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 miniature 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.

I eventually suggested that if he shot someone for spitting on the American flag, he’d be illegally restraining their personal freedom of political expression, guaranteed by the US Constitution - an obvious irony to which he did not want to admit.

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

He quickly returned toting a big ol’ watermelon. So for the next little while we spit seeds at the lawn while we discussed spitting on flags.

“I like the kind with seeds,” he said. “It’s tradition. Reminds me of when I was a kid. Heck, I was still practically a kid when I shipped off to Nam. When I got back, I finally got to go to college. At an anti-war rally there I found a bunch of people spittin’ on an American flag. It set me off. I had risked my life for that flag. Seen men die for it. It wasn’t’ right. I know what you’re sayin’, Ben, and it makes good logical sense; that the flag is just a symbol of something far greater. But most of us in America are so emotionally tied to the flag itself. We can’t just separate the flag and freedom like that. To most of us, they are the same thing.”

I knew it was neither the time nor the place to open up the possibility that the narrow viewpoint he held could actually be called a form of idol worship, not real patriotism. (Also, I happen to rate maintaining old friendships with a higher value than I do having to prove myself “right” about something.)

We eventually parted ways that day, my friend and I, both of us filled to the gills with ripe watermelon and a few seeds we didn’t spit.

Our friendship somehow felt stronger than ever before.

If one has a friend with whom one can intelligently and respectively discuss a controversial topic, a topic on which you may disagree - without either friend ridiculing or shaming the other - then true friends you are, indeed.

No, I couldn’t bring myself to spit on the flag - even though my logical mind plainly tells me that it’s only a manmade symbol of nylon and color; just a “symbol”.

But my heart? Much like my watermelon seed-spittin’ friend, my heart tells me otherwise.

We Americans; it seems that when it comes to our flag, we tend to follow our hearts. This old teacher, included.

However, when it comes to “idolizing” a piece of cloth, all thinking people would surely agree there must be some limits.

I once visited a local church in our region (which shall go unnamed in this column). I listened closely as the pastor delivered a sermon about how we all should love America - particularly the American flag. During his entire time preaching almost nothing was “preached” of the Gospel of Christ - you know, all that stuff about loving your neighbor every bit as much as you love yourself.

More words spoken from a church pulpit about loving the American flag than about living the Gospel?

Indeed, it can be a difficult thing to realize when we are worshipping a false god - and even the most well-intentioned souls among us can fall prey to such illusions (including myself).

No, I did not spit on any flags this past Independence Day. Nor was I to be found burning any. I was far more likely to be found handing them out in honor.

However, part of the purpose of this particular column is to edify that neither you nor I, my friends, have the legal right to harm anyone who may choose to spit on Old Glory - however disrespectful we may deem their behavior.

Nor do any of us have the right to harm anyone who burns the American flag. That right, too, is fully protected by our Constitution as freedom of expression. And wisely so.

In the end, we can all be grateful - very, very grateful - that the Constitution protects our freedom of