Roy Exum
If the Town of Lookout Mountain had not displayed long rows of American flags on both sides of Scenic Highway, the fact Monday was a national holiday would have escaped me. And this from a kid that began every day at the mountain’s elementary school by standing – with my classmates beside our desks -- and saying with reverence, “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America …”
Do any of us still do that? Then why is it, some 60 years later in life, does it mean far more than it did back when we were young innocents, devoid of the strife and heartache I feel is more rampant than at any other time in my life. After all, it’s the flag’s fault, you know. I found that out that one night in high school when a picture had appeared in the newspaper that showed two “flower children” in California setting an American flag on fire.
My family, which included six children, had one strict rule. Supper was at 6:30 every night and, if you weren’t excused beforehand, it was “Katie Bar the Door” if you weren’t in your chair. No phone calls allowed and until every child had a chance to speak his or her mind, a few nights were tougher than swallowing a Brussel sprout. The vast majority – overwhelmingly – were such fun we always had neighborhood kids join “the show” and the discussions were some of my greatest learning experiences.
The hippies burning the flag was a never-forget moment. I said people like that were hatched and should be left adrift far out in the Pacific. My older brother Kinch, already enlisted in the Marines, ventured the vagrants should be horsewhipped until unconscious and then shot repeatedly. My dad, born with deep loyalty having been born in Mississippi, asked us why? “They are criminals,” I countered, and Kinch called ‘em “traitors." Jonathan said they were “foul” and Franklin identified them as “ugly.”
“The problem each of you have is that the very flag they are destroying if what allows them to do that. As repulsive and horrifying as it may well be, that flag stands for freedom. Many men have died under those colors and, for what? The wheat crop in Kansas? Our Congress? Give me a good example of why we need to kill them, and I do admire your voices…” he said.
“People have died for that flag because it represents freedom. We know that from school … but what they don’t teach is there are ‘good’ freedoms and ‘bad’ freedoms. By good I mean we can worship as we please. We can attend school, we can live fully in the greatest nation God has ever allowed. Americans don’t need ‘big brother’s’ permission for darn near anything. Look at Russia!”
Then tell me about bad freedoms. “I get there are laws and rules but if America is at war, to protest is unpatriotic. If you aren’t a member of the team, move to another country and say anything you want!” Dad shook his head. “In other countries you can’t say anything you want but, in America, you have the freedom to protest in your voice. “The Boston Tea Party was a protest … so was the Civil War. It wouldn’t be far from base to say America’s growing pains are the product of protests.
“The flag assures civil protests … the liberty for citizens to gather … and you’ll one day understand our two-party political system is divided by two groups that think their particular candidate aligns more with their personal beliefs. The ballot box, where every voter is equal, that we believe is the best way, only functions based on individual freedom.”
Maybe, I conceded, “but I’m still betting that that hippie girl with greasy hair doesn’t shave her legs.”
Mother: “We will not have that language at this table!”
Franklin: “Ugly!
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During a recent Super Bowl, the wives of the NFL owners sponsored a salute to the flag that featured Medal of Honor member Kyle Capender and the words of Johnny Cash. CLICK HERE.
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Royexum@aol.com