Local Dispatch: A Thanksgiving Prayer that keeps on giving

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

By Ruth K. Fischer

My father, Isadore Krug, was a native of Vienna. He brought his family to America in 1925, settled in Chicago and opened a tire business. He loved America with all of his heart.

In August 1943, my older brother, Richard M. Krug, was killed in action in World War II. A lieutenant in the Army Air Force, he was shot down during a raid over the Ploesti oil fields in Romania. He was posthumously awarded the Distinguished Service Cross and Purple Heart for the mission that cost him his life.

In the period following my brother's death, my father wrote a Thanksgiving prayer. He would read the prayer aloud as our extended family gathered for the Thanksgiving meal.

At our urging, he sent a copy of the prayer to local newspapers. In the 1940s, the Chicago Sun-Times published it. And in 1969, when he was living with my family in Arkansas, the prayer was published on the front page of the Arkansas Democrat. At that time, he wrote some words of introduction:

"There is a particular love in each of us and that crisis gave me the power to write it. You cannot write something like this unless you have that power. ...

"The prayer is my way of thanking America. I had a dream and I found it in the United States. ...

"Most of the people don't find it, but it is the realization of my dream. Where else in the world could you find a country such as this? Freedom is here. The country is young. It has its ups and down, but there is such a tremendous strength in the country that we can consider them growing pains. The country is strong and sound and can take a lot of hard knocks yet."

Although this prayer was written in another era, it is applicable today. I hope you find it meaningful as we prepare for this most American of holidays.

'A Prayer of Thanksgiving'

By Isadore Krug

Children, today is Thanksgiving. Before we eat and enjoy ourselves, let us give thanks. Your father and mother came to this country a few years ago, penniless, homeless and friendless. Even today we are not rich. But the Lord did not ask for riches. He asked only for daily bread. This country has given us the blessing of our daily bread. Let us be thankful!

Great schools have opened their doors to you. When you grow up, your country will offer you unlimited opportunities. May you always use your education and your opportunities to live as upright Americans and honor the American Constitution. Let us be thankful!

Do not cast your eyes down when other people call you sons of immigrants. None of their ancestors were here either when Columbus discovered America. There is only one kind of true American in this country. It is the one who lives and dies for the U.S. Constitution.

Yet do not forget that your parents came from another part of the world. You can be good Americans and still remember the native hills and rivers where your family has emigrated from. And when in the hearts of your children and children's children, every memory of the old homestead will be gone and forgotten, teach them that it is the duty of every true American to send his brotherly love and helping hand to the four corners of the Old World, which has been the ancestral home of all of us.

Now let us rise and offer our Thanksgiving prayer!

Oh Lord, bless this country!

We saved ourselves from bigotry, hatred and persecution in this free land of the setting sun. Preserve our liberty!

Bless every stone in our soil, bless every piece of earth that we turn with our shovel. Bless equally the president and his counselors in their seats of the mighty and the poorest farmer in his lowly hut!

Accept our thanks on this day of Thanksgiving, for Thou hast given us bread to still our hunger, clothes to shelter our bodies and Thou hast made our nation strong on air, sea and land.

Unite our creeds and races into one nation indivisible, and let our American Constitution of the brotherhood of man shine in every heart so that Thy kingdom of love and peace may soon be established on earth as it is in Heaven.

Amen.

Ruth K. Fischer, a musician, lives in Squirrel Hill.

Contact Portfolio at 412-263-1915 or page2@post-gazette.com.

First published on November 19, 2008 at 12:00 am