50 Star United States Flag-with a bonus

Fact of the Day-Our 50 Star Flag(with a bonus)

I feel compelled to put something up on this date every year regarding this. I didn’t know the guy or the teacher, except by name, and I liked the story. I’ve lived in Lancaster for over 38 years, so I can claim this one, although my heart remains in a little town called Mantua in northern Ohio. We moved to November 2022.

Anyway, it’s an interesting story from when schools expected more from students. First, an Ohio high school student designed the 50-star American flag for a class project. Then, the kid goes a step further and designs a 51-star American flag as extra credit.

We’re talking about a 17-year-old Lancaster High student, Robert G. Heft, in 1958, as a school project designed the 50-star American flag. Originally Heft received a B– for the project, even with what I consider extra credit.

After discussing the grade with his teacher, they agreed (somewhat jokingly) that if Congress accepted the flag, the grade would be reconsidered. One strict teacher when it comes to handing out grades.

Well, Heft’s flag design was chosen and adopted by presidential proclamation. I guess Ike liked it, so his campaign slogan was “I Like Ike!” Not really, but I had to throw it in even though it makes no sense here.

According to Heft, his teacher changed his grade to an A for the project. The teacher was Stanley Pratt. As an aside, Heft’s mother was a seamstress. You may think he cheated, but she didn’t help since it was his project. Back then, parents didn’t do the homework for their kids. I’ve read Heft sewed the final flag together in 12 1/2 hours. As I said, he also designed a 51-star flag—a fascinating picture of his gravestone.

Another aside, but you can stop reading here. The B- to A grade thing just hit me. In sixth grade, I received an ‘F’ in handwriting. I had a teacher who wasn’t content to give an ‘F’ though; she had to do it in red ink. Toward the end of the year, a handwriting sample of all students was sent to the Ohio Department of Education.

Guess what? My writing that earned an ‘F’ received one of only four Superior Awards for our school. My picture was even in the newspaper with the other kids wearing my short jeans and tennis shoes. But, my grade on my report card went from F to A, maybe A+, during the final grading period. I can’t remember now, but I hope it was a different color ink. It is a colorful report card, though. I should post it someday.

The Great Courses

The Great Courses
I just finished the first lecture, and I look forward to the remainder by Dr.Sheldon. There were a couple of interesting facts I wasn’t aware of. Like Sheldon, I lived it. Unlike most 11 year-olds, I wasn’t enamored by the Beatles at all at first. The Ed Sullivan Show and Beatles were interfering with a show I liked on Disney. As part of a family, I was forced to watch by my 29 year-old mother, who loved music and dancing.
It wasn’t until the next day, on the bus to school and once in the building, that I thought perhaps I missed something in my anger, having missed an episode of a favorite show. All kids could talk about was the Beatles. I listened. I had heard the songs the evening before. While I wasn’t impressed, others were. The more I listened to others, the more my thoughts transformed.
I was becoming a reluctant Beatles fan. The Beatles would not replace my desire to pitch a Little League game, but I looked forward to their next appearance.
The Beatles were not enough to sway my dad to allow me a different type of haircut. It would remain for me a butch or flat top for the foreseeable future. But in time, I would become a fan, and now, sixty years later, I seek out their music on YouTube.

Juries and Jury Duty: What is it like to be a juror?

Juries and Jury Duty: What is it like to be a juror?

I’ll answer based on my one experience as a juror; it was enlightening for future work. I was selected just as I was beginning my first year of law school.

The defendant was charged with driving under the influence of alcohol. He blew a .23, about three times the legal limit today. Then, in 1979, the limit was .10, but unlike today, it was not a presumption of guilt. The prosecutor had to prove his erratic driving was the result of being intoxicated. The test was nothing more than a piece of evidence, not the determining factor.

The prosecutor was a young man with a belligerent attitude. The defense attorney was an older man with a balding head and graying beard. Unlike the prosecutor, he looked gentlemanly and distinguished. From working in the clerk of the court’s office, I knew both.

For about six hours, we listened to testimony. The breathalyzer test was explained in a way that was understandable. The defendant took the stand in his own defense. He had been visiting his girlfriend in Akron and was going home to the Youngstown area. His drive required him to pass through our county at about 2:30 a.m. He admitted drinking but attributed his poor driving to being tired.

The prosecutor smirked and questioned him to the point of ridicule. The defense attorney remained the calm professional we, the jury, perceived him to be.

After closing arguments, which were better than the trial in highlighting the contrasting styles of the attorneys, we retired to the jury room. I lived in a somewhat small but growing rural county. One of the jurors was from my hometown. We numbered six, all with varying backgrounds. We introduced ourselves with a little background statement to get to know each other. Because I was in law school, I was selected as a jury foreman.

