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Tuesday, March 2, 2010

A Floating Flag

As I watch the 2010 winter Olympics in Vancover( which I have to admit I am addicted to) I am proud of the American Teams and athletics that have dedicated their lives to a particular sport in order to achieve greatness. One in particular was Evan Lysacek. I watched Evan receive a gold medal for men's figure skating and during the medal ceremony the American Flag was raised and our anthem was played. The pride in his face, the glow in his eyes, and our flag in its glory. It reminded me of a time when I saw the American flag and it was floating in my pool. I am not sure what happened but the flag fell off the flag pole on the deck in the backyard of my home and it dropped in the pool on top of the pool cover in the cold winter of NYC. I watch most of the winter go by and the flag move from back to back in my in-ground swimming pool in a body of water. I watched it through rain, snow, and heavy winds and still it remained on top of the pool covered in water.

Finally, a warm spring day arrived in NYC and everyone was out and about either running, walking or just being outside. I had finished my daily run when I looked out the window to my backyard to see my Grandfather (At this time he was staying with my mother and I in my home part-time while being nursed back to health.) He was leaning over the pool trying to fish out the American Flag that was floating by all winter. At first, I wanted to run outside and tell him to stop I would get it but it just happened so fast. I watched as my grandfather finally got the flag out and sat down on one of the dirty lawn chairs outside. He ran his fingers across the flag with disbelief that it was outside for months. It was dirty and ripped. After looking at the flag for sometime, my grandfather sat up and walked in the house. I thought for sure he was going to yell at me or say something. He didn't. He never mentioned the flag at all to me that day.

Three days later, I was looking out the window into my backyard thinking about heading outside to do some yard work and I see my grandfather again. He was sitting down on the dirty lawn chair with the American Flag on his lap and a needle and thread in his hand. He was sewing the flag back together. It was cleaned and pressed too! When he finished sewing he walked over to the flag pole hanging the flag back up in its rightful place. He never mentioned a word to me. But the pride in his eyes for that flag and what is symbolized needed no words. It was so apparent and clear. He loved his country and his country loved him.

God Bless America!