American Hero

Vol 1                                                                Issue 15

I want to show — given the right tools and opportunity — those of us who have been injured can do anything. I'm here to show people I'm just like you.

                          Capt. Ivan Castro – US Special Forces

I saw him from a distance and had pity for him.  A scar creased his forehead.  His right eye was fixed in place, obviously a prosthesis.  His left eye wandered from side to side, not really focusing on the person he was talking with.  A red and white cane was folded at his feet. He was blind. A wounded warrior is not an unexpected sight at a military retirement party.  Still, I did not want to stare but I did. A feeling of sadness gripped me as I considered this man’s misfortune.  In my mind I cursed the war in Iraq and lamented the terrible destruction of this young man’s life.  I then turned away and went on with visiting with friends.

The United States Special Forces is an elite military branch of the Army.  Often they are taxed with the most dangerous missions and are some of the most highly trained and disciplined soldiers in the world. While we sleep safely in our beds, these soldiers are in some far corner of the world staring death in the face protecting our freedoms.  This wounded warrior is a member of the Special Forces.  He lives by a soldier’s creed described in a motto – I will never give up- I will never leave a fallen comrade behind. The man at whom I was staring and for whom I had such great pity is Captain Ivan Castro. He is an  officer in the Special Forces of the United State Army, one of three blind soldiers on active duty.  

As fate would have it, I was soon called over to meet him. Captain Castro stood before me with a Corona in one hand and enthusiastically reached out to shake my hand with his other.  I immediately saw that the tips of some of his fingers were missing.  A warm smile soon spread across his disfigured face. After exchanging some pleasantries he learned that I practiced law.  “I want to be a lawyer”, he exclaimed, “but you do realize I am totally blind.”

Captain Ivan Castro is perhaps the most amazing man whom I have ever met.  Born in Hoboken New Jersey, Ivan Castro grew up in Puerto Rico, where he was a track and field athlete, good enough to be offered an athletic scholarship to the University of Puerto Rico.  Losing interest in college, he joined the US Army and became a Ranger.  A year later he completed Special Forces training donning a Green Beret.  Attending school at night, he earned a college degree from Campbell University and was commissioned a Second Lieutenant and joined the 82^nd Airborne. He served in Desert Storm, the Balkans and trained the Columbian Army. He is 42 years old, is married and has a 16 year old son.

One night in September 2006, while relieving his troops from a rooftop observation post, Ivan Castro was wounded in a mortar attack.  The mortar round killed two of his soldiers and left him with horrendous injuries. Shrapnel tore through his body damaging a shoulder, breaking an arm, fracturing facial bones and collapsing his lungs. The blast also drove the frame of his protective eyewear into his face. The top half of his right index finger was ripped off and the doctors had to amputate the remaining part of the finger. His right eye was blown out and he had a metal fragment in his left eye. He was in a coma for six weeks.  Most doctors did not expect him to live.

"My wife was the one who had to tell me that they hadn't been able to save my eye, and that I wouldn't see again. I felt like I was standing between both towers of the World Trade Center and had them both fall down right on my shoulders," he said quietly. "My whole world had crumbled in."

Ivan Castro was a true American hero before being wounded. He is one the most highly trained soldiers in our armed forces. He was a Special Forces operator. He did the missions that few would have had the courage to perform, some of which are still classified as secret. He was a veteran of armed conflict and was able to face danger with calm. He was a leader of men, someone in charge and in control. All of a sudden, he was blind and totally dependant on others.  He had many bleak days and lonely hours of total darkness. 

"I was very upset with the Lord up above. I said, 'God, what have I done to deserve this? Why are you punishing me? Why are you doing this to my wife? My son?’  I remember crying every night with my mother-in-law. I was devastated."

Captain Castro credits his wife for helping him understand the significance of his injuries. "She told me of what I couldn't see in the hospital wards. She told me that in the ICU were these 21 year olds with different amputations and brain injuries."  She said: “There are so many parents on this floor whose kids may never recognize them again. They would love to have their child walk, talk, eat and recognize them. And Ivan, you can do all of that. Your mind is sharp. It's still you. That's what we have to be thankful for.' "


 “You see I have ‘demons in the darkness,’ or ‘demons in the closet.’ ‘The closet’ is my brain. I don't see anything. I'm totally blind. I have no light perception. And when the demons want to take over, as soon as they try to, I try to keep them out. I think about all the things I'm grateful for: my wife, my son, the Lord above, His mission for me." There are days "when I walk into the wall, both literally and figuratively. I try to take a step back and not get angry and figure out a way to go around things. Once you're blind, you have to set new goals.”

