On my trip yesterday, we passed these people waving the American flag and one or two POW MIA flags as well from an overpass to honor what occurred on Sept 11th. It looked like they’d been enduring the rain all day which was especially hard at this spot in Virginia for a while. One of them was a firefighter in full gear and I couldn’t distinguish the rest, but I felt this Whitman poem was especially appropriate.
“I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be
blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves
off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the
deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter
singing as he stands
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the
morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at
work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to no one else,
The day what belongs the day- at night the part of
young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.”