Sometimes Patriots Can Be A Nasty Bunch

His name is Marko Lokar. His stance on the Middle East war became the focal point of perceived patriotism this month.

Lokar is a 21-year-old sophomore at Seton Hall. Rather, he was at Seton Hall. Now, he's back home, in Italy, with his wife, having quit the Pirates' basketball team under death threats, jeers, boos and other gestures of disgust and loathing.

Why?

Because of a decision on a topic which, at any other time, could appear frivolous or even petty.
He refused to wear the American flag on his uniform.

I call this petty because before this war to free Kuwait broke out, there was no call to wear the red, white and blue. Indeed, when this war is through, I'm quite sure the ribbons and flags will be put away again, never to be seen until another war - or hostage situation - takes place.

But the flag - as with yellow ribbons and other shows of support for the U.S. troops in Saudi Arabia - is a symbol of patriotism. Virtually every sports team in America, it seems, has a U.S. flag sewn on its uniform.

His decision did not come from a viewpoint of patriotism, or the supposed lack thereof, though. Lokar's statement stood with his personal, religious convictions as a Christian.

As a Christian, he said, he cannot support war in any form. And supporting the troops, he added, is the same as approving of war - the troops are doing the fighting.

Now, i can understand this viewpoint. If you don't support war in general, how can you support the troops? There's a fine line between the two, and in Lokar's case, he knows where that line is.

But this isn't a column about one man's religious convictions versus supporting troops.

This is about freedom - the freedom to express yourself, politically or religiously, verbally or silent.
We, the American people, should be ashamed of ourselves for this violation of the most basic, unalienable right - the right to express our opinions.

Or not to.

It was Lokar's decision not to wear a flag on his uniform. So what? A flag is a symbol, an icon of our country, and the freedom it offers to old and young, black and white, unbiased and bigoted.

What gives any of us the right to impose on anyone else what - if any - symbol we should wear?

By not wearing an American flag, does the pride I have in my country wane?

By not wearing a yellow ribbon, am I any less patriotic than I was before Desert Storm began?

I don't think so.

This radical wave of "patriotism" has become an obsession, in many cases an insult to what the word is supposed to mean.

A patriot is someone who loves his or her country and passionately guards its welfare.

A patriot is not required to wear that support of country on his sleeve, chest, jacket or hat. Or force it on others.

This is exactly what the lunch-mob mentality crowds at Seton Hall basketball games were vigorously implying, however.

Through their freedom of speech, they were telling Lokar - and the rest of the nation - that there were no choices on patriotic showings anymore. That it is now mandatory.

If everyone else in a group is showing so-called support by wearing a certain patch, then the decision should be unanimous.

This is wrong.

Lokar's stance was also one of freedom. It, too, was a form of freedom of speech. It is not against the law in this country.

At least, it's not supposed to be.

This article originally appeared in the Ogemaw County Herald.

League Will Regret Not Bringing In Glenn

With blindfold on and cigarette in mouth, the soon-to-be executed soul was placed on exhibition one final time.

"All I wanted," John Glenn said, "was to be one of the gang. To have some fun. Shucks, all I wanted was a little ... company.

But the two executioners, Mr. Gladwin and Mr. Standish-Sterling, laughed and pulled the trigger, walking away from a bleeding John Glenn, of Bay City.

John Glenn promised hope and growth for the North East Michigan Conference, and received a shallow, "Thanks, but no thanks," instead.

Not everyone in the NEMC felt this way. Ogemaw Heights was all in favor of bringing in some fresh blood, even if it meant the Falcons would no longer be the biggest kid on the block.

OHHS Athletic Director Jamie Richards pointed out to the West Branch-Rose City Board of Education the many benefits adding the Bay City school would offer.

Options such as better scheduling, additional financial backing for the league and the "Bay City media connection" would prove beneficial to the league.

Ogemaw was not alone in looking at John Glenn favorably. Tawas, Oscoda and Pinconning also voted to bring Glenn in to the league.

But in this ballroom, it takes five to tango. And neither Gladwin nor Standish-Dterling were willing to become a dance partner.

Gladwin made its stance known immediately: We don't play John Glenn now, and we aren't about to, either.

But while Gladwin's response was predictable - the G's have never been a big fan of facing off against the Bobcats - Standish-Sterling's was quite the reverse.

The NENC's lone "hyphenated" school used poor logic in explaining how Glenn's admission would bring the league to its knees.

According to Standish-Sterling's athletic director, the school's coaches are afraid of playing the larger John Glenn because their sports programs would suffer.