Lying in bed two months after he was injured, he overheard a doctor and a nurse discussing the Marine Corps Marathon. He made that his goal. He would compete in the next Marine Corps Marathon.  Never mind he needed people just to help him stand and had lost 50 pounds of muscle. He begged his physical therapists for extra sessions and worked out on his own in his bed until he was exhausted.  He was still the man who took on missions that few would have the courage to accept.  He still was living a soldier’s creed – “I will never give up!”

A year after he lost his sight, Captain Ivan Castro surprised many as he ran in the Army 10-miler in Washington, D.C, in 85 minutes.  Soon thereafter he pushed his way through the Marine Corps Marathon — exhausting two running companions before latching onto a third — to finish in 4 hours, 14 minutes. Last year, he ran in the Boston as well as four other marathons. He also did a triathlon and climbed Grays Peak in Colorado. Just last month he completed his first 50 miler leaving his toes blackened with bruises.  Undaunted he is training to run a 100 miler.  He also thinks it would be neat to ride a bicycle from California to New York.  He remains on active duty. At Fort Bragg, he oversees the Spanish-language lab and carries out various administrative and logistical tasks making sure that soldiers are ready to deploy.

"It's not just about me anymore," he told me. “I am running for those guys I served with, the guys who did not make it back, the guys still in those hospital beds. I want to be an advocate for them. I don’t want people to forget them. I want to show that given the right tools those of us who have been injured can do anything. I'm here to show people I'm just like you."

We must have talked for over an hour. I was in awe of this man.  I was reminded of the debt as free people we owe the soldiers who protect us. I invited my wife to join the conversation. When my son called in from college on my cell phone, I made him speak to Ivan Castro. I felt better to have been in his presence.  I felt like I was being reminded of life’s most valuable lessons.  Be thankful.  Be loyal.  Don’t complain.  Set goals.  Don’t ever give up.

“You know the best thing about being blind?  I get to see the world the way I want to see it.” remarked Captain Castro. “You see I've traveled around the world. I saw the good, the bad, and the ugly. The good thing about being blind is that everything is beautiful, in my mind. The grass is always green. There's never graffiti on the walls. There's no trash. Everybody looks good--everybody's in shape, everybody's a movie star or rock star. People are just people – no race- there's no brown, white, or black."

When I asked him how he confronts the daily challenges his injuries present, he responded:  "I could have never passed these challenges without my faith in God and the support of my nation...I 've been blessed with a new sense of vision and clarity.  I feel that God has kept me alive for a purpose.  Now, I value each day more and more.  When people meet me, they see blindness and injury.  I'm here to tell you that life is a contact sport full of danger and challenges, but that is no reason to stop living."

Then he asked me to remember something a crusty old colonel once told him:

To be born free is an accident....


To live free is a blessing....


To die free is an obligation.

God Bless you Captain Castro and all the men and women of our Armed Forces!





http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBzUT-Ra4bc    This link will take you to an excerpt of a remarkable speech given by Capt Castro.

Doop Doop’s Prayer

When a man really gives up trying to make something out of himself - a saint, or a converted sinner, or a churchman, a righteous or unrighteous man . . . when in the fullness of tasks, questions, success or ill hap, experiences and perplexities, a man throws himself into the arms of God then he wakes up with Christ in Gethsemane. That faith, that is the metanoia, and, it is thus that he becomes a man and a Christian.   Dietrich Bonhoffer

                                                           

In the early morning hours of April 11, 1957, an eight-pound, seven-ounce infant was born to a couple who had waited thirteen years between children.  The infant was a boy, the last male child of a lineage of factory workers who chose to inhabit Forsyth County, North Carolina in the early nineteenth century.  They gave him a name befitting of such significance.  My parents named me Arvil Lee Collins.

Truthfully, how many of you have ever met anyone named Arvil?  It is an unusual name, and, apart from those who live in Yadkin County, North Carolina, few have ever heard of it.  The reason for my name is quite logical.  You see, my father is Harry Lee Collins Jr., and my mother’s father was Henry Arvil Norman.   With the name Arvil Lee, my parents made all significant male members of my family proud.  Only when my thirteen-year-old sister protested did my parents consider the impact of a boy named Arvil in urban America. My sister insisted I not be called “Arvil” in public.  Normally, this dilemma would be resolved by calling me “Lee”.  However, there was a boy who lived down the street named Lee, who my sister disliked as much as she disliked the name Arvil.  She offered a compromise.  My father had nicknamed her “Buddy”, and she would give up this name for my benefit.

