Many college kids are home this weekend, beginning a full week out of classes in order to celebrate the most American of all holidays. My two arrived home last night.

At mid-day, one son was on his way back from the airport after picking up a former neighborhood buddy from ten years ago when we lived in another state. The buddy is coming to our area to join cousins for Thanksgiving and a reunion of sorts among childhood friends, my two sons.

These three boys were “best friends” during their wonder years. They built forts in the woods, formed and were the leaders of neighborhood clubs, and conducted “training” and “drills” in defense of their community against unknown and unseen enemies. This is how they played. This is what boys do.

At mid-day, the other son was with me at home when I determined the most important use of my precious time for the remainder of the day was to answer the call to stand up for freedom. The note had passed through facebook, “Capitol, east side, 1 p.m.”

The boys are big now. All “off to college” and off to some of the freedoms of living away from parents, and moving to what they initially think is liberation from the old-fashioned values of their parents. However, they have been paying attention. Now they have seen a tiny bit of the real world and perhaps some of the heartache and self-destruction of others that result from abandoning the tried and true. Now we learn that perhaps we have been successful in building them into men of true character, who will also answer the call to do the right thing in defending the ideas of the nation that they call “home.”

I call the son on his way back from the airport. They have stopped for lunch. I ask if they would be interested in going to the Capitol to protest the impending Senate action to enact the government take-over of healthcare. They say yes.

At home, I ask the other son. Let him know that the other two who were headed to the house are going direct to the Metro station. He says, “yes. when are we leaving?” Ten minutes later, we are on our way.

We drove into Arlington, and then transitioned to the Metro. Received a text from the other boy, already at the location. There were a few people gathered there. The police told them to move off of the capitol courtyard and onto the grass. Police also informed them that they must stay only in small groups because they did not have a “permit” for a protest.

Changing Metro trains from the Yellow to the Orange, I see a couple, my age, carrying flags on small poles: “Are you going to the Capitol?” … “Yes.”

We arrived at Capital South Metro station at about 1:15 and traveled the two blocks north and west to the east side of the capitol building. There we meet up with the other son, and the childhood chum. It was a surreal moment among the four of us, these three wet-behind-the-ears young men and me, the old warrior.

These boys have already experienced, in their lives, significant historical events that are the outward indicators of the eternal battle between good and evil. In September of 2001, while I was on the other side of the world and trying to get home to my family, these boys of 10 and 11 years old, worked together on their own initiative to fashion signs reading “God Bless America.” Then over the course of several days, they stood along a major highway and displayed their patriotic message for the drive home commuters.

Although they were nearly half a world away from the locations of the attacks, they knew that the attacks were symbolically against them, against our family, against our home, against our community and against our values.

There was a small but growing group on the lawn east of the capitol, many holding signs. Some with ‘homemade’ literature to distribute to compatriots and passers-by. There is someone speaking through a small portable loudspeaker. We join the group.

The group was a slice from across America; young, old, and in the middle. As far as their livelihoods, some were from the private sector, some from the public sector, some business owners, some retired and some not yet ready to enter the work force. None within the group were dressed or carried themselves in a way as if they were wealthy or from the privileged class. These people were from the middle of America, that largest part of America.

Yes, the group included some “minorities.” An older black man, and a younger black woman, the two of them not related. The term “black” is used here because that is how the woman described herself. In discussion, see pointed out that she is not from Africa. She is American, and she is black, and therefore, by her own definition is a “black American.” She was very articulate with her description of our struggle. She shared with us that most of the ‘black community’ actually holds to conservative values, but that they are stuck on the “race thing,” and that is why they vote as they do. It is an amazing. yet sad phenomenon. It is also interesting to know, that this black woman was the one who traveled the greatest distance, across several states, and from the South, to be with us, to defend her freedom.

Several yards away, there is a group of five or six “twenty-somethings” decked out in tuxedos and fancy dresses. This is a street theater group sent there to mock us. Their gig is to portray “Rich Republicans who don’t care about the little people and just want to get more rich” silliness – It is becoming an old routine. These groups are common counter-protestors. Someone indicated they are actually paid to put on their little shows. They are quiet reprehensible since, like in the 60’s, they are likely to have come from wealthy families themselves, then come out to protest against the middle-class.

After a time, the man with the microphone kit unfurls a large American flag. He is well versed in the history of our country, writings and quotes from the founders, and the detailed threats to our liberty that are posed by the radical agenda of those now in power. He leads us in spreading the flag above us as we hold it up, both literally and figuratively. He reminds us that this flag, originally in the early times of our nation, was called the “Liberty Flag.” This man is not a politician, he holds no office, and nobody commissioned him to take on a leading role at this event. Yet, he is a leader, in the truest sense of the word.

This man speaks of deputizing all that are there present. We take an oath, with the Liberty Flag as our witness. The group of dozens of patriots who answered the call this day joined in recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, to our flag, a flag that has a meaningful connection to the Constitution of our nation.

Then we conducted an open forum, discussing features of the history and ideals of this great land. We discussed the threats that now present themselves before us, and we discussed the commitment necessary among a people to secure and maintain their freedom.

The mockers continued to mock us. Occasionally we engaged in chant battles, drowning them out not only with volume but also with the truth, conviction, and morality of our message against the snide, cynical, derogatory nature of their words.

At one point, a “big camera’ video crew showed up. Although we made invitations to engage with our group and talk with us, they only shot video from afar, until they turned their attention to the counter-protestors. There seemed to be a greater affinity there between leftist press and leftist mockers.

Among us, we discussed entering the Capitol, by lawful means and with great decorum, to witness the proceedings. Some noted that during other session, visits to the gallery were limited to 10 minutes before visitors were asked to move on. Undoubtedly, a measure that we have allowed over the years to be adopted in response to tourism, as if:

Go to DC and watch the government process. See the legislative factory in motion, but once you have watched the sausage machine for a few minutes, there is nothing else to see. You got your thrill being so close to power for a moment, now move on, go back to you little lives in the hinterland, now that you can brag that you were able to see the US Senate in action.

Then the news came.

Via cell phone, or text message, someone among us was notified that the vote for cloture had already been taken, and that the measure had passed.

Tourists placidly passed by the Capitol building, and a large group of high school age people too. As they passed by, possibly oblivious to the proceedings taking place behind the marble façade, an arrow had pierced the skin of our nation. An arrow of evil had pierced the skin of the body of our freedom.

So here we are, humanity is again one step closer to re-attempting the experiment called “Socialism.” Socialism: the idea that lead to the murder of hundreds of millions of decent human beings during the 20^th Century. Is it any wonder that this new slippery slope begins for us with a collective policy that may result in the passive murder of unknown numbers of people who develop illnesses that are treatable and curable? Is it any wonder that this new slippery slope begins with a collective policy that is likely to result in the public funding, and publicly funded promotion, of the destruction of the unborn? No, it is no wonder at all. Those who push these agendas are morally confused through their dedication to developing an amoral world, and through their selfish dedication to becoming the gods of that world.

The continuance of the life of our nation will be determined by our actions from this day forward. To do nothing more is to give up, and for any individual to give up is equal to an active decision to surrender one’s freedom – and the freedom of others as well.

Immediately after the attacks of 9/11, little boys banded together to give of themselves, in the only way that they could, and at the same time, in every way that they could, to further the cause of protecting and defending our nation and our ideals. Those little boys, who were in a stage of their life developing physical courage, also employed their moral courage at the moment it was called for. They did not offer much, but they did offer all.

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