The Gift

We went to the flag store here in Sacramento Tuesday afternoon, our generation's Day of Infamy.

Our neighborhood kids waved their flags and passing traffic honked. (They're out agains tonight) They will tell their grandchildren what yesterday was like, where they were and what they did.. My neighbors discussed what to put on a tablecloth sign .. UNITED WE STAND was the choice. The flag that's lit on the second story tonight comes from our Nation's founding. Red & White stripe and the rattler... DON'T TREAD ON ME!

Torches are lit on the median strip, torches for hope and the message - Liberty will prevail!!

Healing is starting ... knowing our neighborhood kids will carry these images and pride in our great nation.

A few minutes ago, as I was just staring at the camera monitor that covers the front of our building. An elderly, hunched over gentleman walked slowly down the sidewalk. He has a stick that served as a cane. He stopped midpace as he saw the torches burning and the little flags that were criss-crossed at the base. He read the sign with obvious difficulty, stepping closer to see.

Then came the unexpected... he turned, lifted his head to see the flag some 20 feet above him, he slowly looked both ways, up and down the walk, his body began to straighten with obvious difficulty and pain... then a snappy hand salute, dredged from the memories of some distant parade field, boot camp or military ceremony. He placed index and middle finger, palm bent by age but placed squarly at the edge of the right brow, held it as long as one would, for a return salute from a imaginary superior officer and then, moments later, returned it smartly to his side.

I wanted to go out and shake his hand, but I stopped short ... realizing his memories were his own, it was a private moment that belonged exclusively to him; his actions were a selfless act of patriotism and internal pride. He had made sure he was alone with his thoughts.

This could have been my father had he survived WWII. This is what America is, small selfless acts by millions who love our way of life and cherish our freedom. I have little doubt this old man fought for our freedoms in some distant land when he was just a child himself.

The tears I fight back are ones of joy brought about by a stranger I might otherwise allow to go unnoticed. I will see him again, I'll shake his hand, and thank him for answering a prayer and helping my heart heal some more. I will sleep better this morning, for now I can say...

About twenty years ago, I was stationed at Offutt AFB. It was tho only Air Force Base I was stationed at in my twenty-plus-year career (I was usually in Army support), and the novelty wore off quickly. It was miserably hot in the summer, even more miserably cold in the winter, and I couldn't wait to get back to Germany.

One January morning, with the temperature hovering around zero, I saw a young man standing by the main gate as I drove in. Ignoring the cold, he was waving our flag. Beside him was his hand-printed sign, "THANK YOU, SAC, FOR KEEPING US FREE."

I saluted the young man as I drove by. He saw me, smiled, and waved. I later discovered the man was a local farmer, was never in the service, but had "nothing better to do that day," and thought it would be a good idea to thank us for being there.

That was one of the days I was proud to be an American.

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.