Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

I am a card carrying member of the ACLU because civil liberties are the fulfilled American promise of freedom.  Do you know how precious American freedom is and how amazing the minds and hands from which this promise came to us?  Do you know the passion and perserverance of the birth of this dream of freedom we experience and take for granted daily?  If you do I doubt you will forget, and you will understand why I would defend a person's right to burn an American flag when I deeply love the symbol.  Below is my favorite 4th of July story based on the work of James Parton entitled "The Story of 'The Star-Spangled Banner' which appears in The Book of American Traditions edited by Emyl Jenkins.  I read it every 4th of July, and it brings good tears to my eyes and reminds me of my thrilling good fortune to be an American in communion with the characters in this story.  

The British, now our greatest friend and ally, was still seething in 1812 over America's Declaration of Independence and victory in the Revoluntion.  After defeating Napolean the British headed for America to right a wrong and take back the colonies.  The coast bustled with preparation to once again face the mother enemy, especially at Ft. McHenry, two miles south of Baltimore.  This was to become the place of American testing and the birth of great American symbols.

The people of Ft. McHenry, under the leadership of Lieutenant-Colonel George Armistead, strengthened its fortifications with resolve to meet head on the challenge.  While men put additional guns into position the women of Baltimore joined in the preparation by making a gigantic star-spangled banner to fly over the fort.  As is often the case, the men sought to make it work and the women sought to make it inspired by beauty.    

Mary Pickergill, with the help of her daughter, made the flag out of four hundred yards of bunting.  Thirty by 42 feet, it was too large to spread anywhere but in the malt-house of a neighboring brewery.  Mary's daughter at age 76 remembered her mother's resolve:

"I remember seeing my mother down on the floor placing the stars.  After the completion of the flag she superintended the topping of it, having it fastened in the most secure manner to prevent its being torn away by balls.  The wisdom of her precaution was shown during the engagement, many shots piercing it, but it still remained firm to the staff...My mother worked many nights until twelve o'colock to complete it in a given time." 

Seven thousand British showed up on September 11 landing 12 miles below Baltimore.  Three thousand militiamen from Maryland and Pennsylvania withstood the attack while British vessels moved up the river, anchored at Ft. McHenry to begin attack.  The bombardment was to last 24 hours.

Francis Scott Key - poet, lawyer and unlikely witness to the battle - found himself squarely in the middle of the action having gone to Baltimore to speak with British Admiral Cockburn under a flag of truce to secure the release of Key's aged family friend, Dr. Beanes,  from the British.  Cockburn denied the request but detained Key on board a frigate Surprise until the conclusion of the battle. 

The arcs of fire raged all day and into the night as Key and several other Americans watched from the deck of the enemy ship.   The day passed to night,  and the anxiety of the Americans mounted with their inability to tell who was winning the battle. 

"Suddenly, about three in the morning, the firing ceased.  As they were anchored at some distance from the British vessels, they were utterly t a loss to interpret this mysterious silence.

Had the fort surrendered?

As they walked up and down the deck of their vessel in the darkness and silence of the night, they kept going to the binnacle to look at their watches to see how many minutes more must elapse before they could discern whether the flag over Fort Mchenry was the star-spangled banner, or the union jack of England.

The daylight dawned at length.  With a thrill of triumph and gratitude, they saw that 'our flag was still there.'  They soon perceived from many other signs that the attack, both by land and sea, had failed and that Baltimore was safe."

This moment in time inspired Keys to take from his pocket a letter upon the back of which he wrote his feelings.  Several days after the battle Keys' poem had been printed and distributed around Baltimore, and an actor and soldier named Ferdinand Durang selected the tune of an old English song, "To Anacreon in Heaven", written in 1772 by John Stafford Smith, to accompany the poem.  It took.  By the 1890's the American military had adopted the song for ceremonial purposes to be played upon the raising or lowering of the flag.  By 1917 the military designated the song as the "national anthem" for ceremonial purposes, and on March 3, 1931, President Herbert Hoover signed a law passed by Congress declaring it our official national anthem.

Mary Pickergill's flag remains today at the Smithsonian.  It is now 30 x 34 feet, having lost eight inches and one star to battle and time.  But it remains.  And we remain.

"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, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness....

...with a firm reliance on the Protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."

Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, July 4, 1776

The reason we call the coffee table by that name is because it used to be used to serve coffee.  I resurrected this lovely custom recently and had a charming cup of coffee.   I wonder why coffee tastes better in a thin porcelain art deco cup than in a mug.  It isn't my imagination; I suppose all things taste better when graciousness is part of the mix.

Graciousness does not have ulterior motives.  It is a quality of kindness, courtesy, tact, delicacy, charm, good taste and generosity of spirit.   Respect is implied when we offer graciousness, whether that respect is returned or not.  To live graciously is to treat everyday events as worthy expressions of art.  Even a cup of coffee.  It means treating others as worthy of respect, whether they are or not. 

Have you ever noticed that the most beautiful times of day are times of transition - early morning and twilight?  I have wondered if this is because of the exquisite truth in silence and anticipation of change in light.  An Ethiopian proverb echoes this theme:

"Truth and morning become light with time."

Summer is the best season of all, and the image above is one of the reasons.  Even when temperatures soar near 100 degrees during the first week of June, it is bearable.  Summer is what every other season is waiting for - the fullness of nature, the world brimming with life, the ripeness of fruits and vegetables and, of course, homemade ice cream.  Magic happens in Summer's lushness, and with this photograph I welcome you to my Summer paradise.  Won't you come in and have some virtual lemonade over crushed ice?

For Mary Magdalene - the Agapanthus, aka African Lily, has traditionally symbolized one of the greatest nymphs of all time.

The gardenia is a signature scent of the South, and my gardenia just bloomed in the garden.  Above is a gardenia from my garden - that breathtaking white bloom, velvet like in texture and heavy with scent.  The gardenia is different from most white flowers in that it does have such an in-your-face smell, completely unlike the typical light, fresh smell of white flowers.   No innocence here.  The gardenia invites you to light some garden candles, strip and run through the sprinkler singing the song of nymphs...do you know what that is?  

"Things are not only capable of true intimacy, they also bring a high degree of sensuality into our lives.  We touch them, look at them, listen to them, clean them, oil them, decorate them. "  Thomas Moore from The Soul of Sex.

Thomas Moore considers his piano and books to be erotic objects in his life.  He describes in detail the relationship he shares with his "brown elephant" of a piano and the friendship he feels toward his books.  I can't think of many things in my life more intimate, sensual or erotic than my hairstyx collected over the years.  These objects have glided through my hair, touched my scalp and curved upward to secure my hair over the years.  I selected them for their artistic value, and they became symbols of years, even if I cannot tell you which years go best with which styx.  They have been lovely and functional little tools that reside in a green antique vase in the back of an armoire in my bathroom.  I have pulled them out and made them into a graceful pattern of energy...would that you could feel the wood, metals and stones beyond observation in a graphic design.  Soon they will reside in my hair again, and they will make me more myself again. 

Thomas Moore's question inspired me to celebrate in art this one group of lovely objects indwelling my life behind armoire doors.  It is nice to bring them out and stroke them with my imagination. 

What are the erotic objects of your life?  How do you relate sensually to the precious objects of your world?  How are you enriched and your soul fed with the peaches and cream of your material world?       

There are different ways of expressing anger, some indirect and others more direct. Whichever way expressed, the human psyche usually senses the hostile presence of rage, whether it can be correctly labeled or not. In other words, exposure to phosphine will kill you whether or not you can name it due to its noxious and corrosive nature.

Indirect expressions of anger include:

sulking; pouting; teasing others; using sarcasm; ignoring, feeling suspicious, wary or cynical; competitiveness through intellectualizing; getting even in sneaky ways; humble competitiveness through comparision of self and others; eye rolling.

Direct expressions of anger include:

feeling resentful; acting helpless; lying; acting dismissive; exploding; pointing out another's inadequacies; disparaging efforts or accomplishments of others; acting aggressively competitive, feeling hostile; showing your superiority; challenging others; overreacting to a real or implied criticism; projection.

Even when we do not express anger directly - and, I submit, most of the time we don't in what we call civilized community - it may be seeping out and puddling around our feet. And the oddest thing about anger is how it attracts anger. The truth of the matter is that we live in a stressed out, angry society. We are doomed to slip in puddles unless we do three things - become aware of the various faces of anger, do the hard work required to deal with the root cause of our own anger and avoid stepping in a puddle of another.

Annabelle Hydrangea (Hydrangea arborescens) beside the front porch through an iron looking glass of sorts...as white as white can be.