By Steve Woodward
A brilliant sun rose July 4, 2023, over Moore County and, soon a brilliant Carolina blue sky emerged. In every hamlet and town, children were reminded anew what this day is about. Mom and dad brought out the red-white-and-blue shirts, and little American flags to be waved by little hands. There was conversation about a parade, and when it would start, and which neighbors would be coming out, and about leaving in time to give Gramma a ride.
Vehicles were adorned by colorful banners, flags, signs, and driven into the streets by costumed operators, sweltering beneath military attire and headgear. Everywhere, there was optimism and joy. The air was full of freedom, and we made sure to breathe it in because a mere two or three years ago government tyrants empowered by a presumed “health crisis” started crushing our freedom. Nothing was off the table. School, work, Christmas dinner, fireworks and, sadly, parades — our uniquely American way of uniting amid division, in sprawling cities and one-traffic light towns.
But we are back in 2023, with so much to parade about, so much to march about, shout about and, yes, worry about.
Independence Day on this, America’s 247th birthday, was readily anticipated, easily embraced and responsible for cherished memories. We always wonder what the world is thinking when it sees these images, the fireworks, the big, jacked up pickup trucks, the sporty convertibles, and the people. Amid all of the strife in this world, and the relentless attacks by radical Left throngs spreading into every aspect of American life, and the attacks on morality, Christianity and the most basic characteristic of human beings, gender, the people still gather, prayerfully and defiantly.
Why are our spirits not dampened on our national day of celebration? Because of what we do the other 364 days of the year. Because of the work we do in the shadows, the toiling and the contemplating, and the strategizing. Because there remain parents who know it their responsibility to raise their children and shield them from the deviance poisoning our popular culture and our education systems. Because we know what time it is. The hour is late in America.
But be not dismayed. Let me tell you about a friend of ours in Moore County, and let me remind you that it is not always soaring rhetoric and political discourse that has the power to inspire.
If we want to save our Republic, and make America even greater again, and stand in the breech of history and shout, stop, we need to take a cue from Miriam Chu. We need to be selfless in volunteering our time and talents (and hers are vast). We need to put in the time it takes to complete the task, and be gracious toward those who bring more excuses than excitement to the project at hand. We need to forego sleep, forge on when we’re tired, and hot, and sweating, and covered in paint, and glue, and choked by dust. We need to get by on Diet Pepsi and a slice of pizza, or a burger. We need to measure twice, cut once, create, recreate, imagine, reimagine, and seize a new idea only to replace it by an even better one.
We need to make the impossible happen using limited resources and against ominous odds. We need keep our eyes always on the prize. And in that final hour, when we know the end is near and our work is nearly done, we take a nap, and rise up stronger than ever to stand victorious with the wind and a soaring eagle at our back.
This is not platitude. This is the story of how Moore County’s Republican Party was represented on July 4, 2023, on the streets of Carthage, with throngs of waving, applauding citizens as far as the eye could see, observing with awe Miriam’s Eagle.
It was the perfect expression of what Americans can do when we summon our best instincts and get to work in the spirit of our Founders.