Throughout all of the years I have lived in this community, I have always noticed the flag of my country flying over the local grade school. Over the many years, I have seen it flown at full staff while others had been lowered to half-staff in honor of one thing or another. I have seen her flying in the dark of night without a flicker of light. I have seen her absence as though none were present with the parking lot full. I have seen her repel high winds, rain and blizzards of notoriety.
The other day, Memorial Day, it was the second of a two-day-long drizzling rain. My wife and I drove past when I noticed that flag in the most disgraceful and disrespectful condition ever. She had been lowered all the way down, entangled upon the pole and her ropes. Before she tangled, I am certain she had dragged the ground below. This disgrace on the day we honor those who died under and fighting for that flag and all she represents. I stopped, untangled it, and briefly considered taking it from those who no longer deserved it. Instead, I raised it back that she might again hold her place of honor. The following day, I could no longer hold my tongue and called the school. I let them know in no uncertain terms of my feelings and that should I see her disrespected again, they would understand why she had gone missing.
