A Letter To My Country

I was digging through many layers of stored papers, photos, albums deeds, etc yesterday when I came across a letter my father wrote circa 1960. The letter is on his store stationery and the store was still in downtown at that time. It ws locaate on the corner of West 7th and Taylor. Please read the latter and pass it on if you find that this letter, titled “A Letter To My Country”. Written 57 years ago, it is almost prophetic in nature as it fits so well into what we have been facing for the last few years.

A Letter To My Country

By

W. G. Clarkson Jr. (Aug. 22, 1917 – Mar. 24, 1967)

 

Conceived by the seed of thirteen parents and their freedom loving children; carried in the womb of god— fearing, devout Christians; delivered by the gentle but strong hands of the doctors of democracy, the writers and signers of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution; bottle fed with the blood of brave men fighting to preserve your life and rights of generations to come; yours was a costly life to bring into this tormented world, but no one has ever complained of the price they had to pay for you were a handsome infant and showed promise early in life of being a great leader and champion for all that free people hold dear.
As the years went by and you grew from that infant into a strong—limbed adolescent, you became involved in street brawls and neighborhood gang fights protecting your soul and the rights of all free men. Each of these quarrels demanded more transfusions of blood from the strongest, most precious of your family, but they gave willingly without question.
Then came the preliminary scrap and finally the champion— ship fight where thousands came to your aid offering themselves as sacrifice to the gods of war to prevent any harm coming to you and the things you stood for. It wasn’t long after this that you were unwisely guided into a minor, tank town four rounder in which your managers refused to allow you to use your knockout punch. For the first time since your birth you experienced defeat. . . a draw the referee called it. . . and the blood from your cut and bruised lips left an ever lingering taste that will never be forgotten.
But even the taste of defeat was sweet compared to the bitter pill you had to swallow when you realized that there were those among your adopted family, yes, even among your direct descendants, who felt that you had lived long enough, that your principles were archaic and needed to be changed. The rights of your forty—eight children were gradually being usurped by this handful of malcontents…… a minute minority of your millions of relatives…… yet these vast millions sit placidly by on the sidelines and watch while your life blood is gradually drained from your body.
But don’t despair, my proud but weakened champion. There are still a few in the millions of your family who have inherited from those who conceived, carried, delivered and fed you with their life’s blood the belief that the God given rights you stand for are still all important and even though you have been gradually fed the drugs of socialism and the police state. . . yes, even the police state…they know in their hearts that the fight is not over. There is still the final round to be fought and inherently they know that no matter what they must sacrifice you must emerge victorious for the sake of the world and generations to come. Strangely, those who have weakened you have thru their actions also strengthened you for they have awakened others of your family who know that neither world government nor the welfare state can begin to replace the heritage guaranteed in our Declaration of Independence and the Constitution…….and neither ethereal promises nor the bayonet at our throats will bring us to desert you in your time of greatest need. The continuance of your great and glorious existence is far more important than the cost that may be exacted from your sons in protecting you and all that you stand for. In the end you will reign as the undefeated champion in the eyes of the world’s peoples a golden symbol of those things we hold go dear.

About Wiley

I am a Christian Biblical Egalitarian who is 67 years young who retired on Feb 24, 2011 after being employed by Securitas Security Services at the Comanche Peak Nuclear Power Plant since August 26, 1983 as a Central Alarm Station operator and an Armed Security Officer. Comanche Peak is a nuclear powered high pressure reactor electric generating facility owned by Luminant. I have a wonderful wife, Linda, to whom I have been happily married for over 42 years. We have three daughters and son-in-laws and five grandchildren. My wife and I have lived in rural North Central Texas on a small ranch for 37 years. I started blogging because I can be very opinionated and this has turned out to be a very good way to state my opinions! If you want further info, see my web page titled "About Us" on http://www.clarksons.org
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