Flag Day

Someone mentioned yesterday that Sunday was Flag Day, and one of my sons said jokingly, “So, we’re worshiping the flag?’ No, not worshiping, but revering, respecting.

The closest thing I can liken it to is a wedding ring. What it symbolizes is more important than the symbol, but the symbol holds a special place in the hearts of its owner, too.

It’s sad to me that the flag is not more highly regarded than it is by and large these days. Maybe we’re too far removed from the days of waiting, hoping, praying through the night to see if “the flag was still there.” I think we take our freedoms too much for granted.

I posted this last year, but it is a good reminder.

I Am Old Glory

I Am Old Glory: For more than ten score years I have been the banner of hope and freedom for generation after generation of Americans.

Born amid the first flames of America’s fight for freedom, I am the symbol of a country that has grown from a little group of thirteen colonies to a united nation of fifty sovereign states.

Planted firmly on the high pinnacle of American Faith my gently fluttering folds have proved an inspiration to untold millions.

Men have followed me into battle with unwavering courage.

They have looked upon me as a symbol of national unity.

They have prayed that they and their fellow citizens might continue to enjoy the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness, which have been granted to every American as the heritage of free men.

So long as men love liberty more than life itself; so long as they treasure the priceless privileges bought with the blood of our forefathers; so long as the principles of truth, justice and charity for all remain deeply rooted in human hearts, I shall continue to be the enduring banner of the United States of America.

Originally written by Master Sergeant Percy Webb, USMC.

I love this poem as well:

Off with your hat as the flag goes by!
And let the heart have it say;
You’re man enough for a tear in your eye
That you will never wipe away.
You’re man enough for a thrill that goes
To your very finger-tips–
Ay! the lump just then in your throat that rose
Spoke more than your parted lips.
Lift up the boy on your shoulder high,
And show him the faded shred;
Those stripes would be red as the sunset sky
If death could have dyed them red.
Off with your hat as the flag goes by!
Uncover the youngster’s head;
Teach him to hold it holy and high
For the sake of its sacred dead.

~ H. C. Bunner

Graphic fis courtesy of Anne’s Place.