My love affair with Old Glory started in sixth grade as a school crossing patrol boy.
Leading first and second graders down the street single file.
They have their marching orders.
My flag and red helmet were as close as it gets to the front lines.
Nothing could disturb this rush of control—except maybe a junior high miscreant looking for trouble.
The perks were good.
Getting out of class fifteen minutes early to roam the halls.
Something I would continue to embrace all my life.
I don’t recall anyone thanking me for my service.
Today has a new class of flag bearers.
Some clutch it like a well-worn security blanket.
The unashamed sucking their thumbs.
Others wrap it around a gun like a tasty appetizer.
It goes well with war and God.
Like the Titanic, many will go down with the ship.
As sirens wail on the way to an unknown location, another tear appears.
Flutter freely… You deserve it.
I prefer the flag paintings of Jasper Johns. They speak more clearly to me.
Go fly that, patriot!
Flags by Frankie Laufer