Names are very important.  It was with great care that we named our son.  David Anderson Collins was born on January 6, 1991.   His name accomplished two important tasks.  First, it is a common and biblically impressive name and second, David Anderson Collins is the name of my great-grandfather who died in 1905.  This David lost his father when he was five years old.  He went to work in a cotton mill when he was nine, and worked there every day for the next 39 years.  He died leaving a wife and ten children, the second youngest of whom was my grandfather, Harry Lee Collins Sr., a man I affectionately knew as “Doop Doop”.

My memories of Doop Doop are not very good.  He suffered from emphysema and a love and unflinching commitment to the pleasures of cigarette smoking, a particular deadly combination of sickness and vice. Doop Doop was quite poor.  He and my grandmother never owned a home. For most of his life, he worked as an itinerant baker and struggled to keep food on his family’s table.   For most of my life, he was retired.  He and “Mom”(my grandmother) lived in a four-room house next to my aunt, saved from abject poverty by the love of their children and the social security checks each received monthly.  His sickness sapped his strength.   Years of poverty and hard work had taken away his spirit.  I never saw him drive a car; I never knew him to own one.  I never saw him attend church, read a book, engage in laughter or storytelling.  He had no interests except for his cigarettes, his family, and what was on television. 

My memories of my mother’s father are quite different.  My Granddaddy Arvil was my first hero.  He was a tall and handsome man, who had worked his way from childhood poverty into some prominence in rural Yadkin County.  When I was born, he was the Chairman of the County Commission and had already prospered as barber, farmer, horse trader and businessman.  He ran a barbershop in a country store, which was the center of activity in his part of the county.  People lined up weekly for haircuts and sweet smelling tonic.  There, they talked politics, tobacco prices and learned of the good or bad fortune of their neighbors.

Granddaddy Arvil traded cars every year, and raised puppy dogs.  He was a diviner, a person who could locate underground water with a peach tree limb.  He drank a Dr. Pepper soda every afternoon. No one but Granddaddy Arvil could tell whether a watermelon was ripe to eat, or whether honey was really made from a sourwood tree.  He was also a humble man, who did not think his accomplishments and popularity to be very important.  He sorely regretted that he lacked the educational opportunities I enjoyed.  He instilled in me the importance of being successful in school by paying me a dollar for every “A” and “B” I earned in school.  As a dedicated member of the New Home Methodist Church, he had a foot long array of Sunday school medals indicating his perfect attendance for decades and a well-worn, leather-bound King James Bible. If someone he knew was in the hospital, he always visited with barber tools at hand, attending to their needs without ever taking any compensation.  When he died, people stood for hours at the funeral home, many accounting to my mother various acts of kindness and generosity shown them by my grandfather.  At his funeral, the minister described him as a “Christian gentleman in every sense of the word”.  In my office hangs a horseshoe, which hung in his barbershop, and on my desk is his King James Bible.  How I longed to be like Granddaddy Arvil!

It was a rainy evening in the summer of 1970.  The telephone rang. My father answered, quickly hung up, and with a look of fear ordered us all to the car.  Doop Doop had called in a panic. Something was wrong with Mom and “come quick” was all he had said.  When we arrived, we found Mom lying motionless on the kitchen floor.  Her skin was a bluish gray, and she was not breathing.  My dad began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, making her chest heave with a sickening, gurgling sound.  He told me to go out and make sure the ambulance found the house.  I took a flashlight, and stood in the rain, said a prayer for Mom, and waited for what seemed like an hour for the red flashing lights of the ambulance. 

Mom left in the ambulance.  Doop Doop was too sick to ride along. My parents and my Aunt drove to the hospital leaving me with Doop Doop, my sister, brother-in-law and uncle.  Time stood still while we waited for the telephone to ring.  Doop Doop sat in his chair, stroking his dog in his lap, and softly cried.  With big tears streaming down his cheek, he exclaimed over and over again, “She’s all I got in this world, and I don’t know what I would do if they can’t make her well . . . but not my will but God’s be done.”  How confused was I with this comment.  “What kind of prayer is that?” I thought.   My silent prayer was very different: “I love my grandmother and she is the only one I have left. Momma Arvil died when I was seven and it isn’t right for a boy not to have a grandmother.  I want my will to be done!  I want her to live!  I’ve got faith in you God and if you are anything like the God I learned about in Sunday school you will make her well!”

