Do You Remember Me?

By Anonymous

Dear Mr. and Mrs. America:
                Hello, remember me? Some people call me Old Glory, others call me the Stars and Stripes; also, I have been referred to as the Star Spangled Banner. But, whatever they call me, I am your flag or as I proudly state, the flag of the United States of America. There is something that has been bothering me, so I thought I might talk it over with you, because it is about you and me.
                I remember sometime ago - it may have been Memorial Day or Veteran's Day or even Independence Day - people were lined up on both sides of the street to watch the parade. The high school band was behind me and naturally I was leading the parade. When your daddy saw me coming along waving in the breeze, he immediately removed his hat and placed it against his left shoulder so that his hand was directly over his heart. Remember?
                And you - I remember you. Standing straight as a soldier, you didn't have a hat on but you were giving the right salute. They taught you in school to place your hand over your heart. Remember your older brother and sister, they were saluting the same as you. I was very proud as I came down your street. Some servicemen and women in uniform - they could have been your big brother, or your daddy, or your mother, or sister - were standing at attention and rendering me the military salute. Everyone on the parade route was paying me the reverence I deserve.
                Now, I may sound as if I am a little conceited. Well, I am! I have a right to be because I represent the finest country in the world, the United States of America. More than one aggressive nation has tried to haul me down, but they have all felt the fury of this freedom-loving country. You know. Your daddy and your granddaddies and many of their friends and your friends had to go overseas to defend me. Some never came home again.
                What happened? I'm still the same old flag. Oh, I have a couple more stars added since your daddy was a boy. A lot more blood has been shed for me since those special days of so long ago. Daddy is an old man now and many of those old friends are gone. The old hometown has a new look. The last time I came down your street, I saw that some of the old landmarks were gone, but many new businesses and homes have replaced them.
                But now, I don't feel as proud as I used to back then. When I come down your street, the people just stand there with their hands in their pockets and give me a small glance and then look away. When I see that happen, I think of all the places I've been: Cuba, Belleau Wood, Anzio, Okinawa, along the Yalu River, Hue, and a hundred other blood-spattered hellholes. I see the children running around and shouting and they don't even seem to know who I am. I saw an old man take his hat off and then quickly look around. He saw that nobody else had taken their hats off, or had even noticed me, so he quickly put his back on and looked sadly and self-consciously around to see if anybody had seen him.
                Yes, I fly high on that great flagpole at the merchant's place of business and I snap smartly in the breeze, but I know I am only being used to draw your attention to the merchant's wares. The politicians use me as a backdrop and as a prop to show you their "patriotism" while making promises to you that are never going to be kept. Many wear me as items of clothing or throw me to the ground and even burn me to show their contempt for me and the nation I represent. I fly alone in the darkness of the night, often tattered and torn on the front-yard flagpoles of well-meaning citizens who are ignorant of the code of etiquette for my display.
                I am disappointed in you. Yes, I know that deep down you still retain the respect for me you learned as a child. But you see the disrespect and desecration I suffer all around you and you silently condone it through your inaction and silence. I would have expected you to stand up and defend me. The men and women who honored and defended me with their blood deserve your outrage at those who should know better. I am looking to you and to the millions of your brothers and sisters to bring back those days of glory when I paraded so proudly on that street of your hometown.
                Is it a sin to be patriotic anymore, have they forgotten what I stand for? Have they forgotten all the battlefields where men and women have fought and died for this nation? Don't they know that when they salute me they are actually saluting them?
                Take a look at the Rolls of Honor sometime. Look at the names of those that never came back. Some of them were friends of your family or even members of your family. They deserve all the honors we can bestow on them.
                Regardless of whether you personally knew them or not, they paid the ultimate price for what I represent. When I am saluted, they and all the people that make up this great nation of ours are the ones actually being saluted. I am merely their visual representative who accepts your salute in their behalf.
               Well, it won't be long until I'll be coming down your street again. So, when you see me, stand straight, place your hand over your heart and you'll really see me waving back - my salute to you. Then I'll know that you remembered.
                Now that the blood of American patriots is once again being shed in foreign lands, many of my patriotic friends have recently unfurled me to show their support for our nation and its armed forces.
                However, I have noticed that a few of you need reminders that I demand proper reverence and respect when you display me. With the approach of Flag Day on June 14, I hope that anybody who is unsure of the proper etiquette for my display will contact any one of the several veterans' organizations in our local area, or visit the public library for information. And above all, I hope you don't forget me on my special day.

YOUR FLAG

This is respectfully submitted by webmaster's father, Mr. M. Craner, with the following permission and further info from Edmund P. Murphy who submitted it to the Yuma Sun newspaper where Mr. Craner saw it.

"The attached essay was given to me (Edmund P. Murphy) while I was stationed with the USAF on Okinawa during the early 1960's. I do not know who was the original author, nor do I remember the name of the airman who gave it me in 1961. After reviewing the text of the original document, I believe it was probably composed during or just after the Korean War. The copy given to me did not have a signature, nor was there any copyright information on it. I have taken the liberty of changing some of the text from its original so that the essay reflects a more contemporary view of our treatment for our flag."