American Flag
I read her words, and then read them again.
We can’t agree on much these days but in all my naiveté, I thought we still had that thing that united us. That one thing that held us all together, the common ground, the smoother of the edges. That this single truth could breach all the divides. That the rivers of culture, history, and political trends that cut deep winding ravines throughout our country – had a bridge. That we are all Americans.
There is such pride in that red, white and blue. There’s laughter that bubbles of genuine delight when our flag is lit up by fireworks in a starry night sky. There’s deep contentment to see the flag fluttering on my parents front porch. There are misty eyes when seeing the precision and pride of our armed forces while an enormous flag billowing overhead.
“The flag in American homes to me says racist/republican - or slavish trend follower. Both countries have done some pretty horrible things while wavng those flags.”
What is so offensive about our flag? If the flag doesn’t stir something deep inside you, if you don’t see it and feel the reverence of landing on American soil after generations of being denied freedom; or see the tearful eyes of a man given a chance to better himself, if you don’t see the broken hearts of soldiers who fought to protect you sight unseen – why are you here? You enjoy the party while ridiculing the host.
How do you remain unmoved when you know that flag has flown over the best of us, and undeservedly over the rest of us.
It’s the soldier who carried my grandpa on his back from the ship to the beaches of Normandy so he wouldn’t drown, like so many others did that day.
It’s the kid from the Azores who built a life in America as a dairyman and never turned a body away hungry who came to his door looking for work during the Great Depression.
It’s a reluctant leader, and fervent speech about a dream that set a nation right.
Those bold colors, all stars and stripes bring old men to tears, and cause young men to stand a little straighter. And you pledge allegiance, but not to an idol, you pledge allegiance to all the calloused hands, and servant leaders, and heroism, compassion, history, and legend, love and loss. The words that run across our lives, words that poured from earnest lips, and pounding hearts about lofty ideals like freedom, equality, and the right to chase happiness. It’s all there in that one flag that flies over this one country.
She paid them the highest compliment you know, to say that the flag of our nation screams conservative republican. Her flippant remark only served to confirm what conservatives already believe about their liberal counterparts, that our nation’s welfare is of no consequence to them.
“ugh. American flag decor? Spells conservative republican to me.”
It’s the Oregon Trail and John Wayne. Its apple pie and baseball. Calloused hands and heads bowed in prayer. It’s Billy Graham. It’s the wide open spaces farmed to feed a nation. Its cities where cultures collide, its China town and Little Italy. Its Mark Twain, and Hemingway, Thoreau, and Steinbeck. Its Sea Biscuit and The Sandlot.
It’s choosing where you worship, choosing where you work, choosing how you live – simple things until they’ve been stripped away. It’s a nation of choice for better or for worse.
That flag flies over a country where the power is still in the hands of the people, where there’s still tangible hope what good will prevail.
That flag does in fact spell conservative republican, it also spells melting pot, it also spells a country trying to hold onto freedom in a slave driven world.
This conservative heart doesn’t fear a liberal mind; I fear the hard hearts that look upon our flag, unmoved.