Soon after I bought my house, I purchased and installed a flag mount for my front porch. I have a sizeable American flag that I hang on the usual flag-appropriate holidays. And then I bring it in.
I have a few neighbors who no doubt consider themselves super patriots. Their flag mounts are high up in the eaves, reachable only with a tall ladder, and thus a permanent fixture. Their flags fly proudly all the time. All the time. In inclement weather. In the dark of night. In a stained, faded, and tattered condition.
I’m not a veteran or a Boy Scout, but I’m not stupid. There’s such a thing as flag etiquette, and most of us stumble across that fact somewhere in life. The basic underlying message of flag protocol is respect—respect for the symbol and for all the sacrifices and ideals it represents.
Some years back, in the midst of the Gulf wars and the high incidence of ridiculously oversized SUVs, it became the “patriotic” thing to do to attach a small flag to one’s vehicle. It seemed every pickup truck and Suburban competed to see who could fly the flag most proudly. Then these flag-wavers let them flap in the breeze of a 60-mile-per-hour freeway commute. In a matter of days, the cheap little banners were tattered and torn. Still, they fluttered on for months. Right beside the “Support Our Troops” ribbon.
Ah, irony.
This morning was overcast, and there was a tiny sprinkle in the air. Still, I thought I had some good Labor Day flag-flying time. I put it out about 7:30 this morning. It wasn’t until noon that rain really began to fall. I dashed outside and brought the flag in before the real downpour began. The flag might not go out again today, I don’t know. But I do know that the next time it goes out, it goes out fresh and unfaded, whole and entire. And it has served me for ten years.
Don’t just display your flag. Respect it.