Old Glory, Old Loyalty

Old Glory, Old Loyalty.

By R.J. Godlewski*

In and of itself, a flag holds no special value. It’s just a piece of cloth or nylon sewn together. It can come in a range of colors and shapes; some rather bland, others more dramatic. Beauty, as they say, is in the eyes of the beholder. Yet, what makes a flag so inherently special is not so much within its design, but its very place of flight. Consider a flag made of equal squares of black and white. Nearly everyone will instantly recognize the checkered flag, but if you saw one wave in front of you while leading the pack at either the Indy or Daytona 500 I am quite certain that you would find the location to be one of your life’s greatest memories.

Flags also hold meaning to those intimately aware of their significance, regardless of whether the rest of the planet merely sees only the sewn cloth. When I designed the flag for the International Nuclear Emergency Response Team, I wanted something that would send a signal to all of those terrorists and rogue nations that aid and abet them. A simple signal that there’s someone gunning for them that isn’t compromised by a transitory lifestyle; that INERT will continue to hunt them down, to develop new techniques and technologies to aid in the effort, and that they don’t have a monopoly on religious zeal. A flag, therefore, can also be a battle cry; a testament to honor, faith, and human compassion.

Of course, no flag in existence can lay claim to the pure raw emotions afforded by the national flag of the United States of America – Old Glory. Some hate it, such as the Iranian military which for some twenty odd years has marched across this symbol of freedom and democracy. Others, such as our friends in Albania, waved the flag in droves as our president visited their tiny but important nation. They knew exactly what our flag meant to the world and their own freedom and they weren’t inconsiderate enough to trash it in protest for petty grievances. This flag which shares the same colors as the simpler French Tricolor and the more complex British Union Jack, means so much more in that no nation on this planet owes so much to those who’ve died while serving under her shadow.

Yes, the American flag is a very special piece of rectangular cloth. When aloft; glorified by the blazing sun; it takes away my breath as I gaze upon her magnificent simplicity. Her white stripes appear most pure. Her red stripes most demanding. Her blue field of stars signifies that our country is the one where the sky is literally the limit. Yet, it is not so much in her design that means so much to me; it is the nation that she represents that literally weakens my knees. Perhaps, I am guilty of being too much of a romantic, but when I say that I love my country I literally mean it. I haven’t been everywhere around the globe, mind you, but when I’ve returned to my home nation I’ve always felt a little tingling sensation running up my spine as I behold the cleanliness, hospitality, and sheer opportunity that the United States represents.

Oh, I know. There are people out there who don’t share my love for the United States. I don’t really blame them; they’re just ignorant of what, precisely, America stands for. They see our involvement in Iraq, for example, and equate our people with Satan himself. I find this a bit odd, myself. Just today I saw on the television news another example of how the Shiites and the Sunnis are fighting each other over their religious ideas. Muslims killing Muslims. Mohammed must be turning over in his grave. I find this most revealing considering that the war in Iraq has split this nation of ours literally right down the middle, but I don’t see Democrats and Republicans blowing each other up. I don’t see masked citizens running around machine gunning little children and women to bits. We fight our disagreements through the legislative and electoral processes only. You ought to give it a try.

Our culture is so diverse that we only need a simple flag to envelope our spirit. Something that can empower both black and white, red and yellow, male and female, young and old. You can literally take a dart and throw it at a map of the world and not be able to strike a country that doesn’t have descendants here. I, myself, am from Polish and Austrian descent. Still, as I sit here writing these words I am listening to an old cassette tape of the Irish Rovers. I fear no one kicking down my doors to punish me for my selection of music. I may have just as easily decided to crank up one of my Gregorian chant CDs. Being free gives one the option of choosing one’s religion. No Protestants kicking down my doors. No Hindus. No Buddhists. In our country, atheists and Christians get along better than Sunnis and Shiites apparently do. Chalk that up to our flag too.

People may decide to burn or desecrate our flag out of hatred for everything that we stand for. No big deal. They can’t destroy our spirit. They can’t destroy our determination to uphold our freedoms. The flag itself is nothing more than cloth as I am nothing more than human flesh. Someone might take my life someday. I might just grow old and mentally challenged. Yet, in spite of all the curveballs that life throws towards us, my spirit will continue to soar on through eternity. The same is with the United States of America. Five hundred years from now, our nation may no longer exist. There may be no ‘Americans’ left walking upon this planet. Still, somewhere there will be a recordation of Old Glory’s image and someone will understand what she meant for the world.

So let’s all take a step back and admire our flag if only for one day. Let’s gaze deeply into her breathtakingly beautiful colors and understand what they represent. Let’s remember each word to our National Anthem and feel proud about what “yet waves.” Nowhere else in modern or ancient history can a simple piece of sewn cloth mean so much as does the one that proudly flies over the “land of the free, and the home of the brave.”

Note: The background flag in my header image is flying aboard the U.S.S. Arizona and was taken while I was stationed at Pearl Harbor in 1983.

Read yesterday’s article here.

Remember our troops.