Smash pointed out yesterday that today would be
a good day to welcome home the Third Marine Air Wing, recently returned from
Iraq.
I haven't gone before - although I've cheered
the
Protest Warriors for their efforts, I haven't been able, or made the
time, to throw myself on the playing field. No excuses, just the way it's been.
But this was at Miramar, which is only a hop, skip and a jump from home. And
anyways, it was very unlikely that I'd have to worry about keeping my temper in
front of a Marine Corps Air Station. Very unlikely that someone there would goad
me beyond endurance.
So I
went.
In the pics from Joanie's site,
everyone had a sign. I didn't have a sign. And making signs takes talent, and it
takes time. Two things in short supply,
chéz
moi. But I had access to a flag, through
the free market system. So I ran past Ace Hardware on my way down, and picked
one up.
I'd had a flag flying from
the front of the inport cabin for nigh on two years and a bit. It had become a
little too faded to convey just the right message, so I regretfully took it down
a couple of months ago. I'd been meaning to get a replacement ever since, it
just hadn't bubbled up to the top of the priority
list.
So today was a perfect
opportunity.
And I met Smash, who
seemed to me a perfect gentleman (full of restless energy, in case you're
curious) and Joanie (and the little dude , too), and you probably won't be
surprised to find that they were all marvelously ordinary, perfectly wonderful
people. And I also met Craig (I think?), who runs the
Carpe Bonum
site, and was a welcome surprise, both in person and, once I got home, in
pixels. And there was someone else there, whose name I only barely took, and
whose URL escapes me.
And the meat
of the story is that I stood there on the corner of the North Gate at MCAS
Miramar and waved my flag and waved my hands to all of the various and sundry
Marines who made their way home that night, some of whom looked so painfully
young that you just wanted to bite your wrist, thinking about what they'd seen
and done. For us.
But they waved back
and smiled and gave us thumbs up, and honked their horns. And in this they were
joined by many of the several passers-by, some with graying pony tails, some
bald with Harley-Davidson beards and some entirely nondescript. Just folks, who
saw our signs and flags and thought they'd join in, on the way to wherever it
was that they were
going.
And
it wasn't so very much of a thing to do, compared to what these folks have done
for us. But it made me feel good to have done it, without any sense of irony or
cynicism. And I met some wonderful people. It did my heart
well.
On the way home, after, I drove
through my little community, eager to re-mount my new flag at its place of honor
in front of the house. And I remembered coming home from cruise in '03, and
being impressed at all the flags flying in my neighborhood - I used to count
them, every day: Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.
Twenty or more Old Glories flying from
the front of middle class houses in San Diego, California. When I got close to
home, there were sheet posters up, welcoming me back. The Hobbit had been busy
making friends.
Today when I drove
back, because my mind was turned that way, I counted flags again. As I passed a
half mile, I'd only gotten to five. Five, when before there were twenty or so.
Same folks. Same neighborhood. Different
time.
Other flags there were,
multi-colored, happy, meaningless. And many of the houses had the rest where a
flag used to sit, now empty. Waiting, I suppose - but for what, I cannot
imagine. Maybe you can take the flag down one day, after everyone else has done
so. But maybe pulling the rest out of the wood means having to fill the screw
holes with plastic wood.
Maybe that's
too much work.
And when I was almost
home, I saw my sixth flag. It had been a while since I'd seen one. I was somehow
suddenly relieved.
Got out of my car.
Pulled Old Glory out from her place of honor in the car. Hoisted her up through
the ivy, putting the dowel rod home in the flag
rest.
There. Seven.
Posted @
07:44 PM
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Posted in
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Sendit
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Credo
"Sign on, young man, and sail with me. The stature of our homeland is no more than the measure of ourselves. Our job is to keep her free. Our will is to keep the torch of freedom burning for all. To this solemn purpose we call on the young, the brave, the strong, and the free. Heed my call, Come to the sea. Come Sail with me." - John Paul Jones
"Pardon him, Theodotus; he is a barbarian, and thinks that the customs of his tribe and island are the laws of nature" --George Bernard Shaw, "Ceasar and Cleopatra"
"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."--Friederich Nietzsche
