In America, today is Memorial Day. This last Monday in May is set aside for us to remember soldiers who’ve lost their lives while defending our country. It started some time during the Civil War and has been going on ever since.
I don’t know how much actual remembering goes on, as it sometimes seems that most of us see the day as a barbecue-ing opportunity. A ton of hard-working Americans get the day off, so I totally understand the appeal of a backyard cookout. And hey – day-drinking on a Monday? Why the heck not!
For Mister and me, this day begins with us putting Flaggy out. (That’s what we call our big old flag.) Flaggy’s holder – by the front door – waits patiently for holidays, for we keep Flaggy inside the rest of the time.
I remember when I got Flaggy. It was shortly after the tragedies of September 11, 2001. My friend Gillian and I were talking about how we both wanted to get flags for our homes. The two of us tried shop after shop, to no avail. At that time, a whole lot of folks had decided they wanted to own flags and most shops had sold out. I was not deterred, however, so I tried one last shop (without Gillian) and waited in line for about an hour. By the time I reached the inside counter and chose my flag, I was totally smitten with the thing. The first time Mister and I put it out to wave in the wind, we were both goners. Yes, we had become flag people.
I have friends who’ve seen the flag outside our house and have questioned my sanity. I certainly don’t feel I have to explain myself or anything. Not to friends, and not even here. But I will say this: Flaggy looks so grand beside our front door. Graceful, bold, strong. I love the colors. I love the fabric. I even love the fact that we only put it out on certain days. I’m still smitten.
Here’s to remembering.