For the glory born of Goodness never dies, and its flag is not half-masted in the skies.
— Bret Harte
No more timid, embarrassed hymn now! Not in our newly energized Canada.
No mumbling through our anthem at sports events as though to get it over with.
No taking a knee. Not anymore.
Charging armies of pride follow their flags into battle. It precedes them proclaiming country first; even when fastened to the significantly intimidating front bumper of a road salt-stained semi in the freeze of winter.
It proclaims the coming of confident, ready warriors blasting their mission trumpets to wanting masses who wave their own flags in response to those passing onward to battle. A joyous conversational cacophony of red and white.
It matters not that the steeds are trucks, tractors or even. . . steeds – as seen in Alberta, or that the warriors wear bush jackets and caps.
Unlike the tyrants who hide the flag to their rear while staging practiced lies in the form of rehearsed bafflegab, or the cowardly man-child placing himself before flag, standing forefront at some hideout somewhere as though he alone embodies country, people and culture. Unlike the drama queen who, having finally found a role to pretend at, and acting the part of the Truth the Way and the Light, these truckers are based and dedicated and on the right side of history – for that is what they are making. Witness the inspiration on a global basis. Their own Venturi Effect – growing, strengthening. Parenting their children. Embracing thankful strangers. Real Men! . . . dancing the Macarena in parkas and toques.
Flags Forward patriots. Surrender is in the eye of the enemy.