I’m a flag waver. Proud to be. I used to just display the colors on the various national holidays, but last year I hung the stars and stripes from our porch beginning on Memorial Day and left her up through Labor Day, and I’m doing the same thing again this year.
Hanging as it is from a pair of mismatched eyehooks screwed into a leftover dowel I’m obviously not a fundamentalist stickler when it comes to proper flag display protocol, except for one particular point: if you’re going to let your banner yet wave in the dark it must be directly illuminated. I see it as patriotic homage to the rockets’ red glare Francis Scott Key witnessed and wrote about. Proof through the night that our flag was still there, and all that.
Plus, it looks purty.
But for the last two weeks-plus, mine has not been so proved. And it’s bothered me. But not toothache bothered me… more like Gary Coleman’s ex-wife or The Bachelorette bothered me. And so I finally addressed and remedied the situation yesterday and admired her last night.
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