Post by freebird on Jul 11, 2010 7:24:21 GMT -6
I saw a flag the other day, waving slowly in the wind. It's colors faded
from the sun, tattered edges torn and thin.
I wondered why it still was flown, be so easy to replace. Why a new flag
wasn't flying, with bright colors full of grace?
The flag pole it was flying from, was in a home's front yard. I saw a man
there raking leaves, he was working very hard.
I stepped up to his picket fence, and said " How do you do?" He stopped and
leaned upon his rake, "I'm fine Sir, how are you?"
"I saw you raking up the leaves, dead from the recent cold. What really
caught my eye though, was your flag up on the pole."
"I'm not a stickler for most things, and I'll bet you think me strange. But
why is it you fly that flag, and to a newer one don't change?"
"It seems to me that there's a code, that tells us what to do. When a flag
is worn out, torn or worse and it's flying days are through."
I watched him sag a little bit, as my words went cross the yard. I could see
him searching for the words, but finding them was hard.
Just then it started raining, a sprinkle fell, or two. The clouds were
moving very fast. In a minute it'd pass through.
"Come sit with me if you've the time, and I'll answer what you've asked. We
ll share a glass of something cool, till this storm has finally passed."
Of course I couldn't beg my leave, after questioning him before. So I walked
up to his little porch, while he went through his front door.
He came back out with several beers, popped the top and offered one. Just
sat there sipping slowly, as his story was begun.
" I've flown that flag for seven years, come rain or bright sunshine. It
goes up in the morning, and it comes down about nine."
" My day begins with flying it, and ends when it comes down. The rest is
just the time between, when I usually mope around."
"That flag is old and tattered, and the color's faded too. But I wouldn't
think of changing it, for something that is new."
"Been a little over seven years, that my son went off to war. He was the
apple of my eye, I knew that he'd go far!"
"He had a college scholarship, full ride with frill and all. He'd left us to
go off to school, said each week he would call."
"He'd only been away from home, For a month or so at most. When the planes
attacked our country, shook this nation, coast to coast!"
"He called one night to tell us, he had joined up and would fight. To stay
in school and study, he believed just wasn't right."
The rain had stopped, the sky cleared up, but I didn't rise to go. I
listened to the tale he told, the ending I must know.
"My son had joined the Army, I was proud he felt the need. To fight for us
in freedom's name, tis a Heroes' task indeed!"
"Was in the Army once myself, Spent some time in Pusan too. I never thought
I'd make it home, 'fore that awful War was through!"
"I digress I am so sorry, sometimes I lose all track. Of course that war was
my fight, to my son's war I'll get back."
"My boy was sent to fight a war, in the deserts of Iraq. He left us as a
soldier, as a Veteran came back."
"He pulled two tours of duty, volunteered to stay and fight. He told us that
he sure believed, that he was doing right!"
"Wounded by an IED, he never saw the blast. Lost both legs and most his
sight, it happened awful fast."
"They shipped him back for treatment, and we thought he'd be okay. Although
he knew his life was changed, he kept his fears at bay!
"We saw him in Bethesda, where they'd sent him to get well. But something
happened there one night, it was from his bed he fell."
We didn't know how bad it was, till the doctors called us late. "Come here
and spend some time with him, he's not long for Heavens gate!"
"After that he lived for 'bout a week, then died from all his wounds. The
Doctors said was not his legs, that put him in the tombs."
"He'd hit his head as he went down, on a rail that made the bed. It's a
wonder he was still alive, was what the doctors said."
"We buried him the tenth of June, the year Two Thousand Three. Was the worst
day of my life so far, cried so hard I couldn't see."
"He had a soldiers funeral, Honor Guard was standing by. His casket covered
with a flag, the flag that I still fly."
"I think that you now understand, why that flag will always fly. It speaks
to me so softly, "Hey Dad, I'm standing by!""
"He's everywhere I look round here, his footsteps I can hear. When a breath
of air moves by my face, I know that he is near."