Gethsemane is a garden outside Jerusalem.*  In Jesus’ day it was one of very few places where one could find solitude outside of a building.  It was built on a hill overlooking the city.   It is where Jesus went to pray the night before His arrest.  It was the place where Jesus confronted the inevitable conflict of His humanity with His divinity. He had emotions like you and me.  He loved, and wept, and was at times angered. He enjoyed the company of friends, and the admiration of people.  He was a skilled man of trade, and was a shrewd teacher of men.  He could make complicated matters of theology understood by reference to an everyday story.  He was brave.  He was compassionate.  He was humble. He was an inspiring leader of men. The foolishness of his trusted friends often frustrated him.  Most of all, He did not wish to die.  He was but thirty-three years of age.  He had no children.  His whole life lay before him.  Why did he have to give it up?  Why did he have to be crucified like a common thief?  So, with three trusted friends, he went to dark Gethsemane to pray.  “If it be thy will, let this cup pass from me. If I must drink of this cup, I shall, it is not what I wish to do, but thy will, not mine be done” is his recorded prayer.

Have you ever knelt in the garden of Gethsemane?  If so, what was your prayer?  Have you ever struggled over the loss of a loved one?  Have the prospects of a debilitating illness or death confronted you?  Have you ever faced unemployment or financial catastrophe?  Have you been torn apart by the disintegration of a family or personal relationship?  Has God ever ripped something precious to you from your tightly clenched fist?  Have you ever been faced with a situation that you could not handle, when events were beyond your control, and your emotions were tearing your heart right out of your chest?  What was your prayer?  Did you seek God’s will, or did you will God to do your bidding?  Did you seek to conform your actions to God’s will or did you try to fashion God’s actions to accomplish your purpose? 

Granddaddy Arvil may be my hero, but I learned far more from Doop Doop’s prayer.   I am not sure when Doop Doop learned this prayer.  Nevertheless, I am sure it did not come to him from some inspiring sermon, or some revelation from a study of scripture.  It is a prayer of one who has struggled through life, and has learned the importance of a power greater than his own.  He might have learned it as a child who lamented over being part of a fatherless family, or as a young teenager forced to work to help put food on the table.  Perhaps, he learned it as a young man, struggling through the Depression with three hungry children and no job or as a father, who watched his only son go off to war, and wondered if he would return. Maybe it was a prayer of an old man, whose life was diminished by sickness and poverty.  I don’t know which time Doop Doop first knelt in the garden of Gethsemane, but I am convinced that he understood the importance of submission to God’s will rather than his own. 

God understands perfectly what we want, need, and desire of life. He knows that we love our families, our health, our security and our personal relationships with others.  He even considers such important.  What He does not consider is that such matters should be our first priority.  “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.”  This is how He has instructed us to live our lives.  Think about how we often pray: “God give me strength that I might achieve great things!”; “God give me wealth that I might live life abundantly!”; “God give me health that I might live long and enjoy life to the fullest!”; “God give me power that I might have the praise of others”; “God make someone love me, or give me a job, or make me happy!”  As we so pray, are we not asking our will, rather than God’s be done?

Seeking first His kingdom and His righteousness is often neither easy nor pleasant  in response to everyday situations.   Nevertheless, as His servants, we are accountable, and we are required to conform our behavior to His standards.   Conformity to God’s requirements is learned behavior, often a most difficult and painful process.  It requires a commitment, and a desire to succeed.   It never happens until we initiate the process by saying a simple prayer – “God change me!” The Greeks describe it as metanioa - a change of mind.  It is the decision to subordinate our desires to His will.   It happens when we permit God to be our Master, and each of us His servant.  Once we sincerely take this step, a metamorphosis - a change of our very nature - will begin. Our outward appearance will not change.  Our bad habits, our negative attitudes, or even our sinful behavior, will not immediately disappear.  The same friends, the same job, the same frustrations, the same problems, the same successes, and the same failures will confront us still.  Nevertheless, a change will take place within us - it is even happening as you read this.  God is at work remodeling you inside out.  At times, the change will be imperceptible while, at other times, the change will be dramatic. Most assuredly, it will not happen at once.  It may not even be completed in this life!  Rest assured, God will change you, sometimes in spite of you, and often in ways you never will understand or even think possible. This change will at times be exhilarating and uplifting.  At other times, it may be painful and confusing.   For growing up Christian may require kneeling in the Garden of Gethsemane.   

 When it happens to you, be careful how you pray.

