OUR FLAG: Then, Now and Always

Every man or woman who has ever served our republic, our nation, our America, has a special relationship with our flag. It is a privilege to salute our Stars and Stripes as one of its soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, coast guardsmen or as a veteran of any of its armed services. It is sometimes hard for people who have not served to understand fully what that beautiful old standard means to many of us who are serving or have served. 

I have taken a journey with her, which has lasted a lifetime (or at least half of one as of this writing). I met her in baseball parks and at school when I was a child, before I really saw her for who she was, and still is, when I took my oath of service at 17 years old, in the Federal Building in Newark, New Jersey, in 1983. She was more formal than I had ever seen her until then, without the wind blowing through her blue field, stars and stripes. She stood quietly, solemnly in the back of the room while I gave her my oath. There was something proud about the oath, something exciting, maybe even a little mysterious. At that moment I knew I married that quiet girl standing in the back of the room, and it felt right.

My Dad and Granddad had fought for her, as well as my uncles and cousins, in World War I and II, Korea and in Vietnam. I lost one of my uncles, David, in World War II before I ever met him. But, as sad as that was and is, I always knew he died for something -- for her, for us and who we are and maybe who we want to be as a people and as individuals. It doesn’t make me miss my Uncle David less, even today. But, it makes me proud of how he lived and what he stood for in his life.

The sad thing about growing older is seeing family and friends pass from life. My father went to his peace beneath our flag, as has my uncles and two of my cousins. I think everyone gives some part of themselves in service to the country, whether they will admit it or not. However, some give more and there are those who give everything they are or ever will be for that simple piece of cloth that flutters free outside of buildings and gathering places of all kinds in this country. It was not the flag that made us free. It is an emblem of all those who have fought and strove and given -- and even died -- for us.

I served in the Army or its components for about 10 years. The best friends I ever made in my life I made while serving in our Army. It occurred to me once after a tough day at work while I was a soldier that I could question anything I wanted to about anything, but when I looked up -- there she was again. I aged and worked and lived my life, but she remained as young and vibrant as she had been when she was minted at the beginning of our American Experiment in freedom. Our flag doesn't change and neither does the dream of not just the past or the present, but the future and those men and women not even a thought now who will lead our republic next.

My daughters both serve: one in the U.S. Air Force and one in the U.S. Army, and I am proud of them for what they are doing. In some ways, I do feel the torch passed. My grandfather came to this country from Ireland. I never met him but my father told me that my Granddad loved this country like only an immigrant who was given the gift of citizenship could understand it. He loved this country and his family as hard as a man could. He’d be proud of my girls, as much as we are of him.

When I was a young paratrooper and infantryman, I believed in the things said by my heroes, such as President John F. Kennedy when he said that each of us should not ask what the country can do for us, but what we each can do for this nation: our home. I still do. America is a big place, with big dreams, big hopes and is a ponderous place of such beauty that it defies description.

America is still a place where someone can make their fortune by the sweat of their brow and a strong back, armed with determination and the freedoms God bequeathed to mankind at their first breath.

An older man now, with more than his fair share of aches and pains, I get dressed every morning and it is a rare day when I leave my home without squarely putting on my worn black baseball cap, with my beloved 82nd Airborne Division patch on it. Some time ago, I added to that hat by pinning a set of Airborne Wings and brass sergeant stripes on it above the patch, as reminders of golden days gone by. Maybe it’s that hat that reminds me about the old jokes and gripes, victories and defeats, girls when I still had brown hair and good and bad times with my friends and Army family. I am not ashamed to say I love those old friends still and think of our times and foolishness with some regularity.  

I have lost touch with some of those friends, while others I still speak with now and again. Some of those great guys I served with have passed on from this life since they left the Army, while others died in our nation’s service. Still, I know, somehow, I will see them again when it is my time and it will be a homecoming.

Still, that dear old flag shines down on me like a sun that can blaze in the middle of the night. I still salute her, at the beginning of every morning and the last thing every day, as I pass her going to or coming back from my chores. Sometimes, I’ve even stopped to make sure to say hello to her, so she knows I don’t take her for granted. Maybe for a half-second, I am even a teen-aged infantryman again and she is my best girl.

Oh, now and again, people have a little laugh and think I’ve grown peculiar over time with my little ritual. But, I could care less about what anyone says. I’ve invested good pieces of my life to that flag, and I would do it again if I could. And, that flag is as much a part of me as is my heart or blood, and it is my privilege and even honor to salute her every day as one of our nation’s veterans.

In life, sometimes one runs through friends and even family. Things can change in this world. But, what hasn’t changed is that flag and what it means, and what it means to me still.