He paused a moment looking round, then a smile came on his face. I knew
without a question asked, the ghost that this man chased.
"Those leaves won't rake themselves today, several hours till days end."
With that he got up from the bench, and grabbed his rake again.
I thanked him for the cold one, and asked if I could pay. He laughed and
said " That's okay son, I give those things away!"
"They were my boys' most favorite brand, I keep some in pail. To share with
all my thirsty friends, who'll listen to my tale."
"It's almost like he's here again, though I know he'll never be. When
someone like you comes along. and shares some time with me."
"So back to leaves and raking, I glad that you stopped in. I've enjoyed our
time together, telling my old tale again!"
I walked away and down the road, I turned and looked again. His flag that
still flew proud and high, was waving in the wind.
It's colors now seemed brighter, and the edges not so bad. It wasn't just a
flag that flew, but a tribute to his lad.
Who fought, was wounded, then had died. in a war to set men free. This hero.
...... we all know him well, a son of our country.
Now I knew with perfect clarity, what our flag did represent. Much more than
just a colored rag, it's a symbol Heaven sent.
Red, white and blue, it's colors proud, never known to turn or run. Demand
that we all honor it, as our forefathers have done.
For each and every flag you see, some one has had to die. They've given all
they had to give, to defend it's right to fly.
Don't ever take for granted, that our flag will always fly. The minions of
our enemies, want it stricken from the sky.
Evil forces rail against it, and for everything it stands. As long as we
still wave it high, it marks God's chosen land.
I often think about that day, the man...... and the flag he flew. I thank
him for his story, means to me more than he knew.
It's seldom that I see a flag, flying high up in the sky. That I don't think
of that man's son, and what his death did buy.
A veteran.... he fought for me, so I can sleep at night. Safe within a
sheltered home, free from threat of harm or fright.
So I pass along this little rhyme, and hope it does for you. What that man
and his flag taught me, it's the least that I can do!
Pass this on to someone else, it's a tale that should be told. Our flag is
something we should love, don't let that love go cold!
Please honor it and wave it, let it fly with folds unfurled. It's served us
for two centuries, It's the best flag in the world!
from the sun, tattered edges torn and thin.
I wondered why it still was flown, be so easy to replace. Why a new flag
wasn't flying, with bright colors full of grace?
The flag pole it was flying from, was in a home's front yard. I saw a man
there raking leaves, he was working very hard.
I stepped up to his picket fence, and said " How do you do?" He stopped and
leaned upon his rake, "I'm fine Sir, how are you?"
"I saw you raking up the leaves, dead from the recent cold. What really
caught my eye though, was your flag up on the pole."
"I'm not a stickler for most things, and I'll bet you think me strange. But
why is it you fly that flag, and to a newer one don't change?"
"It seems to me that there's a code, that tells us what to do. When a flag
is worn out, torn or worse and it's flying days are through."
I watched him sag a little bit, as my words went cross the yard. I could see
him searching for the words, but finding them was hard.
Just then it started raining, a sprinkle fell, or two. The clouds were
moving very fast. In a minute it'd pass through.
"Come sit with me if you've the time, and I'll answer what you've asked. We
ll share a glass of something cool, till this storm has finally passed."
Of course I couldn't beg my leave, after questioning him before. So I walked
up to his little porch, while he went through his front door.
He came back out with several beers, popped the top and offered one. Just
sat there sipping slowly, as his story was begun.
" I've flown that flag for seven years, come rain or bright sunshine. It
goes up in the morning, and it comes down about nine."
" My day begins with flying it, and ends when it comes down. The rest is
just the time between, when I usually mope around."
"That flag is old and tattered, and the color's faded too. But I wouldn't
think of changing it, for something that is new."
"Been a little over seven years, that my son went off to war. He was the
apple of my eye, I knew that he'd go far!"
"He had a college scholarship, full ride with frill and all. He'd left us to
go off to school, said each week he would call."
"He'd only been away from home, For a month or so at most. When the planes
attacked our country, shook this nation, coast to coast!"
