Good morning, and let me tell you, I for one am deeply disappointed. I thought the Maine National Guard had been fully deployed to the southern border, ready to repel the “caravans” headed this way. Now I find that we may be going back to Korea. As my old boss Samuel Goldwyn said, “Include me out.”
I was under the impression that 45 had called upon all the states to send their guardsmen to the southern regions. That sounded to me like a battle cry, and I got excited.
There has been such a brouhaha in Waterville with all of these petitions that everyone is terrified to sign that I thought this was a great time to change the subject, to put Maine’s footprint on the muddy banks of the Rio Grande.
Not since my dreams of a subway line through Waterville have I had such fevered dreams of a “great unfurling” as in flags, banners, military bands with fifes and drums. You know what I’m saying to you here?
Forty-five tweeted, “The lawlessness that continues at our southern border is fundamentally incompatible with the safety, security, and sovereignty of the American people, and we have no choice but to act.” Don’t know who really wrote that, but it sounds glorious to me. Have you not seen any of Mel Gibson’s great war movies? Wake up.
After he who stomps and bellows, coughs and gestures with great threats to rouse his base announced his plans to secure the border, I saw memories of all my childhood war heroes in full uniform unfurling in my daydreams: John Wayne, Ronnie Reagan, Clark Gable and Lana Turner.
Lana Turner in “Homecoming,” for pity’s sake. How old are you people?
Fueled by my two double-grande, low-fat-mocha no-whips that morning, I basked in childhood visions of the great unfurling of faded photos on old Life Magazine covers.
Imagine, if you will, dozens of buses parked on the shores of the Kennebec, engines throbbing at rest, as guardsmen young and old from Bangor to Hallowell arrive at Head of Falls in family cars, on bikes, motorcycles and skateboards, resplendent in battle gear, prepared to deploy.
Try to picture it: mothers and daughters, sisters and sweethearts hugging the troops; proud fathers wiping tears from sunburned cheeks. I could hear the ghost of Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain himself shouting, “Remember Little Round Top. Hurrah boys, hurrah!”
Gov. Paul LePage will be there, ankle deep in the Kennebec, with a re-sale store uniform decked with ribbons and medals and one of those Teddy Roosevelt campaign hats with a great white plume atop, waving the blue and gold flag of Maine and shouting, “Dirigo.”
Yes, I know, he never served, but he’s our governor, for heaven’s sake; the world is watching. You know what I’m saying to you here?
Bands, yes bands. We gotta have bands, high school bands, bands from Colby and Thomas, rows of drums and brass, lots of brass. Nothing gets the American blood pumping like brass.
Fill the air with martial themes, boys, lots of that John Philip Sousa stuff like “The Stars and Stripes Forever,” “The Gladiator March,” “The Gallant Seventh” and “Hands Across the Sea.” That one always brought a tear to my eye.
OMG! I almost forgot battle cries. We’ll have to have some printed out for the troops. We can’t go to the front of anywhere without a proper battle cry, like “Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead” or “Remember the Alamo.” And the most chilling of all from Crazy Horse of the Lakota Sioux, “Hokahey, today is a good day to die.”
Oh no! Breaking news on Katy Tur’s hour. Forty-five has given the order to stand down and is preparing himself, Rudy Giuliani and Melania to leave for North Korea, thus leaving us here to defend our border alone.
I’ll give him a personal tip about Korean food: Kimchi is not a cheeseburger. Hurrah, boys. Remember the Chosin Reservoir.
J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer.
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