The Honor Guard

On July 4th I had the honor of marching with the color guard in the Ossipee July 4th Parade. I use the term marcning loosely, because what this middle aged man with a damaged knee did could hardly be called marching even in the loosest sense of the word. It was more like a limping stroll down Moultonville Rd. It was the first time I had participated in the Parade in this capacity, and it was heartwarming to hear the applause from the viewers lining the side of the road. The warmth and sincerity was music to my ears. The girl who came up to me at the end of the parade and handed me a pin of the American Flag, and the smile on her face as I asked her to pin it on my shirt, and the hug she blessed me with afterward set a warm rush through my heart. What did bother me during the parade, and frankly it bothers me all the time when the flag is presented, is the lack of respect our national flag seems to get and how it seems to deteriorate every year. I was bought up to respect the flag, stand when it goes by, take my hat off and hold it over my heart. I was taught to sing the National Anthem with gusto and pride even though I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. When I joined the Navy I was taught to salute the flag even before requesting permission to board the ship. I was taught to treat it with honor and dignity, fold it with care, carry it with reverence, and above all to protect it with my life. I took those edicts very seriously,and still do. When many look at the flag they see a piece of cloth flapping in the breeze, when I look at the flag, I see the signers of the Declaration who were signing their own death warrant if things turned out differently. I see the men who shed their blood in places like Lexington and Concord, fighting a vastly superior army with much more training I see families who through the sweat of their brow and daily toils who carved out a little place for themselves in the American wilderness. I see the blood and carnage of Antietam, Bull Run, and Gettysburg. I see the bandages and the carnage in places like Flanders Field and the trenches of Europe in a world torn apart by war. I see the anguish caused by places like Normandy, Pearl Harbor, and the Phillipines. I see the pride in a group of Marines raising the flag on Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima. I see places like Pusan, Inchon, Quesang, Da Nang. I see mighty war ships with 16 inch guns, I see PT boats with their hit and run tactics. I see swift boats plying the brown waters of the rivers in Vietnam. When I see the flag I see mothers who are burying their sons, I see the tears in a fathers eyes as he sends his son off to war. I see 240 caskets lined up side by side and end to end for the peacekeepers in Beirut.

When I see a flag I see a country that rolled up its sleeves and worked together to get done what had to be done. I see a country who got together and pulled itself through the great depression. I see a flag that represents a country that looked to the stars and said what is out there, then worked hard to find out. I see a country that is able to overcome any adversity that is put in its way if we only work together instead of fighting each other. I see a country who proudly sends help when they see a neighbor inneed but does not ask for help in return.

My friends, that is what I see when I look at those colors go by or fly from a flagpole in front of some building. I don't just see a piece of colored cloth flapping in the breeze, I see 235 years of history. And when I render honors to those wonderful colors, I render honor to every man and woman who through the sweat of their brow worked to make this country as great as it is. Please think of this next time some middle aged guy limping along goes by in an honor guard with the American Flag proudly held out leading the way.