Sunday, May 22, 2016

Off the top of my head ...

Entrance to son's place

Dang it, folks ... I'm pissed angry.
Angry, and sad.

Some of you may have heard about the ambush that took the life of a Phoenix police officer Wednesday afternoon, not far from my workplace.  35 years old ... he was a decade younger than my own son.

Unfortunately, these sorts of tragedies are not unusual.
I don't know why this particular case has affected me so keenly.  I never met the officer, but my heart aches for his family.

Of course, Governor Ducey immediately called for flags to be flown at half-mast.  
Anyone care to guess how many I counted yesterday during my running around?   

Even the U.S. Postal Service missed the memo.
Seriously, I wanted to turn around, march inside and ask them what in the **** they're thinking.
(Ah well, the postal employees' I've seen recently just personify the robotic voice in my phone.)

I hope I'm wrong, but I suspect, in some circles, our flag's become an after-thought.

OK, rant's over!  (For now.)

To be fair, I didn't always ... but I love our flag.
My son's taught me a lot about patriotism, by example -- something he gets from his Grandpa.

Some of you've heard this story before, but I never tire of sharing.  Who knows ... my dad's ritual might catch on?!

Ever the patriot, my father was real big on flying the flag for Special occasions.   
Ours being the quissential government town, I thought it unusual (that) more folks weren't acquainted with the "do's" and "don'ts" of flag etiquette.   Instead, they looked to the Willer's front porch:  If our flag was displayed, they'd hurry to put theirs out before leaving for work.   

One afternoon, a neighbor approached my father.   A bit embarrassed, he asked, "What exactly are we commemorating today, Ad?"    To which my father deadpanned, "It's Lum's birthday."
Remember, I said Special occasions?  To Dad's way of thinking, each of our birthdays was reason to fly the U.S. Flag.    I'm not sure what the VFW would have to say about that, but I still chuckle imagining our neighbors inadvertently helping to commemorate each of our birthdays.

* * *

Thanks for bearing with me this morning, friends.
I promise to do better, lighter next time.

Hugs from Phoenix,