On Memorial Day I realized I left more than my mother, a permanent tan and friends who like to party with white wine in San Diego. I left my American flag.
I noticed there was no flag bracket on our house here. I think flag brackets are standard issue back in La Jolla. Not sure if the reason is that San Diego grew up around the U.S. Naval base or because we lived in a neighborhood that rivals Norman Rockwell storybooks.
Driving around Ithaca over the holiday, I didn’t see much in the way of red, white and blue. I thought I would at least see a few porches boasting the symbol of the free world. I guess no matter where you live, for the majority, the day means sales at the mall, baseball or a reason to BBQ. If I want to teach my kids patriotism, I have to fly my own flag.
I get this from my mother who did things like make us all stop for a moment on Thanksgiving before the fight over drumsticks to bow our heads, or, spent her Christmas reminding us of the “reason for the season.”
Now it’s my turn and with the kids asking me questions about Afghanistan and Iraq, and now Korea, I feel it’s more important than ever to talk about the fallen soldiers and what serving your country means.
It’s a big concept and makes for good conversation when you have a day off.
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