Rally Round the Flagpole

Chapter 1
In the Beginning
There is no limit to the greatness of America.
—President George W. Bush
As far back as I can remember, my father raised Old Glory every day at sunrise and lowered her at sunset. He strategically erected the twenty-foot flagpole in our front yard. He surrounded it with a bed of flowering roses, petunias, pansies, or mums. Each was planted in accordance with its season.
As far back as I can remember, my mother dressed my sister and me in red, white, and blue on one special day, and my father put us in the family car, carefully tucking a small American flag in our hand. It was Veterans Day, and we were off to the parade.
The fourth of July followed with fireworks at the beach and patriotic sing-alongs at the boardwalk bandstand. Summer vacations were spent at historic Civil War sites in Gettysburg, Fredericksburg, and Appomattox. My father was from the north, and my mother was from the south. Both were 100 percent American patriots.
My father was a World War II veteran who never spoke of the violence of war. He only spoke of his buddies and entertained us with humorous stories. Before he died, however, the stories and the laughter faded—replaced by tears as he recalled the horror and destruction of war. After his death, my family and I learned of his service medal with four bronze stars.
My father’s legacy includes a grandson who protects and ensures our freedoms in the role of police officer; a granddaughter who, as a nurse, gives tender care to the critically ill; a daughter who teaches her Sunday School class the ideals of freedom; and a daughter who has fanned the flame of freedom in patriotic programs and flag-raising ceremonies in America’s schools, beginning at Arlington Heights.