My Dad loooooved music. When we were was a small children, we'd listen to him on KUOP. It was just a part of our lives. He would put on a record, and we'd sing and dance together in the living room. This turned into full blown performances for us. Dad would proudly watch as we belted out the words to The Gap Band - Sweet Caroline or Junior - Mama Used to Say. We hit fever pitch when Chucky Booker came out with Turned Away from Love, we listened to this song 40,000 times, it was amongst his favorites. 

When we grew up, we came to understand who our Dad really was. We came home to Stockton to visit once and someone hollered "Hey!!! it's the Freaky Deacons Daughters", we looked, and burst out laughing. Yes,  Yes, we are the Freaky Deacons Daughters, a moniker we will proudly carry with us, for the rest of our lives.....

 “I am the flag of the United States of America. My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world’s tallest buildings. I stand watch in America’s halls of justice. I stand guard majestically over great institutions of learning.

I stand guard with the greatest military power in the world. Look up and see me. I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. I stand for freedom. I am confident; I am arrogant; I am proud. When I am flown with my fellow banners, my head is a little higher, my colors a little truer. I bow to no one. I am recognized all over the world.

I am worshipped. I am loved and I am feared. I have fought in every battle of every war for more than 200 years: Gettysburg, Shilo, Appomattox, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches of Normandy, Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, in the Persian Gulf and a score of places long forgotten, by all but those who were there with me. I was there.

I led my Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines. I followed them and watched over them. They loved me. I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima. I was dirty, battle-worn and tired, but my Marines and Sailors cheered me. And I was proud. I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries that I have helped set free. It does not hurt, for I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my own country. and when it is by those I have served in battle with, it hurts. But I shall overcome, for I am strong. I have slipped the bonds of earth and from my vantagepoint on the moon, I stand watch over the uncharted new frontiers of space.

I have been silent witness to all of America’s finest hours. But my finest hour comes when I am torn in strips to be used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the field of battle - when I fly at half mast to honor my Soldiers, my Airman, my Sailors, my Marines, and - when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving mother, at the graveside of her fallen son or daughter.

I am proud. My name is “Old Glory.” Long may I wave, dear God, long may I wave.”