By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

Let me see if I get this right: It is legally possible and permissible to burn the United States flag as a constitutionally protected right of free speech BUT, in Fayetteville, Ga., it may soon be illegal to display too many American flags in public.

Here's the situation, as I understand it. Somewhere, someone, somehow, came up with the idea that displaying too many American flags, especially by a business, and especially in Fayetteville, is somehow ... un-American. Or, if not un-American, then just downright unsightly.

In a few days, the City Council will deal with a proposal that would restrict the displaying of flags to a maximum of two: one American flag and one other flag, presumably a state flag (hmmm... is it the flag with or without the Confederate battle symbol?).

When I was a small child, my parents would take me to the annual Independence Day parade that wound its way down Broad Street and East Center Street in Kingsport, Tenn. There one could see the Shriner's in their “funny cars,” the high school bands playing with gusto, the multitudes of horses and people dressed as cowboys, and the assorted sprinkling of local beauty queens and politicians riding in open air automobiles and waving to the crowds.

But what I remember most are the flags. Scores of American flags. In truth, probably hundreds of American flags proudly carried by color guards, scout groups, and veterans organizations, added to the thousands of miniature flags waved by nearly everyone along the parade route. The Independence Day parade was an explosion of red, white, and blue. I didn't understand it all, but it somehow made me feel all tingly and a part of a great wonderful “something.”

On the first day of the first grade at Dickson Elementary School, the teacher had us all stand, face a red, white and blue banner, place our hands over our heart and recite, “I pledge allegiance to the flag...” The ritual was repeated day after day year after year for as long as I attended Dickson School.

In junior high and then in high school, our teams would run out onto the gridiron on Friday nights, and just before the commencement of the game, would remove our helmets, come to perfect stillness, and, following a brief prayer — which was legal in those days — turn to face the flag.

As the flag was raised or presented by the color guard, the band would play and the 5,000 or so assembled would sing, “O, say can you see...” Those earlier tingles from the parades would return as the crowd bellowed out, “...that our flag was still there!”

Before I knew it, it was 0530 in the morning at Fort Lee, Va. In freezing rain or sweltering shine, a few dozen of my fellow Marines would assemble with hundreds of soldiers, stand at attention, and salute as the flag of the United States was raised to the playing of the national anthem.

There was a war going on in Southeast Asia. Many of us had friends over there and some in the formation had either been or would soon go. The flag reminded us that American men would die today. The least we could do was to display and salute the flag they would fight under and perish defending.

I thought of Joe Meade and Jimmy Johnson, schoolmates and friends, who had died in Vietnam. I thought of Lonnie Bailey, my next-door neighbor, who had been terribly wounded in a vicious and violent fire fight in some nightmare rice paddy. I saluted them as I saluted the flag.

Later, I would serve on honor guards and help fold these same flags as they were presented to the survivors of gallant young men who died in combat. I watched helplessly as grief-stricken widows in their early twenties clutched the flag to their breasts and sobbed their anguished tears into it as their soldier, or sailor, or airman, or marine was solemnly lowered into the cold, unforgiving earth. I choked back tears of my own as small, uncomprehending children touched the colorful cloth being stained by their mother's sorrow.

When the Gulf War began many years later, I displayed a flag on my front porch. I vowed that I would not take it down, no matter what, until the war was over and the men and women were home. I kept that vow.

Although, I generally don't believe in displaying flags during services of worship, I had a flag brought into the sanctuary during the Gulf War. It served as a constant reminder that some from our own church were in harm's way and it called us to fervent prayer for their safety. We left it up for the longest time, even after the young men safely returned to their lives and families.

I love Memorial Day and Veteran's Day, when flags are flown from homes and business, and even cars. I display the flag on those days and, along with the Marine Corps flag, on Nov. 10, the birthday of the Corps. I display it on May 15, too, as I remember the fallen police officers who have died in the line of duty defending the nation against domestic enemies.

So, I have no sympathy for those who want to take the flags down for whatever might be their reason. If burning a flag is a form of constitutionally protected free speech, surely the display of the flag ... as many as desired ... is also.

I understand that many members of the City Council of Fayetteville are Vietnam veterans. I have great confidence that they will do the right thing and dispense with this proposal quickly and permanently. They owe it to their comrades who died in the cause of freedom. To do otherwise is just ... well ... un-American.

[David Epps is rector of Christ the King Church in Peachtree City. He may be contacted online at FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

Back to Opinion Home Page | Back to the top of the page