Not much of a reason to be selected foreman, and it didn’t carry much weight. But it did give me a certain privilege, it seems. I suggested an immediate vote without much discussion to gauge where we were. It was something I’d seen in a movie(12 Angry Men), and I thought we were already unanimous. It had to be discussed, though, and the discussion really turned to our thoughts on the case, which means it initially failed.

The opening shot came from the man I knew from where I grew up. He didn’t like the reliance on the machine the prosecutor thought so important. To him, it was like our jobs weren’t important. Our decision was being made for us by the result of a test, not for him and a couple more chimed in to support this view. It opened the door to the defendant driving erratically to being tired, not because he was under the influence of alcohol. We knew the defendant’s entire day from his testimony before beginning his roughly hour drive home.

It was not explicitly stated, but we knew what it was like to drink. We also knew it could be tiring driving that time of night regardless of drinking. The story was plausible and created doubt, but something more important was becoming apparent.

The jurors spoke of the demeanor, not of the defendant but the prosecutor. Frankly, he wasn’t liked. The defense attorney was, though. That, and not liking machines, made the outcome of the vote inevitable.

We marched back into the courtroom in an hour, maybe a little less. My real duty as the foreman was to announce the verdict after the judge reviewed it. Our finding of not guilty was met with an angry outburst from the prosecutor as he stood and walked out of the courtroom before it was over.

The judge then thanked us. Now it was over, pretty much. The defense attorney and his client stood. The attorney thanked us for our time and consideration on behalf of his client, calling him by name. His client nodded his assent. Now we were finished.

So, as far as the cartoon, we found the defendant not guilty in significant part because of the arrogance of the prosecutor. Se La Vie, as we say here.

MOMMY DEAREST

Every year on this date, I write about my mom. It morphs into something to include my dad. There’s always some variation in what is written, but only a little. It’s always long, using stream of consciousness, my natural method of writing. I like it because it starts with a sentence and ends when it ends. The long versions are better, maybe because those tend to be therapeutic. Maybe another time I can do a longer version. My mom’s history is fascinating.

This year I’d like to keep it short. I’m trying to blank my mind so I can focus and not meander. The picture I used in the past was of my parents and me standing outside the University of Akron Law School, taken in 1983.. I have my cap and gown on. My dad is wearing what looks like a suit, but it would be out of character for him to wear one. No doubt he had on a clip-on tie. My mom is wearing a dark skirt and a white blouse.

The one shown here is 1956. Back then, it wasn’t uncommon to have a family photo in black & white painted. And it is a family photo, in a sense. There’s a separate one of the two of us, with this being taken on the same date. I guess she wanted the equivalent of a 1956 selfie. It was right after our birthdays, both in September. My mom had just turned 22, and I was four.

Enough of that. I’m getting off on a tangent. This is where I started talking about my mom and giving readers a history of her and how it was my dad suggesting I go to law school before I wasted too much more of my life. It’s an interesting story to me, and I’m sure I’ll give a history lesson on his life and times too, but I’m digressing again.

January 22 is important because it is the date my mom died. That was 27 years ago (1997 for those not wanting to do the math), over a quarter century. My dad died six years later, and heck, that’s two decades ago. In Abe’s speech, “One score ago, my dad died.” So that’s a significant portion of my life I’ve been orphaned.

So my mom died, pretty young at the time, and I did two things. First, over the next year, on every conceivable holiday, I got a card for my mom and wrote to her about what was going on with the family. The cards were then sealed and remain so today. I found the cards in a large envelope not long ago and was tempted to open and read each. I didn’t. That wasn’t one of my promises. I just went off track again.

I made the promises in writing to her for the funeral, which I penned early that morning. Mom loved dancing and hiking. So I promised I’d dance one more dance for her and take a hike for her. I kept both. My inspiration for what I wrote came from a tee shirt with a couple of words and a Bible passage: “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters.”

So, it seems this is a good place to end. To say she and they remain loved and missed is an understatement.

THE GADSDEN FLAG

The Gadsden flag is a historical symbol of American patriotism. This flag features a coiled rattlesnake set against a yellow background, ready to strike. Beneath the rattlesnake are the words “Don’t Tread on Me.”

The rattlesnake was chosen for America’s readiness to defend itself against any threat. The flag has been described as the “most popular symbol of the American Revolution.” Today, groups and individuals often use it to express a strong commitment to personal liberty and limited government intervention.

The flag has been co-opted by groups and countries that did not have the original intent of it in mind. The flag is named for Christopher Gadsden, a delegate from South Carolina to the

Gadsden flag

Continental Congress who designed the flag in 1775. But it was Ben Franklin, who had designed a rattlesnake symbol in 1754, that best described it.

In December 1775, Franklin published an essay in the Pennsylvania Journal under the pseudonym “American Guesser,” in which he suggested that the rattlesnake was a good symbol of the American spirit and its valuation for vigilance, assertiveness, individualism, unity, and liberty.