Uh-huh. This from a school which traveled downstate to take on the defending Class B football champions, Farmington Hills Harrison, last year - a move based in the theory that you improve by taking on bigger, new challenges.

One might also assume this quest for improvement would be a daily ritual, that Standish-Sterling didn't get thrashed by Harrison and say, "Well, that's the best we can do, time to pack up the bags and head to Bermuda for a while."

One game does not continual improvement make.

And, gee, don't the Panthers already play Glenn in a couple of sports? Yes.

Now, if you already face the Bobcats,how can you justify that putting them in your league would make things worse? Does playing a team twice in a season instead of once a season shoot down your entire program? Methinks not.

But even these excuses, as wishy-washy and pathetic as they are, do not compare to the King Solomon decision rendered by the school. And this is what's really got my stomach turning.

There's a line Danny Glover's character had in Lethal Weapon which applies here: "If she's gonna die, she'll die my way - not your."

At least Gladwin's decision, though officially stated by the Board of Education, came from the athletic department's head honcho. As did the four "yes" votes. The athletic directors at these schools had the chutzpah, whether right or wrong, to make what could have been a difficult decision.

But Standish-Sterling played by a different set of rules.

The Panthers' athletic director, Jim Markle, wanted his school to accept Glenn. But the coaches, looking at the Bobcats as a threat to their very being, wanted no part of it.

So what does Markle do? Does he side with the coaches? Or does he make a stand and say, "Bigger competition makes us a better school, and the NEMC a better league."?

He does neither. Instead, he forms a three-membert panel to weigh the options and make its recommendation to the board.

Now, committees have their time and place, And, on occasion, they even live up to their promise.

This was not one of those times.

So the NEMC remains a six-team league, while those around it are merging and growing.

John Glenn was executed. But it is the NEMC that will suffer for it.

This article originally appeared in the Ogemaw County Herald.

Beard Sparks Friends To "Name That Gaba"

It's been something I've been meaning to do since 1986 - the last time I attempted such a venture.

So one morning, about a month ago, I stared at my face in the mirror, a bloodshot gaze that came from not enough sleep after catching an episode of The Equalizer on late-night television.

"Your problem," I told myself, "is that you're lazy."

And so, right then and there, I decided to take advantage of my lethargic approach toward shaving.

And let the beard grow out.

The last time I had a beard was over four years ago, and if there's anything that can be said about that bout without the razor, it's that the comments overheard were often humorous.

There was the wedding I played DJ at, for example. One of the bridesmaids commented to another that, at least if the pastor hadn't shown up, we would have had a replacement rabbi at the reception. Me being the rabbi, I guess. Obviously, this was a lady who watched Fiddler on the Roof about 30,000 times too often for her own good.

This, of course, was nothing compared to the "standard" references to bearded men of note throughout history - Abraham Lincoln, Moses and the rock band ZZ Top. One of my friends went so far as to call em "Honest Gabe," partially because of Mr. Lincoln, to a degree because of my last name.

I had grown a beard for the first time while in college in 1984, starting three weeks before the Tigers-Padres World Series matchup. So I had already heard a lot of the same types of commentary about my facial feature.

A former college roommate dubbed me The Neanderthal Man, because I resembled one of the lead characters in the movie, The Clan of the Cave Bear. Another ex-roomie started a betting pool on how long my beard would be by the end of the semester.

What you have to understand about these references is that, by the time the jokes and comments were in full swing. I had a pretty healthy beard. The rabbinical reference was probably accurate in terms of internal appearance, except I didn't grow the sideburn curls like the ultra-religious Orthodox Jews did. By comparison's sake, what I have right now is but a mere babe in the woods, a puppy in need of growing up.

Still, this time around, the silly statements are getting any sillier. The beard was entering its second week at the time Operation Desert Storm took effect, an done of my friends thought my infantile-stage growth made me look like Saddam Hussein.

Right. I didn't even know Saddam had a beard. Maybe she meant Fidel Castro, or Yassir Arafat. You know, evil, domineering leaders with beards.

By the next week, another acquaintance thought I looked like a priest.

No, I thought, there's a contradiction in terms. By the time Valentine's Day rolls along, I'll probably be the second coming of Cupid (a bearded one, at that). Or Ringo Starr.

How long will it stay? Who knows? Probably at least until it warms up a bit more.

Or until I'm just too lazy to keep being lazy in the morning.

This article originally appeared in the Ogemaw County Herald.