The Brave May Fall But Never Yield

“Nunquam cadunt, sed forti”

I held my rapturous applause in check as my country man first cross the line, preferring to tip my nonexistent hat. His victory, justly earned, is not a feather in my cap, save that he honors the legacy of ” win or lose, you do your best.”

I can be no more patriotic if he wins, nor any less strident of a culture that revels in being clever by half.

The Brave May FallWe hail those who inspire us, congratulate those who win, affirm those who also ran, and wonder in the dark and stormy nights if our star much maligned, has the power to shine.

If a Bolt of lightning, man or beast, or a scrawny crow turn hawk, takes on a fox to retrieve her cheese, I care not how the feathers ruffled or fly, come to rest, save the fox sues for peace, or a man who may have forgotten how to be, finds himself and align himself with his star.

That to me is how I honor the faint whisper that echoed,” You are a wonder of the universe.”

It’s incidental the colors we choose or are assigned, perhaps. But I’ll tip my hat and pledge even more if our culture celebrates the colors of excellence, if not the safe keeping of the feathers of a crow that decided to be a hawk.

Peter Peterkin, Readers Bureau, Fellow

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