The Red, White and Blue

Some people say that the World War II Veterans are the last of the Great Americans. That generation had such pride in their country and considered it an honor to serve their nation, to fly their flag, and to proudly declare their allegiance to the United States. My late uncle Walt was no exception. He served with the Marines in the Pacific in the height of the war as an airplane mechanic. My uncle survived the war and came back to the United States and built a family and comfortable life outside Baltimore where his family had lived since the 1600s. I did not see him often but when I did, you can be sure that he was eager to show me the picture in his left breast pocket of the airplanes he worked on. It gave him great pleasure to explain the significance of that picture. When he died in 2010 at age 92, I took my then 9-year-old daughter to Maryland with me to the funeral. Of course, she was not exactly delighted to be my accomplice on this mission. However, she was a good sport and did her duty. We did not discuss it much afterwards since we were already mentally changing gears in our rush back to New Jersey for the start of a new school year the following day. I was surprised the next week when the elementary school secretary asked me where I had taken Marirose and if there was a recent death in the family. My daughter was randomly chosen to be first for flag duty at her school. She was thrilled to be chosen for this honor and the chance, of course, to escape the classroom for as long as it was deemed acceptable to carry out this duty. The secretary reported that my daughter was the first student that she’s known, in all her years there, to enter the office and carefully present her with the flag folded in a tight triangle. Normally, she said, it is handed to her in a crumbled ball. When the secretary asked how she learned to do this, my daughter described the Marine Honor Guard’s example at her great-uncle’s gravesite. Having seen up-close the Marine honor guard deliberately and precisely fold the flag that was draped over the coffin into a tight triangle, left an indelible impression. At the time, lost in my own thoughts, I did not realize the extent to which she had paid attention. In the days after, I marveled at the fact that my uncle may have indeed been orchestrating this final act of patriotism from his perch high above, or at the least, been satisfied that this occasion delivered one final lesson in patriotism. My daughter, upon the secretary’s request, taught the next group of students how to honor the flag in the correct manner. With the National Flag day upon us, let us all think of the men and women who have sacrificed time and again for hundreds of years for this great country. This flag waves for the veterans, it waves for those who stay behind and keep this great country humming with prosperity and peace, it waves for those who sought its safe shores and freedoms, and it waves for future generations who do not know yet the significance of the red, white and blue. On June 14, remember there are little ears waiting to hear one more story and one final lesson. Peggy Bolgiano Fischer Sparta