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We observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of freedom, symbolizing an end, as well as a beginning; signifying renewal, as well as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three quarters ago.
In your hands, my fellow citizens, more than in mine, will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since this country was founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to service surround the globe.
Now the trumpet summons us again, not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need; not as a call to battle, though embattled we are; but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, “rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation”, a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.
Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort?
In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility. I welcome it. I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it. And the glow from that fire can truly light the world.
And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.
My fellow citizens of the world, ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.
Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us here the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth, God’s work must truly be our own.
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When snow or ice was on the ground, it was impossible for him to walk, even with help.
At such times my sisters or I would pull him through the streets of Brooklyn, NY, on a
child's sleigh to the subway entrance. Once there, he would cling to the handrail
until he reached the lower steps that the warmer tunnel air kept ice-free. In
Manhattan the subway station was the basement of his office building, and he would not
have to go outside again until we met him in Brooklyn' on his way home.
When I think of it now, I marvel at how much courage it must have taken for a grown
man to subject himself to such indignity and stress. And at how he did it -- without
bitterness or complaint .
He never talked about himself as an object of pity, nor did he show any envy of the
more fortunate or able. What he looked for in others was a "good heart", and if he
found one, the owner was good enough for him.
Now that I am older, I believe that is a proper standard by which to judge people,
even though I still don' t know precisely what a "good heart" is. But I know the times
I don't have one myself.
Unable to engage in many activities, my father still tried to participate in some way.
When a local sandlot baseball team found itself |without a manager, he kept it going.
He was a knowledgeable baseball fan and often took me to Ebbets Field to see the
Brooklyn Dodgers play. He liked to go to dances and parties, where he could have a
good time just sitting and watching.
On one memorable occasion a fight broke out at a beach party, with everyone punching
and shoving. He wasn't content to sit and watch, but he couldn't stand unaided on the
soft sand. In frustration he began to shout, "I' ll fight anyone who will tit down
with me!"
Nobody did. But the next day people kidded him by saying it was the first time any
fighter was urged to take a dive even before the bout began.
I now know he participated in some things vicariously through me, his only son. When I
played ball (poorly), he "played" too. When I joined the Navy he "joined" too. And
when I came home on leave, he saw to it that " I visited his office. Introducing me,
he was really saying, "This is my son, but it is also me, and I could have done this,
too, if things had been different." Those words were never said aloud.
He has been gone many years now, but I think of him often. I wonder if he sensed my
reluctance to be seen with him during our walks. If he did, I am sorry I never told
him how sorry I was, how unworthy I was, how I regretted it. I think of him when I
complain about trifles, when I am envious of another's good fortune, when I don't have
a "good heart".
At such times I put my hand on his arm to regain my balance, and say, "You set the
pace, I will try to adjust to you."
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