It Still Flies

I put out our flag this morning and took a photo of it during the prettiest part of the day. It’s holding up pretty well.

Photography by Lori K. Tate

            This morning I hung my American flag on our stoop. I bought this flag a couple of years ago at Harris Teeter. It was a VIC special, and I had wanted one for a long time. When COVID-19 hit, we finally had time to do all those little things around the house that we hadn’t paid attention to. One of those things was drilling a hole for our flag holder. 

            For most of COVID, I’ve put out our flag every morning. I loved looking at it wave in the breeze while I did sit-ups on our sidewalk, its colors popping against a Carolina blue sky. Sometimes the pink branches of our crepe myrtle crept in to create the perfect Americana portrait. It was a highlight of my day. 

            Well, a few weeks ago we had to cut down the crepe myrtle, and lately, the cold rain has prevented me from putting out our flag on a regular basis. It just stood rolled up in our dining room, waiting for its moment to shine. Just like us, this flag has endured quite a year. 

            Yesterday was a terrible day for our country. I was already struggling with some personal issues before our Capitol, our citadel for democracy, was engulfed in violence and a blatant disregard for the rule of law. 

            Until my neighbor texted me asking if I was watching the news, I had no idea what was going on. Regardless, I had to take The Tots to tennis, one of the normal things we get to do these days. Driving to the park, I listened to the news in disbelief, as I tried to explain to my children what was going on. It’s hard to explain something that you don’t understand, let alone have a reference point for, so somewhere between our house and the courts, I gave up trying. 

            As the evening progressed, more images trickled in from the day, and the pit in my stomach grew. Like most everyone, I have memories of the Capitol. My parents took me there on vacation when I was little, and I’ll never forget how Congressman Bill Hefner let me sit in his chair and pretend that I was answering his phone. What a thrill for a nine year old. I’ll never forget it. And I’ll also never forget that I had his permission to sit in that chair, a chair won through the democratic process. 

            One of my defense mechanisms is sleep. When something traumatic happens, I absorb all I can of it and then I fall asleep. Last night was no different. I fell into a deep slumber that lasted until my alarm went off. As the beep blared into my ear, snippets of news reports accompanied it, reminding me of what had happened. 

            More awake a few minutes later, I listened closely to reports from Washington, and the one that stood out the most was that Congress went back into session to do its job last night. Working until the wee hours of the morning, our elected officials proved that Americans won’t let negativity extinguish our democracy, and that, my friends, is a wonderful Wink. Whether you’re a democrat, a republican or an independent, we are all human, and most of the folks reading this blog are American. 

            Despite its flaws, I love this country, and I choose to believe in a better future for it and for my children. Believing that, I reached for my flag this morning. When I placed it in the flag holder, I stared at it as it caught a breeze and began waving. It simply did what it always does, so I’m going to do what I always try to do — look for Winks

            Today and all the days after it, I beg you to squeeze every positive thing you can out of your life. If you get a great parking spot, that’s a win. If your COVID test is negative, that’s an even bigger win. If someone opens the door for you, open the door for the next person. Buy someone a coffee. Send someone a card. Put your American flag out. Be the best version of yourself.

            The only way to work through the dire challenges facing our country is to work together with people who think like you do — and people who don’t. I’m scared. I’m mad. I’m shocked. And I’m heartbroken. But most of all I’m hopeful because before I fell into a deep sleep last night, my son came into my bedroom. Sitting beside me, he touched my arm and told me that there are still lots of good people in this world. That Wink flipped my positive switch on, and I refuse to let anyone turn it off. 

            So go out there and find goodness, and when you find it, absorb it and then share it with everyone you encounter. We are so much better than what we saw yesterday; we have to be.