When I was a young man in my early 20’s I bought a leather Top Gun bomber jacket at the local mall. This was my all time favorite article of clothing that I treasured until it was stolen at a party in college a few years later. However when I first bought it and before I brought it home, I stopped at an Army Navy store and picked up a bunch of military patches to sew onto my new jacket.
I brought these items home, and I was arranging them on my jacket to see what would look best and where. My father who was passing through the room asked what I was up to, and I showed him the patches and explained to him what I was doing. He frowned and said that it was inappropriate for me to sew these onto my jacket as I have not earned the privilege to wear them. I had not served in any of these units, nor was a member of the Armed Forces, and thus I was making a mockery of their service. It struck me how profound of a statement that was…I was going to wear a jacket that was to be festooned with patches bearing the insignia of those that have gone before me making any number of sacrifices along the way. He continued to say that too often these units (specifically the Marine Corps’ EGA, and the 101stAirborne insignia) are often worn out of protest by those opposed to the military and its purpose. My gut tells me that he was referring to those in the Vietnam days who wore military uniforms daily as a form of protest or even worse; a fashion statement.
My sudden realization of how absurd my plan was and the slight shame that followed was abruptly interrupted by my father picking up the patch with the American flag on it, and saying to me “Now you can sew this on and wear it proudly because you’re an American.”
He held it higher for me to see with an extended arm, and he continued.
“This one…This flag means so much too so many, never do it harm. Never fail to understand its meaning. Never be ashamed to wear it or show it…Ever.”
He handed me the flag patch and said to sew it on my left sleeve.
I came away from that conversation with the same kind of reflection that most 20 something’s would have. I respected what he said, and I knew he was right, however other factors in my life dictated that I should sew the rest of the patches on anyway. I started to pack them all into a bag with the jacket to go to the cleaners, I stopped, took them out and left the flag patch in there with a note to sew it the left sleeve. Eventually I resided to wearing a harmless “Fly Navy” pin on the collar.
Fast forward to today…I see the flag everywhere. I see it on signs, bumper stickers displaying “union pride”, or some other group identity slogan. I see it morphed into some kind of campaign logo, and I see it worn in khaki on the sleeves of Soldiers and Marines in combat zones. I see it laid out neatly in rows on transport airplanes in Dover AFB covering the bodies of our fallen, I see it worn as a pin on many public figure’s lapels, and I see the flag flown at half mast for entertainers who have died suddenly of mysterious causes. I see these things often, and I recall the conversation that I had with my father years ago…I wonder how well his words would be received today, since the flag is more of a trademark than anything these days. I wonder how I am going to approach this topic with my children when they are of age, or would they even care about the sacred nature of the flag and its meaning. I briefly considered my father’s sentiment as old fashioned and arcane at the time, so it is safe to assume the answer to this question.
However, I grew up in a household that was run by parents from the Greatest Generation, and they instilled in me the pride, responsibility and understanding of what it means to be an American citizen, and the flag is the visual symbol of these things, and it is for this reason that I will continue to embrace the flag and all of its meanings, and I will share these ideals with my children and anyone else who would care to listen. I have to do this, if not for myself, and my country, but for my father.
Sadly and proudly, I did see the flag utilized in another fashion and that was when it was draped over his coffin at his funeral not too long ago. As I looked upon that site, I was briefly and stoically reminded of our conversation in the 80’s, and the 20+ years of my life that have transpired since. I also knew deep down that I had (and still do) honored the traditions and values that he instilled in me, and that I was destined to pass this message onto the next generation regardless of how well it may be received.
