In April of 1816, Stephen Decatur, U.S. Naval
Commander, put forth this famous toast: "Our
Country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may
she always be in the right, but our country, right or
wrong."
It is a curious remark in conflict with itself. Am I
expected to support my country or support the
principles of liberty and justice that distinguish my
country from many others? And so I ponder if I am a
patriot? What makes a patriot, one who supports their
nation, or the ideals for which their nation was
established by former patriots?
Ms Keogh, my more significant other, and I stopped by
our post office box while on our way home. Every post
office in my country displays the nation's flag,
known affectionately as the Stars and Stripes or Old
Glory or the Star-Spangled Banner. [1] The nation's
flag saturates my society appearing in shop windows,
pasted to the bumpers of cars, sewn on to clothing,
and it flies in front of every Burger King and used
car dealer. This prevalence of flags is not because
we are forgetful and need to be constantly reminded
what country we are in; it is our way of telling each
other that we are all patriots. But on this
particular day I saw no flag proudly waving at the
Langhorne Post Office.
As we drove by, I could see the flag rested at the
base of the staff and was touching the ground. That
wasn't right. The rope must have broken.
I wanted to pick it up, but Ms Keogh was afraid I
might get into trouble. Her concern was that I would
get caught in the act. Perhaps there were hidden
cameras watching the scene. With my liberal
reputation, the Fox News Network would maybe acquire
those tapes and accuse me of committing an act of
defamation on nationwide television. So we checked
the post box and went home. But it haunted me.
On our way home we began debating whether President
Bush is a cunning hypocrite or a simpleton. Ms Keogh
believes the former, that he lies and manipulates for
personal gain, to make himself and his cronies
richer, and that his religiosity is a pose, a con to
draw support from the Christian Right. I, on the
other hand, proposed that President Bush is sincere
in his religious belief, but that he is a
simple-minded, a stooge being manipulated by the
greedy and by Christian ideologues. In either case,
we both perceived President Bush as a demagogue. And
here someone calling themselves a patriot, had they
overheard our conversation, would have denounced me
as a traitor for not supporting the President during
a time of war.
Nevertheless, I could not leave the matter of the
flag alone. I called the post office, but it was
after hours and no one answered. I called the
emergency number that I had noticed posted in the
post office, but I could only reach a recording. It
first said to leave a message and then said, after
many rings, "You have been forwarded to a voice
mail system, however, the person at 9017 does not
subscribe to this service. Good-bye."
I called the Langhorne Police - NOT the 911 number. A
symbol suffering defamation is not an emergency. The
Langhorne Police informed me that the Langhorne Post
Office was not within their jurisdiction. I was
advised to call the Middletown Township Police.
I did. The Middletown Township Police told me it was
not a police matter.
I called the Veterans of Foreign Wars, but their
office was way over in Bristol (8.8 miles) and was
told that was too far to come.
At this point I threw up my arms and sulked. Ms Keogh
said I should call the local paper and see if it was
any easier for them to find someone to take care of
that sad flag. So I called the desk of The
Courier Times, our local rag, but couldn't
get past their taped message to speak to a live
person. I didn't feel like leaving a message, not
being fluent enough to know how to succinctly phrase
the predicament when I hadn't prepared. I also
wondered how very long it might be before anyone
heard the message and deciphered it.
It has been a long time since I've been in Boy
Scouts, but I did remember there was a specific
manner in which you're supposed to fold the flag, so
I went on to the internet a found the instructions.
It takes two. I had Ms Keogh come with me - damn the
secret cameras.
We returned to the post office where the limp flag
was still waiting at the foot of the staff.
"Aren't we supposed to have white cotton
gloves?" asked Ms Keogh. True, I've seen the
military's honor guard wearing them when they buried
my friends, but we didn't have much call for them. Ms
Keogh held one end of the flag, even though she isn't
a citizen. Ms Keogh, British born, remains a subject
of the Queen. We proceeded to fold Old Glory into a
star-covered triangle. When it was complete, neat and
tight, I left it on the table in the post office's
lobby.
In August of 1816, John Quincy Adams, later to become
the sixth President of the United States, declared,
"I can never join with my voice in the toast
which I see in the papers attributed to one of our
gallant naval heroes. I cannot ask of heaven success,
even for my country, in a cause where she should be
in the wrong. Fiat justitia, pereat coelum.
[2] My toast would be, may our country always be
successful, but whether successful or otherwise,
always right."
Bruce Bentzman
Notes:1. There is one exception. In
nearby Philadelphia, where the Second Continental
Congress signed the Declaration of Independence and
launched out nation, there is the B. Free Franklin
Post Office at 318 Market Street, a house formerly
owned by Benjamin Franklin, the Father of the United
States Postal System and it's first Postmaster
General. He was appointed joint Postmaster General
for North America by England in 1753. Franklin
charted the Gulf Stream, solving the mystery of why
postal ships took a week longer to reach the colonies
than they took to reach England. He was again
appointed Postmaster General by the Continental
Congress in 1775. The B. Free Franklin Post Office is
still there today, the only U.S. Post Office that
does not fly Old Glory, because there wasn't a
national flag when it opened in 1775.
2. Trans: "Let justice be done though heaven
perish."
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