Drawing A Line

I never liked it that much anyway.  My son was the one who came home with the idea in his head. Before I knew it, I was signing a waiver at the information session and writing a check.  After all, it was an extra curricular activity, and I was impressed with his verve.

Months later after attending a few meetings, it was my wife who sounded the alarm.  She had already supported a petition, but the recent public announcement was just too much.  How could I keep my son in Cub Scouts?  How could I look my community and my patients in the face?  What type of a role model was I becoming for my children?

My son is understandably upset, but we're working on him.  At eight years old, he doesn't yet know how often he will be asked to compromise his morals for ease, personal gain, or a myriad of other reasons.

It is our job to teach him.  It is our job to stand up and take a stance when ugliness and bigotry encroach on our lives.

We are just a few small people drawing a line in the sand, facing a Goliath.

And boy, does it feel good.