*

When considering the symbolic meaning of the gethsemene, it is important to understand both the economic and religious importance of the olive and its oil in Biblical times. Much of Israel was, and still is today, olive-producing. The olive was much more than food: Its oil was burned in lamps and served as a preserving agent and a lubricant for skin care. It had great value in daily life.

The process used to extract olive oil was a laborious one. Whole olives were put into a circular stone basin in which a millstone sat (see photo). A donkey or other animal was then harnessed to the millstone and walked in a circle, rolling the stone over the olives and cracking them.

The cracked olives were scooped up into burlap bags, which were then stacked beneath a large stone column--a gethsemane. The enormous weight forced the precious oil to drip from the fruit into a groove and on into a pit at the base of the gethsemane, from which it was collected.

The gethsemane and mill were large and expensive tools, and private citizens could rarely afford to own them. Whoever controlled the equipment, the wealthy elite or government officials, had economic power over the local population. People had to pay steep fees in order to process their olives. The gethsemane and mill were a burden born by many, because olives were an economic mainstay of society.

Deeper Meaning. The olive tree and its oil had even greater cultural importance as religious elements. The verb mashach-- from the same root word for messiah in Hebrew--means "to be annointed with olive oil." Priests, kings and prophets were annointed with olive oil, indicating that they were gifted and called by God. So it was understood that the anticipated Messiah would be specially annointed with olive oil.

The tree also represented the purpose of the promised Messiah--to renew Israel. When an olive tree grows old, it is cut down because there's too much trunk for the leaves to nourish. The following year, a new shoot comes out of the old tree, eventually producing new fruit and lots of healthy branches.

In Isaiah 5, God says to the unbelieving nation of Israel (paraphrased), "You didn't produce any fruit. But I was patient. I dug around you. I fertilized you. I kept you growing. And after a while, I looked. There was still no fruit, so I cut you down." And then He says in chapter 11, "Behold, a new shoot will come out of the stump of Jesse and will become a new tree with new fruit."

The Jews believed that the new shoot, which was going to renew, restore and revitalize the nation of Israel, was the Messiah. The Messiah is the shoot or branch out of Jesse. If Jesus is the branch or stem, then we, as Gentiles, have been grafted in, according to the apostle Paul. That means our roots are the Jewish people. That's our stump. We can't exist and bear fruit without the Jewish roots. Second, it means Jesus is where we get life and energy.

But the key is the olives we produce. Paul says in Romans 11:21 (paraphrased), "If God cut down the natural tree, what do you think He would do to you who have been grafted in if you don't bear fruit?" Jesus came to be the new shoot for what reason? So we would have life to bear fruit.

Greatly Pressed. The night before His Crucifixion, Jesus went to the garden of the olive press--the Garden of Gethsemane. He got down on His knees and began to experience the weight of what was going to be laid on Him. That weight was so incredibly heavy that it squeezed out of Him His own blood. He was heavily pressed. This Jesus, who taught and preached and performed miracles and was raised from the dead, went to the Garden of Gethsemane. Laid on Him was the sin of the entire world.

Ray Vander Laan

Birther

Vol. 1                                                                                      Issue 13

Permit me to hint, whether it would be wise and seasonable to provide a strong check to the admission of Foreigners into the administration of our national Government; and to declare expressly that the Commander in Chief of the American army shall not be given to nor devolve on, any but a natural born Citizen.

John Jay letter to George Washington  July 25, 1787:

Next to Millard Fillmore, Chester Alan Arthur is perhaps the most obscure individual to hold the office of President of the United States. A widower, the Gentleman Boss was known for his fashionable dress reportedly changing pants several times a day.  Lowering tariffs, reforming civil service, banning polygamy, limiting Chinese immigration and converting the Navy to steel warships were the hallmarks of his presidency.  Publisher Alexander K. McClure wrote, "No man ever entered the Presidency so profoundly and widely distrusted, and no one ever retired... more generally respected."  Even Mark Twain known to be quite cynical toward elected officials, conceded, "It would be hard indeed to better President Arthur's administration."

Taking an odd path to the Presidency, Arthur was a candidate in only one campaign.  Republicans were divided over the nomination for their Presidential candidate in1880. New York party boss, Senator Roscoe Conkling reluctantly supported James Garfield of Ohio for the nomination in 1880 only after failing to secure the nomination of Ulysses Grant for a third term.  Many were surprised when James Garfield asked Chester Arthur to join his ticket as Vice President. Arthur, a stalwart New York Republican, had never held elective office.  While he had served as Collector of Customs for the port of New York, he was generally considered a protégé of Senator Conkling who owed his public appointments to the influence of the New York party boss.  Even Arthur seemed surprised telling Conkling: "This is a higher honor than I have ever dreamt of attaining. I shall accept!"

