I'm sitting here looking at a symbol of the freedom I've been given by my father, grandfather, great grandfather, great great grandfather and last of all my great great great grandfather. It is red, white and blue. Looking at the sections of white that have weathered the years and spotted itself in a few areas of yellow is somewhat sad, yet those same yellowed spots give me some measure of security. To become aged as it has, requires years of continual standing. Praise God for those spots.

I still remember the day that this symbol was placed on my grandfather's coffin, Oct. 7, 1963. Then during one visit with my grandmother, over Easter weekend many years later, she placed this precious gift in my hands just prior to her death.

"Wilma, this is the flag that covered Wilbur's coffin . I know you will care for it and keep it protected, and that's why I want you to have it before I pass away."

What a tremendous honor she placed in my hand. I'm only the middle child of 5 surviving children. Surely she should give it to the oldest. I can do nothing but look at it with a sense of great responsibility. Oh, my goodness. Am I up to that honor?

This flag is folded in the standard triangle shape. That triangle shape alone reminds me of the many men and women who have committed their lives to aid in the protection of this country and its people.

September 11, 2001 The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center have been flattened by terrorist hijackers commandeering two American Airline and two United Airline planes.

The days that followed, I found myself glued to the television for every piece of news of the plight of the Americans caught unaware in this tragedy. But today September 13th, I will proudly display my allegiance.

I went to the closet, where I've kept a blue trunk, loaded with family heirlooms. Gently opening my treasure of treasures and with a sense of anticipation my probing fingers tenderly work to dislodge it from it's protective white covering. The only items on top of it were two small family members Bibles, and that is as it should be.

As I remove and unfurl this symbol of freedom, I am surprised at the length of it. I have to ask why would that surprise me. Maybe because it stands for more than I am as one person. It almost envelopes me.

I counted the stars, yes there are 50 of them. And there are still seven red stripes and six white stripes. All is well! This flag is to precious to me and to old to put outside to face the elements alone. But I must display my allegiance. Then as only a woman would do, I centered it in the middle of the front bay wall window. I carefully folded the extra length neatly at the base of the floor so that the flag would hang straight and grand. Then again, only as a woman would do, I ran outside to see that it was displayed with the pride due it.

As I stepped away from the house, the American dreams and fortitude proudly bannered it's message for all to see. "THIS IS AMERICA" my land of the free.

When it's my turn to enter heaven's gates, I must remember to look for my grandmother and tell her thank you for handing that symbol of freedom, down to me.

DO NOT COPY

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