The Meaning of the Bell

It is five a.m. in Philly....I couldn’t sleep. A trip to the bath room. Then back to the hotel bed. Then back up to write. Awake forever, I had lain pondering the Old Cracked Bell Down the Street, and how it must be straining to ring again.... Hanging in its shrine... hoards of passers through... just to see, maybe touch and marvel at the symbol of Freedom. I was there maybe an hour waiting on another tour. Musing about the thoughts running through my head and the sounds of So Many Children of Different Lands, ethnic background and origin. Were they all American? I don’t know. But, their shining faces and interest in the symbol made me feel good again. I went into a side room....a movie. It was looped to run continuously, about every thirty minutes. The room would hold two hundred people easily. Their were seven. Was no one interested in the story of the bell? I felt sad again. Where were all the huddled masses yearning to be free? Where was the curiosity of the birth of liberty? Is this all just another side show, feeding off of the past? I thought to myself....... All should be required to watch the movie before viewing the bell.