James Garfield was elected President in 1880 owing his slim margin to the hard work of his running mate in the state of New York.   Nevertheless when Arthur sought to assert his influence over the appointments of officials favored by Senator Conkling, he lost favor with Garfield, the animosity being so severe that the new President would not even invite Arthur to the White House. 

Historic irony intervened.  Lunatic Charles Guiteau, an avid supporter of Garfield/Arthur ticket, angered over his failure to receive an appointment to a diplomatic post in Europe, shot James Garfield in a Washington railway station on July 2, 1881. Upon his arrest Guiteau shouted:  "'I am a Stalwart of the Stalwarts! I did it and I want to be arrested! Arthur is President now!'" Garfield never recovered from his wounds and died  September 19, 1881.  Chester Alan Arthur became the 21^st President of the United States.

Chester Alan Arthur was the son of a William Arthur and Malvina Stone.  His mother was a native to Vermont whose grandfather had fought with the Continental Army during the Revolution.  His father, a Scotsman, was a Baptist minister who immigrated from Ireland, first to Canada then after his marriage, to the state of Vermont. Reverend William Arthur was naturalized as an American citizen in August 1843, a fact not known until after President Arthur’s death.   Chester Alan Arthur was born in Franklin County Vermont on October 5, 1829.

Attorney Arthur Hinman was a staunch Democrat and supporter of Winfield Scott Hancock for President in 1880.  He was convinced that Chester Arthur was not born in Vermont, but in Canada.  He waged a campaign and authored a booklet entitled, How a British Subject Became President.  He was the original “birther”.  Fortunately, modern historians have discounted his suspicions and believe that Arthur was in fact born in Vermont and was a citizen of the United States.  The question still remains: “Was Chester Arthur a “natural born” citizen?”

No person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty-five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States (Article 2 Section 1 U.S. Constitution)

No Person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State for which he shall be chosen. (U.S. Constitution, Article I, section 3, clause 3)

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside… (14^th Amendment U.S. Constitution)

At common law there are two recognized ways to be considered a citizen of a country. The first is to be born to parents who are citizens of the country.  The Latin term “jus sanguinis” denotes the right of citizenship derived by the blood of one’s parents.   Another way to acquire citizenship is by birth within the boundaries of a country.  The Latin term “jus solis” denotes citizenship derived from the place of one’s birth. 

Understanding this principle of common law, the Framers of the Constitution coined a different term when setting forth the requirements of the President of the United States.  While to be eligible to serve as a Senator or Congressman, a person need only be a citizen, to be eligible to serve as President, a person must be a “natural born citizen”.  It is commonly believed that the Framers of the Constitution intended for the person occupying the Presidency and serving as Commander in Chief to be free of all foreign influence. It was essential that the sole and absolute allegiance, loyalty, and attachment of a person to whom so much power and authority was granted be to the United States of America alone and not some other country.

Emmerich de Vattel in his, The Law of Nations (1758)*, explains that a   “natural born Citizen” is a child born in the country of two citizen parents who have already entered into and become members of the society.   Thus to be “natural born” a person must derive his citizenship from jus sanguinis and jus solis.  Using this definition, to be eligible for the presidency, an individual must be born within the jurisdiction of the United States to parents who at the time of his birth are both citizens of the United States.

At the time of the birth of Chester Alan Arthur, his father was a citizen of Great Britain and President Arthur derived his citizenship in Great Britain jus sanguinis.  Because Chester Alan Arthur was born within the jurisdiction of the United States, he derived his citizenship in the United States jus solis.  Therefore he was a dual citizen of the United States and Great Britain at birth.  While he may have lost this status by the naturalization of his father in 1843, this ex post facto event does not change his status as a dual citizen at birth.

