Music and Amusement.

Tonight, this:

The Beth Israel Congregation in Jackson, Mississippi (same name as my congregation in Connecticut), home of the Institute of Southern Jewish Life (home of a virtual Torah study I've enjoyed for years), was victimized by arson early this year.  It is one of many incidents of anti-Jewish action not just in the USA, but all around the world since Hamas struck in October 2023.

Today is Flag Day, and somebody in my community posted a poem:

I am the flag of the United States of America.

​My name is Old Glory.

 

I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.

I stand watch in America's halls of justice.

I fly majestically over institutions of learning.

I stand guard with power in the world.

Look up and see me.

​

I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.

I stand for freedom. I am confident.

I am arrogant. I am proud.

When I am flown with my fellow banners,

My head is a little higher,

My colors a little truer.

 

I bow to no one!

I am recognized all over the world.

I am worshipped - I am saluted.

I am loved - I am revered.

I am respected - I am feared.

I have fought in every battle of every war for more than 200 years.

I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appamatox.

I was there at San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy.

Guam, Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me.

 

I was there. I led my troops.

I was dirty, battleworn and tired,

but my soldiers cheered me and I was proud.

I have been burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries

I have helped set free. It does not hurt for I am invincible.

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and trampled in the streets of my country.

And when it's done by those whom I've served in battle - it hurts.

 

But I shall overcome - for I am strong.

I have slipped the bonds of earth and

stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.

I have born silent witness to all of America's finest hours.

 

But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the battle field,

when I am flown at half mast to honor my soldier,

or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,

​

I am proud.

I am the flag of the United States of America.

Originally entitled, My Name is Old Glory by Howard Schnauber

© 1994 the author [Mr. Schnauber has given permission to the public to use this poem for program or publishing purposes. Please credit the Fort Collins Public Library Local History Archive, Oral History Interview of Mr. Howard Schnauber, the author.] 

A friend told me about the "Rise Up, Sing Out" concert that No Kings is hosting today.

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It's been a fiber-y week otherwise.  On Monday evening, the Triangle Fiber Guild had a class on Tunisian Crochet.  I didn't get a copy of the handout, but figured out two of the stitches from the teacher's demonstration:

I plan to take this out and restart at seven inches width, so it can be a Warm Up, America! blanket piece.

At the end of the week I went to a professional conference, in St. Louis but not near the ballpark.  Which was fine because the Cardinals are not in town this week.  With the NBA and NFL finals, and the start of the FIFA World Cup, is anybody focused on baseball this week?

While there, I finished a scarf:

Middle is a strip of Red Heart All-in-One Granny 
yarn, left over from a scarf.  I picked up on the 
sides with Big Twist in red, and worked longways.

The photo was taken at the airport, just before I packed the scarf and took out another project.  It is a small sweater using two hanks of ChemKnits Creations yarn.  My return flight was badly delayed so I arrived in the wee hour of Saturday morning, and took this photo while I knitted at luggage claim:

Saturday was World Wide Knit in Public Day, and I continued to work on the sweater throughout the day, while I was at TheaterFESTival to learn about local companies (I found two or three with which I may work), and in the evening when I went to see "The Mystery of Irma Vep" as it was closing and that was my only opportunity.  My mother worried that I would be too tired, but the play is lively and full of tricks so I was fine.

The sweater now looks like this:

It's below the sleeves, working on the body until the rainbowy yarn runs out.