Each day I am appalled at the treatment of the symbol of our hard won freedom, the red stripes reminding us of the supreme sacrifice of blood shed so we may enjoy life as it is now. One evening I walked to the post office, hoping to get there before it closed at five. I was unsuccessful, the gates were closed over the windows and door, no one in sight. But above the building, waving valiantly in the breeze that only just changed from bitter to mild, was our flag. I waited a moment to see if maybe someone would come out to relieve our colors, but there was no one.
Protocol calls for the flag to be lowered ceremoniously at sunset.
I knew this flag would wave through the night, as its sister flags do at the Main Capitol. There is an elementary school across the street from my home. Sometimes I watch the young maintenance man dressed like a Hell's Angel come out and take down the flag. I cringe as he lets the flag fall swiftly from its lofty perch, straight into his waiting arms. Once I saw the flag touch the ground.