David Rice

My grandfather, David Hume Rice, was born in 1898 and probably never thought he’d move from Barrington, Illinois to Edcouch in South Texas in 1926. He attended the University of Illinois and studied English. He was a philosopher and poet and came from a wealthy family.

In the 1950’s he adopted my father, a little Mexican boy who crossed the border without documents.  My father was left at Grandfather David’s farm by the foreman. Grandfather decided to raise him as his son.

My grandfather’s parents and siblings were not happy. They cut him off financially and he lost his diary farm, livestock, and equipment. He moved in with us and he practically raised me. In his much later years, I took care of him: fed him, bathed him, and lit his pipe.

I spent thousands of hours with my grandfather. From watching baseball and football games on TV to reading stories together.  People think blood makes a family. Nope, it’s love.

America’s bond is love. Hate always fails. We are not going to let anything, or anyone tear us apart.  A prefect union sounds impossible, but this is America, and we don’t believe in impossible.

My Mexican grandfather, Papa Lalo, gave me a broom and to told me to practice walking around the yard. I was a Cub Scout and was going to carry the American Flag in the town parade. My grandmother, Mama Locha, said it was like carrying the cross at church. “You can’t drop it.” I was an altar boy at church and carried the cross when church started. So, I knew what I was doing, but we were walking behind the military veterans, so no messing up.

I had the chance to carry the flag a few times. When I become a Scout I was promoted to assistant senor patrol leader and had to pick a Cub Scout to carry the flag. I formed a committee, and we picked three scouts to carry the flag. They shared the responsibility. The flag gets heavy after a few blocks.

My father and brother served in the National Guard. My brother died in a car accident in 1989 and had a military funeral. The honor guard gave my mother and father a folded flag. It’s on the fire mantel under a picture of my brother in his uniform.  Every so often I clean it and make sure it hasn’t moved, but it’s not going anywhere. It’s the heaviest thing in the house.

The American flag carries hope, dreams, struggles and love. It has unconditional love for us. It will let us burn it, tear it, and abuse it. Sure, it just a symbol and we should carry the flag in our hearts, but I love Old Glory. I display it proudly 18 times a year and have never dropped it.

In 1979, I was voted best Scout Spirit at Camp Perry in the Rio Grande valley. When you win an award, people notice. Months later I was asked to be the judge at the annual Cub Scout Pinewood derby race.

The director, Ernest Mehlhorn, of the Scout Council, looked like my white grandfather and had the same mannerisms. He was going to attend the derby and scouts from the area were going to help.

I was told to wear my full uniform: my merit badge sash and my Order of The Arrow-Brotherhood sash. I wasn’t an Eagle, but I already had my Life badge. I thought it was a little much, but I they said I had to look very official.

The derby was held at the McAllen National Guard Amory. Bigger than a basketball gym and it was packed. Cub Scouts and parents from all the nearby towns.

Mehlhorn announced out loud as I stood next to him. He thanked the National Guard, the volunteer Scouts, the parents, the Den leaders, and the cub scouts.

“Today’s judge is David Rice. He was a Cub Scout, a Webelo, and he is a Life Scout. He also Order of the Arrow Brotherhood and the assistant senior patrol leader of Troop 154. His is the final word. Here’s to the spirit of competition and good sportsmanship. Let the derby begin!” The place went wild with cheers. Mehlhorn patted my shoulder, “Hold fast.”

There were two brackets, and the races were a blast. I made sure to shake the hands of every competitor, and the calls were easy until the last race. The two fastest pinewood derby cars at the top of the track. The crowd seem bigger than when we started. More scouts and parents everywhere.

I put my hand up with the scout sign and the place got so quiet you could hear the imaginary engines in the pinewood.  I shook the hands of the cub scouts and singled a scout to the release the cars.

The cars were a blur. Side by side to the finish. They were tied and there were no devices to confirm my decision. I stood up and knew I had to be quick. I pointed to a car and said, “The winner!” The two Cub Scouts cheered for each other and shook hands. All the other scouts were cheering too and then it got messed up by the parents.

The parents started shouting about who won and were demanding a do over. They were pointing and shouting at each other. Some even used profanity. I looked around at the other scouts and we didn’t know what was going on or what to do.

Every so often, at Scout camp, if things got heated between rival troops, the Scout leader would raise a hand with the scout sign and belt out loud, “Scout Law,” and it worked every time.

Director Mehlhorn raised his hand in the Scout sign and roared, “Scout Law.”

Every Scout snapped to attention and at the top of our lungs we roared back: “A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.”

The hall got quiet and Mehlhorn said a calm manner, “Scouts, the golden rule.”  We replied without hesitation. “Do unto others as you would have them to unto you.”

“Scouts, thank you for leading the way. Parents,” Mehlhorn said with a nod.

“Your children are watching.”

Americans love hats. Everyone I know has at least three or four.  We have: work hats, parents hats, little league hats, Boys and Girls club hats, Scout hats, volunteer fire fighters hats, church choir hats, meals on wheels hats, PTA hats, and the list goes on.

We wear lots of hats because we get involved in our communities. Over 60 million Americans help organizations, but let’s not forget helping friends move and much more that’s never counted, that we never even count ourselves. Our hats are right up there with hero capes.

On the world stage, America wears heavy hats. When you’re the biggest kid on the block, you don’t bully. You’re meant to help others.

Yes, it can get a little tiring, but America was made strong for a reason. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.

Adjust your hat and get to work.

We never vote alone. My tía Lucia in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas did a lot of work to get the vote out before she died. She would call on her friends to remind them to vote.  I’ve been an election clerk in Travis County since 2008. It’s a lot of fun and a lot of work. You take classes and take an oath to protect the rights of citizens to be counted at the ballot box.

But why is the voting booth so crowded? Because it took millions of people to fight for your right to vote. Wars, marches, protests, and a continuing commitment from people to make America a good and honest nation. Free and fair elections to ensure your voice is heard and counted. You’re in good company when you vote.

After I cast my ballot, I say thank you to the election workers and to the people who fought for my right to vote.  My vote shows my love for my country and my gratitude to those before me. I do my best for American democracy and tía Lucía.