like I had done something so important for other women wanting to explore all kinds of jobs, for the proud tradition of my family, and for the honor of serving the best nation on the planet.
I became disabled in 2007. I had lost so much and after have worked 26 years of my life I was below poverty level in 2009. I could not get insurance of course as it was before the Affordable Care Act. My parents - now in their 80's - were actually using their social security check to make sure I got the health care I needed. It was all so wrong and it was all so painful to witness. How is it that this country was letting me down? And I did start seeing that those who didn't need money to survive were being given the most monetary assistance. It wasn't right. But I was sick and that was my priority. I stepped away from politics and much of everything at that time. I felt betrayed by my country, my leaders. I hated that damn war in Iraq - sold to us because we truly did fear this country's safety after 9-11. But never finding one Weapon of Mass Destruction made me realize just how badly we were being lied to by our own politicians. I was ANGRY!
I met Bernie Sanders in December 2014. I had actually been told to read about him by a few facebook friends living in Toronto. So I faced my fears of driving and made it to Ames, Iowa about 50 miles from Des Moines. A group of about 40 of us "old people" waited to hear what this guy had to say. I was nervous. Some of my disability had affected my brain. For years I hadn't worked. I wanted to look like that professional I had been before the disability. I wanted to appear sophisticated. So, I had taken time that morning to really look nice. I wore some of the nicest hand-me-downs my sister had given me. I remember sitting at a table waiting for him to make an appearance and did my best to look like I fit in with the other women at my table who I learned were college professionals.
At last, Bernie walks in. His hair is messy. He's wearing an OK suit. He's shaking some hands. And then he gets on the stage and stands behind the podium. Both hands rested on it and I don't remember exactly what he said at first, but I did realize he talked like someone from out East. I don't know why that all mattered so much until he began talking about his position on things. He said - I am tired of the top 1% not paying their share of taxes. We have problems when women only make 75 cents to every man's dollar. It's a problem that young people can't afford college. Climate change is real. And I want to see politics change. The people of this country need to get together and take back the country. (More or less that is what he said.) And then I realized why I liked that first impression. I was no longer feeling on the "outside" of this group of intellectuals. Bernie wasn't any more polished than me. LOL He was a real guy nailing it on the head when he said the People need to and can take back this country.
The crowd started chanting: Run, Bernie. Run One lady whipped out her wallet and said: I brought my checkbook. How much do you need?
Bernie laughed and put his hands up basically saying - none.
Yep...that day I was inspired. That day I took it to heart that the only way to reinstate that pride I once had in being American would be to elect someone like Bernie who had this priority for the people. It meant that from that day forward I'd do much more research into him and what he's done. And I remembered that the office of president wasn't something you just aimed for if you had the correct last name. It wasn't something given to someone who worked hand in hand with the rich and for the rich's best interest. The office of president was a position that leaders would apply for. It was up to me - and the other regular American people - to consider each candidates resume and then for us to HIRE the right person for the job.
And guess what...I've been Feeling the Bern ever since. I like his resume. I like how he interviews. He will get my vote.
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