Thursday, August 04, 2005
Flags
Like many other houses in our area, the Shotgun Manor has an American flag flying out front. I positioned the floodlights around our driveway so that they would illuminate the flag at night so that we can display it 24/7. Arizona can be a very windy place, so I have to replace our flag every few months due to wind damage. This replacement cycle makes sure that we almost always display a fresh, good looking flag. Almost.
On special holidays the clean, new flag get taken down and replaced with a ragged, faded, dirty, torn and scorched flag.
Why do I do this? Because that ragged old flag was the one flying over our house when it burned down.
A little over two years ago, my wife and I came home from dinner to find our house surrounded by fire trucks and hoses running through the hole where our front door used to be. It only took 14 minutes for the fire to gut the house, and it was still burning in some places when we got home. The neighbors said that at one point the heat was making our roof move like waves on the ocean.
My memory of the hours immediately following the fire are a mixture of blurred movement punctuated by moments of extreme clarity. I remember the smell of smoke in the house, the sweat dripping from the faces of the firefighters, the feel of soggy insulation under my feet as I walked through the wreckage......but I have no idea what period of time those memories cover. It could have been 15 minutes, or it could be 3 hours. I simply don't know.
One of the memories that sticks out is the realization that our flag was gone. It hangs right next to the front porch so that every visitor walks by it on the way in and out. It's absence registered with me, but I dismissed it rather quickly as I had other things to worry about. I remember thinking that it must have been knocked down by the hoses or the people rushing by. It wasn't until the next day when we were sorting through what was left of our life that I found out what happened to the flag.
It was folded neatly and sitting in a part of the garage that didn't burn. One of the fire fighters who responded to our fire took it down, folded it, and stored it safely out of the way while the fire was being put out. The flag was slightly burned, soot stained, and torn in several places....but it survived the fire because someone cared about it.
I fly that flag on holidays as a reminder to myself and to the world that no matter what happens, we will still be here......because someone cares.
__
On special holidays the clean, new flag get taken down and replaced with a ragged, faded, dirty, torn and scorched flag.
Why do I do this? Because that ragged old flag was the one flying over our house when it burned down.
A little over two years ago, my wife and I came home from dinner to find our house surrounded by fire trucks and hoses running through the hole where our front door used to be. It only took 14 minutes for the fire to gut the house, and it was still burning in some places when we got home. The neighbors said that at one point the heat was making our roof move like waves on the ocean.
My memory of the hours immediately following the fire are a mixture of blurred movement punctuated by moments of extreme clarity. I remember the smell of smoke in the house, the sweat dripping from the faces of the firefighters, the feel of soggy insulation under my feet as I walked through the wreckage......but I have no idea what period of time those memories cover. It could have been 15 minutes, or it could be 3 hours. I simply don't know.
One of the memories that sticks out is the realization that our flag was gone. It hangs right next to the front porch so that every visitor walks by it on the way in and out. It's absence registered with me, but I dismissed it rather quickly as I had other things to worry about. I remember thinking that it must have been knocked down by the hoses or the people rushing by. It wasn't until the next day when we were sorting through what was left of our life that I found out what happened to the flag.
It was folded neatly and sitting in a part of the garage that didn't burn. One of the fire fighters who responded to our fire took it down, folded it, and stored it safely out of the way while the fire was being put out. The flag was slightly burned, soot stained, and torn in several places....but it survived the fire because someone cared about it.
I fly that flag on holidays as a reminder to myself and to the world that no matter what happens, we will still be here......because someone cares.
__