"He called one night to tell us, he had joined up and would fight. To stay
in school and study, he believed just wasn't right."
The rain had stopped, the sky cleared up, but I didn't rise to go. I
listened to the tale he told, the ending I must know.
"My son had joined the Army, I was proud he felt the need. To fight for us
in freedom's name, tis a Heroes' task indeed!"
"Was in the Army once myself, Spent some time in Pusan too. I never thought
I'd make it home, 'fore that awful War was through!"
"I digress I am so sorry, sometimes I lose all track. Of course that war was
my fight, to my son's war I'll get back."
"My boy was sent to fight a war, in the deserts of Iraq. He left us as a
soldier, as a Veteran came back."
"He pulled two tours of duty, volunteered to stay and fight. He told us that
he sure believed, that he was doing right!"
"Wounded by an IED, he never saw the blast. Lost both legs and most his
sight, it happened awful fast."
"They shipped him back for treatment, and we thought he'd be okay. Although
he knew his life was changed, he kept his fears at bay!
"We saw him in Bethesda, where they'd sent him to get well. But something
happened there one night, it was from his bed he fell."
We didn't know how bad it was, till the doctors called us late. "Come here
and spend some time with him, he's not long for Heavens gate!"
"After that he lived for 'bout a week, then died from all his wounds. The
Doctors said was not his legs, that put him in the tombs."
"He'd hit his head as he went down, on a rail that made the bed. It's a
wonder he was still alive, was what the doctors said."
"We buried him the tenth of June, the year Two Thousand Three. Was the worst
day of my life so far, cried so hard I couldn't see."
"He had a soldiers funeral, Honor Guard was standing by. His casket covered
with a flag, the flag that I still fly."
"I think that you now understand, why that flag will always fly. It speaks
to me so softly, "Hey Dad, I'm standing by!""
"He's everywhere I look round here, his footsteps I can hear. When a breath
of air moves by my face, I know that he is near."
He paused a moment looking round, then a smile came on his face. I knew
without a question asked, the ghost that this man chased.
"Those leaves won't rake themselves today, several hours till days end."
With that he got up from the bench, and grabbed his rake again.
I thanked him for the cold one, and asked if I could pay. He laughed and
said " That's okay son, I give those things away!"
"They were my boys' most favorite brand, I keep some in pail. To share with
all my thirsty friends, who'll listen to my tale."
"It's almost like he's here again, though I know he'll never be. When
someone like you comes along. and shares some time with me."
"So back to leaves and raking, I glad that you stopped in. I've enjoyed our
time together, telling my old tale again!"
I walked away and down the road, I turned and looked again. His flag that
still flew proud and high, was waving in the wind.
It's colors now seemed brighter, and the edges not so bad. It wasn't just a
flag that flew, but a tribute to his lad.
Who fought, was wounded, then had died. in a war to set men free. This hero.
...... we all know him well, a son of our country.
Now I knew with perfect clarity, what our flag did represent. Much more than
just a colored rag, it's a symbol Heaven sent.
Red, white and blue, it's colors proud, never known to turn or run. Demand
that we all honor it, as our forefathers have done.
For each and every flag you see, some one has had to die. They've given all
they had to give, to defend it's right to fly.
Don't ever take for granted, that our flag will always fly. The minions of
our enemies, want it stricken from the sky.
Evil forces rail against it, and for everything it stands. As long as we
still wave it high, it marks God's chosen land.
I often think about that day, the man...... and the flag he flew. I thank
him for his story, means to me more than he knew.
It's seldom that I see a flag, flying high up in the sky. That I don't think
of that man's son, and what his death did buy.
A veteran.... he fought for me, so I can sleep at night. Safe within a
sheltered home, free from threat of harm or fright.
So I pass along this little rhyme, and hope it does for you. What that man
and his flag taught me, it's the least that I can do!
Pass this on to someone else, it's a tale that should be told. Our flag is
something we should love, don't let that love go cold!
Please honor it and wave it, let it fly with folds unfurled. It's served us
for two centuries, It's the best flag in the world!