Dear America,

Back to basics; that's what today is all about.

Just in case you did not get the word, yesterday was the last day of summer, officially; this morning marks the beginning of the next nine months of routine, regime change, reform, reading - writing - arithmetic to the tenth degree, and rebirth.

School is back in session, let us give thanks and praise for it is good.

Of course, with my girl reaching the monumental first day of high school, nothing can really prepare you; she's like, not saying a word in the car, not moving a muscle except for the occasional fidget with her hair -- she has no idea, nor does she care, about my feelings in this moment; she just wants to get there and get out of the car so she can catch up to her friends and pick up her schedule.

Bye.

Have a nice day, sweetheart...

As I exit stage right with a huge tear traveling down my left cheek, mixed with mascara, of course; just throw on a smear of red lipstick and put a cigarette in my hand, and you've got a basket case resembling every child's worst nightmare of the first day of school.

At least this morning, it was an organized chaos of emotional breakdowns and separation anxiety -- the kids just hopped out of the cars one by one, never looking back, as they knew and wanted none of it.

Buh bye.

But to put this in perspective, it really stands as a moment that will not return for another four years, okay.  Yes, admittedly, I am a cry baby much of the time -- from sappy commercials to current events, from routine to rhapsady, from ordinary to extraordinary, from east to west, north and south -- I live by holding my emotions so close to my heart, it hurts some days.  But be that as it may, it's a big day, okay.

Last Saturday was no exception to big days either.

And from which I have made a pact, with myself and the world, that I will not sit idly by for no one or anyone.  Beck calls it the 40 days and 40 nights challenge; how about the next forty years, beckmeister fuller?

SO moving into more of reform and regime change and rebirth -- let us add good old fashioned religious  revival, pep rally and the beginnings of a new revolution; talking about waving the school colors, proud and patriotic; talk about a sea to shining sea of bubbling-over emotion from the bleachers to the sidelines, the south forty to center field; talk about a chorus of song and cheer rising with every thunderous call to glory...

if you were lucky enough to be there, count yourself one of the half a million fortunate flock all nestled, natured and nurtured for the event enlivened by the notion that the day has every potential of masterminding into a second coming of perhaps another Noah, or a Moses -- just as any other guy on a mission from God would do.  My freshman jealousy is unbridled and flying through the gymnasium roof at this point; but for the sake of not going entirely and absolutely mad for not making the trek across the national quad to get there, it is done.  No sense crying over spilt milk when the Oreo cookies are still in the bag, right?

We have work to do.

Time to buckle down and get at it.

The real tasks are still at hand, with more homework than one could rightfully and successfully do in one night -- let alone forty; it is more like "weeks, months, years" as a famous donkey once said.

One of the most astonishing moments of the day -- GB's day, RESTORING HONOR 8/28 -- came in on a wing and a prayer at the beginning; and if you blinked you might have missed it.

Now bear in mind, Beck really, really wanted something like the Blue Angels barreling by to mark such an occasion; but having the airspace unauthorized for making such a feat of fant-asmic flight of fury, the wild blue yonder could not be made available.  Beck had to settle for his festival of faith, day of "Faith, Hope and Charity" event of the season, having to go without a few bells and short a few whistles. 

Nope.  Can't be done, he was told.  Do not even think about it.  Not on your life.  No way. For you?  You kidding me, right?

Skip to nine fifty nine on the dot on the clock, Saturday.

And the Lord said, "Not; not on my watch."

Do you know who you're dealing with?  Do you?  Dooooo you?

This is God's world, God's people, God's moment to remind us who we are and where we come from.

This event was not of this world at all.

This day IS graced by God; and it was good.

And, it embodied every living and breathing good thing about leaving a legacy of faith to our children, and each and every generation to come.  And not just by one faith, but by ALL of them, hand in hand (reminiscent of  "the black-robed regiment" -- look into that, if you really want to learn something about our history). 

So please, heaven forbid you listen to the naysayers and party poopers and not the pep squad; it's not just the judeo-christian roots here we are talking about (even though, the teachings thereof directly relate to who we are as a nation; one cannot deny the truth.  For the J-C history and humanities prerequisites made us good.  VERY good.)  The message sent out to the world is one of it's kind -- it is the universal faith found in common with nearly every soul on earth which GB clings to, and takes hold so tight, never letting go.

It is not politics; nor is it about the color of one's skin; it is the content of our character (and that which we should teach more of in our schools, but save that for another day).

Sure, GB was entirely misunderstood and mis-characterized from the very start through to the finish by most of the lame-stream  media, there is that; but for those of us who know better, know the truth, don't we.

We know what happened.

We know what it means.

We know how to use it to the best and the brightest of our abilities and attributes.

For WE are marshall; we are WE THE PEOPLE; and WE -- along with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit -- know best.

Affirming our faith and good will and our offering of ourselves to God and all that is Good did not go unnoticed.  God was watching; and He sent us a sign dwarfing even the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument and the illumined reflection pool in between...

for just as the band began to play,

out from the heavens came a flock in formation, rising above the half a million or more gazing up into the sky...geese...as if dressed for the occasion in v-necks and bows...gliding gently and joyfully across the pond, as if miracles happen every day -- but don't get used to it! -- wake up! for God is ringing the bell! and He wants you! to want all that is good! and all that is great! and become something marvelous and beautiful for all the world to see and behold.

Make no mistake, the geese -- flying high and flying low, flying V and flying slow --  were a larger than life sign from God, saying,

Do not fret my child, for I am here; I will always be here; whenever you need me, I am here.  

In good days and bad, you will find me; in honor or shame, you will find me; in happiness or despair, you will find me. 

Search, knock, seek and find, in all the days of your life, I AM.

And of course, when you are ready to talk about your day -- as I am just itchin' to hear all about every bit of it -- I am here for you, because I love you with all my heart; and it is here I wait... for you... to come home... to me

(and just so you know -- at the risk of sounding like one too many I told you so's -- I have been here the whole time; but don't hate, as you kids so often say today; don't get me wrong, baby -- I am not mad; quite the contrary -- just happy you are safe and in my arms once again...have a cookie).

Here's to milk and cookies for everyone.
There is more than enough to go around.
Just a little faith and perhaps as many as 500,000 disciples will make it so.

Make it a Good Day, G (little g that is...oh so little... g...)

couldn't find a flock of geese playing in a band, so you got second best, click away on dear america...

see also words of wisdom from Barbara Jordan in my sidebar; it is there everyday, but today, it seems to really shine...it's the little things we do, you know what I mean, peaches and cream?