If you just drive by the empty property on Appleby Road, once the home of a long-time printing business, you may just notice the American flag, waving in the wind. No big surprise there - we are a nation given to flying flags, from the ones over government buildings to the laughably huge flags which serve to alert folks that, hey, we sell cars here!
But if you are prone to walking tours, as I am (never on the trails - I prefer to be around the sights and sounds of the city I live in), you may notice something else about the flag, which isn’t quite at half-mast, but isn’t at full-mast, either.
And there is something else about the flag which commands one’s attention, as well; it is a tattered flag.
And not just tattered as in the sense that it is a flag which someone has simply owned for far too long, and not disposed of in the proper manner, but it has been ripped, torn and cut deliberately before being hoisted up on the flagpole. The flag just appears too new for it to seem anything else.
This is a political statement, pure, raw and simple.
Given what has been happening in Washington over the past few weeks, I can easily imagine someone coming in the dead of night with a flag which they have sat at home and ripped, torn and cut until it resembled the symbol of a country - or a government, at least - which they must have felt had finally come apart at the seams.
There are those who will take great offense if they see this, and others who will not even care one way or another - some of the great Undecideds the press venerates, perhaps - but others may look upon it and wonder if what side of the political spectrum the man or woman (assuming this was the act of a single individual) this person sleeps on at night.
I don’t think it matters, though, in the end. What matters is that someone felt strongly enough about what is happening in the world to take it upon themselves to do this, without fanfare, without a press release, without a note on Facebook or Twitter.
I took some beautiful photographs of the flag, but haven’t quite mastered this business of posting photos to my blog yet, though I hope to display them one day. Later today I hope to get some video footage of the flag.
If you get a chance, take a drive down Appleby before the Realtor notices it is there and takes it down - along with the flagpole too, probably. Because there’s nothing like a little overreaction . . .
I’ll tell you if they do.
Today’s blog was written to the tune the great Fayetteville singer/songwriter Jori Costello’s CD Home Grown.
What do mean, you don’t have a copy yet?
Viewers of Fayetteville Public Access Television may have caught her “My Least Favorite Thing,” which has played many times, and is one of my personal favorites.
Quote of the Day
The Universe speaks in many languages, but only one voice. The language is not Narn, or Human, or Centauri, or Gaim or Minbari. It speaks in the language of hope; It speaks in the language of trust; It speaks in the language of strength, and the language of compassion. It is the language of the heart and the language of the soul. But always, it is the same voice. It is the voice of our ancestors, speaking through us, And the voice of our inheritors, waiting to be born. It is the small, still voice that says: We are one. No matter the blood; No matter the skin; No matter the world; No matter the star; We are one. No matter the pain; No matter the darkness; No matter the loss; No matter the fear; We are one. Here, gathered together in common cause. we agree to recognize this singular truth, and this singular rule: That we must be kind to one another, because each voice enriches us and ennobles us, and each voice lost diminishes us. We are the voice of the Universe, the soul of creation, the fire that will light the way to a better future. We are one. - G’Kar’s Declaration of Principles, “Babylon 5"
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