I hung our flag this morning like I do most days. The American flag with a slightly small version of the United States Marine Corps flag attached just below it. Later my wife wanted me to go out and grab some doughnuts, which we two diabetics really needed. It is probably only a half a mile to the shop we prefer, the only other flag I saw out to day was about five blocks away. Some old guy like me lives over there, and he has a pole in his front yard, he also flys the American flag and his Marine Corps flag. It’s a sad state that on the day set aside to honor our war dead there was only two flags out in that large an area. But let a Mexican Socker team win a game or a fighter win a match and those damn red, white and green rags are flown all over the place. It boils my blood. I have one remaining Uncle out of four that served in WWII, Three have been buried in the last three years. The one still alive as a kid won a Purple Heart on Iwo Jima. The last to die served on a little eighteen plane aircraft carrier named the Macon Island. He was in for the duration serving in all the Pacific campains. His carrier was hit by Kamazie Planes on two occasions. he fought fires on deck and effected repairs while still under fire so the planes in the air could land before they ran out of fule. His primary job was to service the planes and clean the weapons and load it for their next mission. My Dad’s youngest brother was in the 223rd infantry division of the US Army. He was a rifle Man in the infantry. He walked all over France and Germany. He marched one hundred miles in the dead of winter thru a blizzard to relieve Airborne division at the Battle of the Bludge. The oldest Uncle I never knew, he was my Mother’s brother and as far as the family knew moved to Mexico where he married and died in 1968. He served in Italy and Germany with the Army, I know nothing about his service record. We have Marines burried in the Springfield, Mo. National Cementary who fought in Korea. My service time fell between wars, but I was there trained and ready. I entered the service four months before my eighteenth birthday. We lost five kids in the Viet Nam conflict, children of relitives. And more related to those of friends. We had people in Operation desert Storm. This last conflict has not personaly touched our family yet. But I see all the flags and stickers of people all around me in my daily life who are imersed in this time of trouble. I can go way back to the Civil War for four Great Great Grandfathers Who served for the Union. And several for the South out of Tennesse. A couple in eighteen-ninty-eight in the Spanish American War. A Grandfathers brother who died at Flanders Field in France, in WWI. A couple of old hand China Marines in the nineteen thirtys. You know it’s Ok to go to the river and play with your boat, ride your bike and bar-b-q on the holliday, but heck take a minute to remember what the day is all about. Is that too much to ask? Shuffle that beer to the left hand and stick the flag out with your right. I am not ashamed to be proud to be an American and respectfull of my ancestors. And if you are I salute you with the finger you know on my right hand, ramblingbob
JUNE 16TH TWO DAYS AFTER FLAG DAY!!
Flag day was Wensday. once again mine was the only flag flying in the neighborhood. But today I have noticed the asshole across the street had a large Mexican flag streched across his back windowof his Explorer in support of the damn soccor team again. I have come to hate that red white and green rag. I’m not sorry this is America if you can’t fly our flag leave the other crap unseen. If you have to fly it go back where it comes from. You have corropted everything we have built over the years. You have taken over our schools, hospitals, and shopping malls. you did not build them you have just driven us out and took over and cannot understand why we resent you. You force us to listen to your music inside our homes and expect us to tolerate your kids using our yards as playgrounds. The city parks we have built you take over on the weekends pushing us out. We go out to a restaraunt for a evening out and you set and loudly gabber in your lingo, allow your children to scream and yell at the table and wonder why we resent you. not sorry you have made me this way. I used to be ashamed of the way my Dad wore his prejests on his sleeve now I know why. Damn you have not wrestled the county compeletly away from us keep your rag out of our skies.