Front Porch: Let’s return the American flag to its original meaning

The Fourth of July approaches, and there will be American flags aplenty to celebrate America’s birthday.

That’s as it should be. I love the flag. I love this country. What I’m not loving is what’s happening to the flag in the country that I love.

I grew up in a family of quiet patriots. My father always displayed the flag on July 4 and perhaps on a few other patriotic holidays. It was at a time when that was pretty much the norm. There weren’t flags flying every day except at the post office, schools and other government offices.

When I was young we lived in a neighborhood in New York City largely populated by Irish Catholics (St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church was just down the block from our house) and a few renegade other folks. My best friend in those early years was Kathleen Murphy. Eileen O’Shea was another playmate.

We were Lutheran, the original betrayers of the Mother Church, but there were Jews, Italian Catholics, a few other Protestants and, I would wager, an atheist or two here and there – and among them all, a number of immigrant families, of which we were one. My father was born in Germany, and my mother was the daughter of immigrants.

Every Fourth of July, my father surveyed our block to see who put their flags out. I’ve told this story before, so I won’t belabor it, but he always noted that it was the immigrant families who had the stars and stripes on display, not those to whom citizenship was bestowed as a birthright.

But things have changed. Flags are flown everywhere all the time, painted on buildings, placed on poles in the bed of pickup trucks and driven (rather aggressively, I’ve noted) through town and country, worn as all variety of clothing (from Speedos to bandanas), and as a marketing phenomenon to sell all sorts of wares.

And also, perversely, it’s become wrapped around religion. And, if I may venture further, we’ve passively allowed it to be co-opted to signify specific political points of view, no longer as a universal embrace of America, in all its complexities, varieties and points of view.

I recognize that the flag has been used as a symbol of protest or alarm throughout our history. Flown upside down, it’s a signal of distress. Burned in public during the Vietnam War, it’s a symbol of opposition to that war. That’s not what I’m talking about.

Today’s embrace of all things flag is supposed to be about patriotism, love for country. But somehow, it’s not. It’s become a statement that the more red-white-and-blue you display yourself, the more “American” you are. Quantity, not quality. Flags are the domain of the “real” Americans. Immigrants and “others,” keep your hands off.

I am not a fan of the crassification, exclusive possession and weaponization of this symbol of my country.

It’s not for me to say how anyone should express respect for America. But what’s lacking in this aggressive flaunting of Old Glory is that key thing – respect.

Did you know there’s such a thing as American flag-themed toilet paper?

Used to be that when I’d see an American flag flying, I perceived it as a nice thing. Ah, I’d think, there goes a patriot, a person who votes, is a good citizen, perhaps supports candidates for office, works for the common good, pays his/her taxes, believes (generally) in the promise of democratic (lowercase “d”) America and is a worthy person. It felt good.

Now when I see a flag – other than at expected places and times – I often pause. What am I really looking at? Is this a person or place I should fear?

When did seeing the American flag in nontraditional circumstances make me nervous?

This weekend I will be putting our American flag out on its well-worn bracket on the front of our house to celebrate the Fourth of July weekend. Happy birthday, America. Sincerely.

I don’t have any answers to this complicated sense of ownership that has wrapped itself in this traditional symbol of America. I just know that my flag has been hijacked.

I want my flag back.