The Flag of Friendship
We visited the old hood in the city this weekend and had a great time -- as well as an inspired angel food and fruit trifle. Our former neighbors are so nice! And interesting. There we were, performing the ring-chain trick over the pregnant belly of a Guantanamo human rights lawyer, keeping an eye on the kiddies (no peeing in the pool!), and thinking: Why exactly did we move??!
Was it that time our neighbor was sitting in his car, not one block from our house, and a man slid into the passenger seat and jabbed a gun into his ribs? Because he's fine!! Was it the media center at the corner school? The one without new books? Because if you consider it a "classics" library, it sounds much nicer, no?
Well, whatever, we're here now -- in the land of milk and honey, and parks and libraries, and an overwhelming Democratic majority, and I think I have identified our problem in making new friends. It's the damn flag on our house.
Now, I love America. I get tingles from that crappy Lee Greenwood song and I loved, loved, loved Johnny Tremaine when I was a little girl. (I used to try to pick up things without my thumb, so that I could understand his sacrifice!!) My grandparents were very happy to come here -- except for one, who wrote pathetic letters to the Irish government, begging to be allowed back in. (That's a whole other story...) But the flag, which the old owners NAILED to the house...well, I'm afraid it says, "I voted for W!" Which I didn't!! Or even worse, "I support the war in Iraq!"
But what do I do? It's like crucified up there. Would it be unpatriotic to tear it down? Am I going to have to find a troop of Boy Scouts to preside over an official burial? I know I'm not supposed to just throw it in the trash with the poopy diapers and watermelon rinds that I refuse to throw in the compost because that plague-ridden rat is eating them. In any case, it seems like a hell of a lot of work, no doubt involving aluminum extension ladders and Holy Water... is it worth making new friends? Hm. I wonder.
Was it that time our neighbor was sitting in his car, not one block from our house, and a man slid into the passenger seat and jabbed a gun into his ribs? Because he's fine!! Was it the media center at the corner school? The one without new books? Because if you consider it a "classics" library, it sounds much nicer, no?
Well, whatever, we're here now -- in the land of milk and honey, and parks and libraries, and an overwhelming Democratic majority, and I think I have identified our problem in making new friends. It's the damn flag on our house.
Now, I love America. I get tingles from that crappy Lee Greenwood song and I loved, loved, loved Johnny Tremaine when I was a little girl. (I used to try to pick up things without my thumb, so that I could understand his sacrifice!!) My grandparents were very happy to come here -- except for one, who wrote pathetic letters to the Irish government, begging to be allowed back in. (That's a whole other story...) But the flag, which the old owners NAILED to the house...well, I'm afraid it says, "I voted for W!" Which I didn't!! Or even worse, "I support the war in Iraq!"
But what do I do? It's like crucified up there. Would it be unpatriotic to tear it down? Am I going to have to find a troop of Boy Scouts to preside over an official burial? I know I'm not supposed to just throw it in the trash with the poopy diapers and watermelon rinds that I refuse to throw in the compost because that plague-ridden rat is eating them. In any case, it seems like a hell of a lot of work, no doubt involving aluminum extension ladders and Holy Water... is it worth making new friends? Hm. I wonder.
posted by Mary Ellen at
9:28 AM
3 Comments:
I was wondering when you were going to do something about that- it does scream very I love W and guns. Which is silly, since it's our flag too! Keep it up! Reclaim it for the liberals- we can make a peace sign out of fairy lights to go over it!
It's funny because I was contemplating asking my building if they minded if I put up the flag on the Fourth of July. We've got the flag pole holder right over the entrance and everything. Then I realized that I'd probably get lynched.
But I'm with Pamela. It's our country, too!
Never noticed the flag...how clueless am I?
But we LOVED having you guys over this weekend in the former 'hood. Anya told a story about Baby Margaret (oh no! She's showing favorites?!)in which all kinds of hijinks were had. Crazy Baby Margaret.
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