This was meant to be a response to a blog post about the flag, and inappropriate use. These are my personal feelings, and while I understand people's feelings about the flag and it's protection, I feel that I should express myself. I have read the flag code, and probably have a lot of it memorized. I can tell you the appropriate way to burn the flag after it has become worn and tattered and can no longer be repaired. I can also tell you how a Soldier is to treat the flag if the installation is about to fall. These are my feelings, and while some may get angered, and some may get happy about them, I am only sharing them because I wrote them to be shared. Unfortunately, blog comments can be no more than 2,000 characters. This is also only my opinion.
While I feel a sense of pride when saluting the flag, I do not feel that we should get so up in arms about a piece of cloth that is most likely made on foreign soil.
I know that if something should happen to me, my casket will be draped with the flag, and then ceremoniously folded by some of my brothers (or sisters) in arms, and handed to my next of kin. I know that there will be 3 shells from the firing party placed into the final fold of the flag, and that specific words will be spoken to my next of kin. I know that, that will become a sacred and honored flag, to be placed in a place to be cherished for the rest of my father's days, to be given to one of my children upon them reaching an appropriate age, and that regardless, I will never be able to live up to what that flag means to so many.
It's not what the flag is that makes it special to me. It's not what the flag is that makes me make sure that on my right shoulder; it is always centered, always on right when I put on my uniform every day. To me, that is a piece of two colored plastic with a hook and loop backing. It is what the flag represents. The flag does not represent a nation, or a President, or even a citizen. That flag, that piece of cloth, those 13 stripes, (7 red, 6 white), the field of blue with 50 white stars--it does more. It represents each and every one of the people who live in that Nation and call themselves Americans. It represents those who have come before me, and who have made the ultimate sacrifice. It represents those who came before me and who came home, with scars that cannot be seen and that will never be healed. Those who lost a brother, a sister, a mother, a father, a wife, a husband, an aunt, or an uncle. It is for the children left at home, waiting until the next time they hear their mom or dad's voice over a phone line that is crackly and full of static. But they cherish every word, every sigh, ever moment of silence and every moment of sound.
It is the young wife or husband who stand there, waiting for that eternity to pass, watching that plane arrive agonizingly slow. Waiting on their loved to come off that plane, knowing that they are tired, but watching them come running down the ramp in uniform. Moving in slow motion as they close the distance, and then feeling that feeling they have missed for oh so long. Wanting nothing more than that feeling to last forever, and then wishing they could already be at home, making up for lost time.
It is for my brothers and sisters who watch their children grow up in pictures, while they do something that they have no choice in. All they knew is they wanted to serve something bigger than them, or to try and improve their life. It's for brothers and sisters, those who can no longer stand to salute the flag, or those who cannot raise their hand, but try with everything in their power.
I do not protest against those who wish to use the flag as a form of expression. I protest against those who hide behind it. I do not protest those who burn the flag, but those who hate what it stands for. I do not mind the child who may not know the right to fly the flag, but those who wear the pin and have no love for it. I dislike those who's picture is always in front of it, but have no idea the sacrifice for it. I despise those who wave it when convenient, but ask something of them, and they run and hide.
I do not fly the flag in my room. It is not hung inappropriately (touching the building) in front of my house. It is not a sticker on the bumper of my truck. My flag has flown over the headquarters of the Multi-National Forces in Iraq. It has flown on the moon. My flag has been burned. My flag has been shot. My flag has been trampled. My flag was flown upside down, and it was displayed backwards. My flag has been draped over every service member, police officer, firefighter, President, and Congressman who has been laid to rest. My flag, not the one on my right shoulder, flies in my heart. It is not why I serve, but why I serve with Pride. I am honored to be an American, and proud to serve the United States of America.