In September 1787 the Constitution was adopted by the Constitutional Convention.  At that time does anyone think the Founders would have looked with good favor upon the election to the Presidency of a person who was a dual citizen of the United States and Great Britain?  Was it this fear of foreign influence invading the Office of Commander in Chief that prompted future Supreme Court Chief Justice, John Jay to coin the term natural born citizen in his letter to George Washington in July 1787? ** Or would the admonition of our Lord have reminded them where true loyalty lies. “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other” (Mt. 6:24)

Why should historians be surprised that Chester Alan Arthur kept the fact of his father’s naturalization a secret?   So too, why should anyone be surprised that no court wants to opine as to the presidential eligibility of Barak Hussein Obama? Taken in the proper historical context, an honest analysis of the Constitution would be self evident.***

Atticus

Notes:

http://puzo1.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-natural-born-citizen-clause-is.html

http://puzo1.blogspot.com/2010/03/obama-maybe-citizen-of-united-states.html

* Section 212 The citizens are the members of the civil society; bound to this society by certain duties, and subject to its authority, they equally participate in its advantages.  The natives, or natural-born citizens, are those born in the country, of parents who are citizens.  As the society cannot exist and perpetuate itself otherwise than by the children of its citizens, those children naturally follow the condition of their fathers, and succeed to all their rights.  The society is supposed to desire this, in consequence of what it owes to its own preservation; and is presumed, as matter of course, that each citizen, on entering into society, reserves to his children the right of becoming members of it. The country of the fathers is therefore that of the children; and these become true citizens merely by their tacit consent.  We shall soon see whether, on their coming to the years of discretion, they may renounce their right, and what they owe the society in which they were born.  I say, that, in order to be of the country, it is necessary that a person be born of a father who is citizen, for, if he is born there of a foreigner, it will be only the place of his birth, and not his country. http://www.lonang.com/exlibris/vattel/vatt-119.htm

  **  Benjamin Franklin’s (a signer of our Constitution) letter to Charles W.F. Dumas, December 1775
“I am much obliged by the kind present you have made us of your edition of Vattel. It came to us in good season, when the circumstances of a rising state make it necessary frequently to consult the Law of Nations. Accordingly, that copy which I kept (after depositing one in our own public library here, and send the other to the College of Massachusetts Bay, as you directed) has been continually in the hands of the members of our congress, now sitting, who are much pleased with your notes and preface, and have entertained a high and just esteem for their author”?

***  This link provides a contrary view and is well documented by opinions provided after the ratification of the Consitution.  The accepted definition for "natural born citizen" may have changed over the last 200 years.  Political necessity and public acceptance often is reflected in court opinions. Still this does not change the historical context of the phrase  Atticus

If you’ve read the quotations preceding, and taken the links to the larger sources, you will know that throughout our nation’s history there has been a widespread belief that (except for Indians, Ambassadors and invading armies) that everyone born in the United States is a natural born citizen. In all of my extensive study in preparation for this page, I found the most important items from a legal perspective are the New York decision in Lynch v. Clarke which is cited over and over again by later courts including the US Supreme Court, and the United States Supreme Court decision in United States v. Wong Kim Ark, which again is cited over and over by later courts. These two cases make up the legal precedent by which any court would conclude that Barack Obama is eligible to be President of the United States under Article 2 of the Constitution.

I will not mislead you by saying that there are no quotations (such as de Vattel above) that argue that citizen parents are required before someone is a  citizen (de Vattel) or a “natural born citizen”. Nevertheless, these are few and far between and they are never in legislation and they are never in court decisions (except in dissenting opinions — and in Dred Scott, but that’s another story).

What I hope the reader learns from this exercise is that anyone who claims that it is self-evident, and widely known and generally accepted, that a natural born citizen must have citizen parents, is either ignorant of the body of evidence to the contrary, or deliberately perpetrating fraud.        http://www.obamaconspiracy.org/2009/01/the-great-mother-of-all-natural-born-citizen-quotation-pages/

THE SWORD OF THE LORD AND GIDEON

Vol. 1                                                                 Issue 12 


This brilliant victory marked the turning point of the American Revolution.             Theodore Roosevelt

"My countrymen, you are about to set out on an expedition which is full of hardships and dangers, but one in which the Almighty will attend you The Mother Country has her hands upon you, these American Colonies, and takes that for which our fathers planted their homes in the wilderness - OUR LIBERTY... Will you tarry now until the other enemy carries fire and sword to your very doors? No, it shall not be. Go forth then in the strength of your manhood to the aid of your brethren, the defense of your liberty and the protection of your homes. And may the God of Justice be with you and give you victory…"O, God of Battle, arise in Thy might. Avenge the slaughter of Thy people. Confound those who plot for our destruction. Crown this mighty effort with victory, and smite those who exalt themselves against liberty and justice and truth. "Help us as good soldiers to wield the SWORD OF THE LORD AND GIDEON." "Amen"

With this prayer by Presbyterian Evangelist Samuel Doak, a ghost army of over the mountain men began a 330 mile march that would end at King’s Mountain and mark the beginning of the end of the American Revolution.   Common and hardy men from wilderness encampments across the eastern continental divide answered the call of their neighbors as they had countless time before.  A threat to their liberty, their way of life, their personal freedom, be it from Cherokee warriors or British Regiments had to be confronted. It was in the genetic makeup of these American settlers.  “If not now, when?” they asked. “If not us, then who?”   Rallying at Sycamore Shoals in what is now eastern Tennessee, these men and their families began a very personal fight for liberty.  

