Hope. Unity. Reclaiming the American Flag.

In celebration of the galvanizing and magical 4 days we have witnessed that was the Democratic Convention, reupping my post from August 16th. At long last, after more than 9 long, years of divisiveness, rancor, ugliness and the co-opting of America’s ideals by an extremist cult, Democrats have hope, are unified and have reclaimed patriotism and flag —- symbols representing our democracy that belong to all Americans, not just a self-selected few.

(If you are like me, a woman of a certain age coming up at a time in history where we straddled two very distinct and conflicting cultures —- one that fostered a traditional role for women and another that gave birth to feminism —- please consider subscribing to GirlUnCensored — it’s free! I hope you will take the opportunity to express your opinions and share your insights. Because we all want to be listened to.❤️)

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the American flag.

Back in May I had the honor and privilege of attending a full military internment in Arlington Cemetery —- also referred to as a “full honors funeral’ —-reserved for those who served our country.

Being placed in his final resting place was a close friend of close friends, someone I had met and spent time with over the years. He served in the 1st Calvary division of the Army 2nd Battalion, 12th U.S. Cavalry Regiment and was awarded the Silver Star for exceptional bravery under fire in Vietnam.

It was a solemn ceremony, with traditional military rituals in the dignified environment of Arlington Cemetery, including a lone solider playing Taps, a 21-gun-salute, folding of the flag and its presentation to the family.

Then it happened. Out of nowhere and without warning, this overwhelming feeling of patriotism hit me. Where in the world did that come from?

The service was officiated by a military chaplain who said two things that have stuck with me: 1) the spaces in Arlington Cemetery cannot be purchased, they’re earned and 2) that during his lifetime the deceased honored the flag; in death, the flag honors him.

Ever since, the American flag has been on my mind, specifically what it represents (or is supposed to represent) —- and the words of the military chaplain of honoring the flag in life as the flag will honor in death.

I was taught the American flag symbolizes our country and its founding as a whole —- the thirteen stripes representing the original thirteen colonies that declared independence from Britain; fifty stars signifying our country’s fifty states; red symbolizing valor and bravery, white representing purity and innocence and blue standing for vigilance, perseverance and justice.

I was taught to respect the flag. It was never to touch the ground, was to be taken down at dusk and was not to be burned or defaced in any fashion. All instilled in me by my Dad, a Korean War Vet, having served in the Navy.

It was a defining moment in his life. He hung The Flag every Memorial Day, Flag Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Veteran’s Day and every single election day. He honored the Flag and the country it represented; the country he fought for.

I will admit, it has been at least a decade since I’ve been as diligent and/or as loyal to those rituals my Dad instilled in me so many years ago. In large part because MAGA and the Extreme Right co-opted/bastardized our America’s flag turning it and its meaning, its representation upside down, literally.

They took ownership of our stars and stripes and patriotism as if the American Flag belonged only to one party, one group, instead of all citizens of this great nation. For the rest of us to be considered “Patriots” and/or qualified to fly the American Flag, we had to pledge our undying love and support to MAGA. An oxymoron when you think about it.

Then four plus weeks ago happened. With a selfless, country-over-party act, President Joe Biden passed the Presidential candidate torch to his vice president, Kamala Harris who then chose MN Tim Walz as her running mate. And Viola! We are once again a country filled to the brim with Hope. We are unifying joyfully, around the ideals our country was founded, in an effort to perfect and strengthen those ideals moving forward.

As a woman of certain age, I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of support, the commitment and motivation to get involved by everyday Americans, who are no longer intimidated or mired down in the doom and gloom of MAGA and the Extreme Right who proclaim on a daily basis, “we are a country in decline.” No. We are not. Far from it. Our country has rightfully reclaimed the American flag belonging to its people. And we have reclaimed our inclusive Spirit.

At the moment we have the wind at our backs, with less than 81 days left until November 5, 2024. But —- we are the underdogs in this race and under no circumstances can we take our foot off the gas if for even one second. As I have written previously, Hope is not a strategy on its own. Hope lives when there is action.

There are swing states screaming for volunteers to knock on doors. There are voters to register, voters to contact, phone calls to make and history to be made. If there was ever time to throw your laptop to the side and leap off of the sofa, it is now. Because 74 days —-