Our Flag, My Flag
Here is hardly anything more beautiful than to be on a troopship coming into harbor with all those American flags flying. I’m home, I’m home, I’m home.
From the time I was a 12-year-old old Boy Scout I remember being respectful to the flag that represents so many good things about the United States of America.
I am a first generation American as were so many of my classmates. We were Scots, Italian, Yugoslavian, Mexican, Polish, Japanese, Irish and more. It was a great time and a great place to grow up and every morning we recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Some might call this brain washing but it was in gratitude for a country that would allow us to be what we could not have been if our parents had stayed in the old country.
We could be and were engineers, doctors, chemists, teachers, dentists, lawyers, small businessmen, mayors, senators and more. That is what the flag means. I can arm myself with a firearm and no one can take it from me, I’m a free man. My kids, grandkids and great grandkids can go to any school or university they wish, for there are no class distinctions. I can vote for anyone I wish and I can run for office if I don’t like what I see, and I can win.
A whole lot of my friends wore the uniform of our country and served under the Stars and Stripes. They did well. I knew them all, infantry, medics, bomber pilots, ammo bearers, rangers and a lot who never said what they did and never talked about it. They treat our flag with respect.
The young man I saw on television who scraped his shoes on the flag and jumped up and down on it is lucky to live in America under that flag for if he had been in some other country and it was their flag he could have been shot on the spot.
For the people who hate our flag and our country and are still here I would raise the money to buy them a one way ticket to the country of their choice.