Their foe was British Major Patrick Ferguson, a man not so unlike those sworn his mortal enemy.  Ferguson, a proud a son of Scotland had distinguished himself as a brave and capable commander. His right arm disabled by wounds received in battle, Ferguson had taught himself to shoot, ride and fence with his left hand. He was known to lead his troops in battle riding a white stallion, wearing a checkered over shirt and issuing commands with a silver whistle while brandishing a Spanish sword. Lord Cornwallis, having defeated Benjamin Lincoln at Charlestown and Horatio Gates at Camden found there remained no organized army of Colonials confronting the British in the South.  The British southern strategy aimed to divide and conquer the rebels appeared to be a strategic success.  Placed in command of a Tory Militia regiment, Ferguson was General Cornwallis’s buffer against any threats to the west.  He was one of the King’s best young soldiers.  Smart and articulate his job was to persuade colonists to remain loyal to the King and to take up arms against their rebellious neighbors.

At that moment in history, the American Revolution was placed into the hands of some of the most unlikely patriots.  The Carolina backcountry was an unforgiving land. Over the western mountains were sparse settlements occupied by Americans who had carved from the wilderness a home. Fiercely independent, they lived in these areas in defiance to British law. They “tamed the rugged wilderness, they bid defiance to outside foes, and they successfully solved the difficult problem of self-government.” Forming the Watauga Association in 1772, they may have been the "first men of American birth to establish a free and independent community on the continent.”   These men were also experienced Indian fighters who for decades had banded together to protect their homes and preserve their liberty. They considered the words of Major Ferguson carefully and took seriously his threat.  Had Ferguson known more of the mountain ways, he would never have insulted them as “mongrels, dregs of mankind and barbarians”. Foolhardy and arrogant, he  believed that “a volley and a dash of cold steel was just the dose to cause the rebels to break and once on the run such troops would never rally,”  He  underestimated their response to his public challenge to their liberty:

If they do not desist from their opposition to British arms, I will march my army over the mountains, hang their leaders and lay waste their country with fire and sword. 

On a cold October morning in 1780, nine hundred backcountry patriots surrounded a hilltop known as King’s Mountain near the North Carolina border with South Carolina. Having ridden all night in a pouring rain, they were of bad humor and were looking for a fight. The previous day Major Ferguson wrote to Lord Cornwallis “I have arrived at King’s Mountain and have taken a post where I do not think I can be forced by a stronger enemy than that against us” He commanded a position he considered so strong “a place God Almighty can not drive us from."  A roll of British drums disturbed the morning calm, as Ferguson’s men deployed for battle along the ridge of the mountain.  Before them, the six foot six inch William Campbell astride his tired mount, raised his sword  As he readied his men for battle, he pointed to the mountain with his sword and shouted to his men “Shout like hell and fight like devil”.  In an hours time the battle was over with the entire British regiment either dead or captured.

After the victory, the backcountry army disbursed and returned home. The men who fought that day disappeared to history. It was the turning point in our war for Independence.  History notes that within the following year, Daniel Morgan was victorious at Cowpens, Nathaniel Greene fought a bloody stalemate at Guilford Courthouse and the siege at Yorktown ended the war.  Liberty was a concept that these backcountry patriots understood and for which they pledged their lives and honor to defend.  “The American victory at King’s Mountain,” wrote Sir Henry Clinton in his memoirs “was the first link in a chain of misfortunes that followed each other in regular succession until they ended in the total loss of America”. 

During his convalescence from wound received earlier in the war, Patrick Ferguson reflected upon his own the mortality.  He was never driven from King’s Mountain.  He is buried within feet of where he died.  His grave covered with stones.

“The length of our lives is not at our command however much the manner of them may be.  If our creator enables us to act the part of honor and conduct ourselves with spirit, probity, and humanity the change to another world whether now or fifty years hence will not be for the worse.”     Patrick Ferguson