I Pledge Allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
That was America's first pledge. Schoolchildren recited words from a magazine in the autumn of 1892, their hands outstretched in a stiff-armed salute toward flags the magazine had marketed to their schools.
It's the same pledge, plus or minus nine words, that the St. Louis Park City Council decided last month it would no longer recite. And we — primarily we who don't live in St. Louis Park — have been arguing about it for the past week.
One nation, divided by its own symbols of national unity. Flag lapel pins. Athletes who kneel during the national anthem. Betsy Ross' flag on the heels of a sneaker. The Pledge of Allegiance.
St. Louis Park City Council members thought skipping the pledge would be a hospitable gesture; a way to ensure that everyone who came to one of their meetings felt welcome.
But the council's rejection of the pledge — one of the few things that still bring Americans together and speak with one voice — baffled and hurt a lot of people.
Fury rained down on the western suburb: Unpatriotic. Traitors. America, love it or leave it, St. Louis Park. This is all Ilhan Omar's fault, probably. The council plans to revisit the issue at its meeting Monday.
Americans have been pledging allegiance to the flag for nearly 127 years. Few other nations talk to their flags on a daily basis, and the history of the pledge is as weird and wonderful as America itself.