I flew the American flag at our house on Friday. It was, in spite of everything, the Fourth of July, and conventional. Our household had been placing out the flag yearly because the Eighties. However this time felt completely different. I didn’t really feel as proud, or as patriotic, or as certain of what it really meant to me or others.
Did people within the space suppose I used to be a gun-rights conservative who supported the president, like those that drive round city of their pickups with flags flying within the breeze? Or did they suppose I used to be a greenie persevering with to imagine in the USA as a power for good on the earth and at house? Or possibly they curled their lips in disgust on the present of help for a rustic that many suppose has misplaced its approach?
It’s an odd and unsettling feeling to be unsure what it means to fly the American flag.
Mark Adams, Camano Island
