I have always had a sense of patriotism even as a young boy growing up. There was the very short membership I had in the Cub Scouts, the numerous high school football games where we played, or sang, the National Anthem, or the many places I've lived in the past ten years where a flag has most always graced our porch. I can't remember if there was one on our house when I grew up, but whenever I would see a house with a flag flying from the porch or waving proudly from the top of a pole, I thought about how my house would one day look with one. The reason I fly my flag; however, has changed from that young, naive boy's thoughts about completing the aesthetic flow of the house to more of a proud feeling of being a citizen. Events surrounding different flags hold a special place in my heart as well, whether it is looking at a flag that is in a display box which draped a serviceman's casket or one that flew over a government building during a time of historic legislating.
The flag flying off of my house now is just one of the many purchased from the local hardware store with no historical significance surrounding it. However, when we first moved to Wisconsin several years ago, we rented a house that had a flagpole installed in the front yard area. Soon a flag was flying from that very tall pole that was a bit smaller than what needed to be up there. However, that flag was very significant in that it was one my grandfather had flown from his house many years ago. Each morning, I'd go out, run it up the pole, and have a brief moment with my grandfather that only he and I would know. Then, when the wind died down and the flag fell limp, it would be as if he was watching as I walked away, blowing a little breeze so I could watch it proudly wave again and renew my sense of pride.
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