Spitting on the Flag

During the week or two preceding the 4th of July, for many years on end, I could be found driving around delivering American flags to friends. I made this annual journey for several reasons.

One is because I love this one-of-a-kind country so much.

Another is that giving out such flags was a very tangible way to thank my many local friends who helped me help Bristol’s children in some way during the previous year.

Yet another is that while I was out handing out flags, I was still teaching.

I’ve yet to come across a fellow citizen who doesn’t appreciate an American flag as a gift. Old Glory flies high on our national collective list of emotionally-attached objects. Indeed, it can be difficult, if not impossible, for many of us to separate our emotion from fact regarding this particular object.  And that’s where the teacher in me kicks into gear, as in this column.

One old friend whom I visited told me (as I was walking toward him with a flag), “If somebody was to spit on that I’d kill ‘em.”

Well … a “teachable moment” suddenly sprang up from within and told me that I should spit on the flag right then, right in front of my friend. Just a little spit, not a big one. (But when it comes to American flag spitting, I’m not sure there are any “little” spits.)

I puckered up like I was ready to eject a big ol’ watermelon seed, but I just couldn’t bring myself to spit on the flag.

No, not out of fear of what my friend might do. Out of respect. Deep respect. No, not so much for the flag itself, but for what it “stands for”.

The flag in my hand was made of either polyester or nylon (I’m not sure which). Regardless, it was entirely a manmade object. There was not a single thing holy or sacred, or even patriotic, about it … at least if one examined it scientifically at a molecular level.

Ah, but what the flag “stands for”? Now that is something else again.

Yes, we all know what the American flag represents; in a word: freedom.

One could make a very valid point that to want to kill someone for spitting on an object that represents freedom is to spit in the face of freedom itself (which all reasonable people would agree is far worse than spitting on a piece of manmade nylon). 

My friend, who also happened to be a Vietnam vet, and I sat on his front porch and discussed this point at length.

Suddenly my friend leaped up and ran into his house. (Lordamighty! Was he going to get a gun? The question did cross my mind.)