And the relatives came....

Our young patriots 

from the Potato State!  

Photographed July 7, 2013.

By Cindy Bailey

   The night you finally got here, after your dependable Uncle Bob picked you up at the airport, I was so glad to see your face, and touch you and hug your little skinny bones. And it was like you never left a year and a half ago.

   You and Livi loved my oatmeal cookies, or maybe it was just the baby M & Ms I put in them. And you couldn’t wait to show me your flips and cartwheels, and I smiled but couldn’t help feeling a little afraid for you. 

   And everybody rolled their eyes when we squeezed into Pappy’s old chair and I taught you the Dot Game and you beat me, but only by two. And we drew kidney bean art and no one understood it but us. I sometimes wonder what your dad (my little brother) tells you about his big sister (me). Wait. Don’t tell me. Anyhow I love that you used the kidney bean to make shades for a girl with a long, high pony tail.

   And later in the week on our way back from Chuck E. Cheese, I heard Livi say to herself, “I had so much fun.” And I did, too.

   By Wednesday, Aunt Cindy’s Fun Meter was a little droopy, but then the contingency forces arrived from Brooklyn!  And your grown-up cuz Julie took you on the roller coaster rides, earning the honor of being the fun-est relative in Pennsylvania.  

   It was about this time that I think you were seeing the real me and it disarmed us both that the real me is not as exciting as the boxes of surprises Gramma and I send to Idaho in the mail.

   But I saw glimpses of the real you, too, and I think it occurred to us both that maybe we weren’t who we thought the other one was (or something like that), because people can’t be put in a box. So we started to drive each other a little crazy. 

   You missed your dog. And Ned my cat certainly missed his solitude. Me and Grammie’s houses had become hazardous to anyone who tried to walk through them. And I could tell you when were thinking about stuff like your tumbling class and your  polka-dotted in your bedroom.

   But by the time the birthday picnic arrived, we had all gotten our sea legs back from riding the waves of emotions swirling around us, and then Annie called us from Poland on the FaceTime thing because she knew we’d all be together. She was at a playground with some of her students; I know she was wishing that two of those kids were you and Liv. 

   And I’m pretty sure you were thinking you might want to be like Julie and Annie one day. And you will.

   You look so much like your mom, but I’m picking out some stuff from the Pennsylvania side of the family, too – your interests in books and reading and music, and writing stuff down.

   I’m glad you have a little sister/shadow who watches all you do with those wide blue eyes. And I think that will help you, always wanting to do things to make her proud because you know she looks up to you. I love it when you call her “bubba” - something she will one day be mortified over!

   By Saturday, Julie introduced us to the wonders of Snapchat, and we were sending our ugly mugs all over the place, and blackening the teeth of people in your teen magazine, and you and I thought we were so funny.

   And boy, did we eat. We not only ate, we snarfed whatever was nearby – all sorts of fun, bad delectables that people eat at reunions and parties – pies and creamy desserts and greasy meats and white bread, and most of us had stomach aches off and on and by Sunday we were sluggish and glassy-eyed. But it wasn’t just the food; it was that you were all leaving us old folk and taking the excitement with you on that plane back to the Potato State.

   And the two of you put up with the patriotic outfits, swimsuits, and T-shirts I forced on you at the last minute for photos. But you really were in your element, quite comfortable with your graceful, photogenic self, but by the time the photo shooting was over, Livi was ready to shoot me.

   And thinking on it all now is bittersweet, but this is the only time I’ll  indulge myself in the bitter part. Mostly, I’ll try not to think that when you return you will be in the double digits, and I’ll be missing most of what’s important in your life. 

    But we had a good time, didn’t we? And it really perked Grammie up to see you all. And not to worry, dependable Uncle Bob is here to pick up the pieces of what’s left of Aunt Cindy now that this house seems like a cold, dark cave since you and Livi are gone. He always puts the toys away in the basement so I won’t cry when I come home. 

  Guess I’d better put all these reflections in their rightful place, too, and press on to the day when I’ll be seeing you again. Because there are worse things in life than temporary good-byes. But that seems really hollow now that I see it written down.

Why flag etiquette still matters

   As you may already know, I am the Editor/Publisher of a monthly newspaper named GreeneSpeak, owned by my husband Bob and I in Waynesburg, Greene County, Pa. I often write on patriotic topics, especially in May, June, July, and November and thought Cindy's Wind readers might appreciate this editorial from the June 2013 edition in the column we call "The WET HEN."

   In the rural area my newspaper serves, it is not unusual to see elected officials work hard to put a lid on Free Speech and Free Press, especially in regard to a pithy publication like GreeneSpeak. Most of the municipalities I cover have rarely if ever been written about in any newspaper before, and let's just say I'm not usually too welcome.

   But having experienced the ridicule and disdain of some of these folks has continually reminded me of the debt I owe our military people and their families, both past and present, for helping to preserve our liberties and promote our ideals elsewhere in the world. Thus follows my piece on why the American flag still deserves care and respect.

   On our June cover, we featured a photo of the Waynesburg American Legion's Flag Day ceremony in which a uniformed, white-gloved veteran properly retires a worn flag by burning it as spelled out in the U.S. Flag Code. It's surprising how many people do not realize that this type of ceremony is held annually or why.

   And, we admit, even at this patriotic time of year, that some portions of the U. S. Flag Code may be a little overzealous, such as prohibiting people from wearing flag images on clothing and forbidding it to be used for “advertising” purposes.

   The world is a different place from when the code was drafted shortly after WWI in 1923 by the National Americanism Commission of the American Legion, a group of 68 organizations, each of which surely had their own agendas for restricting the use and display of the flag that belongs to all of us.

   Not surprisingly, the code became law in 1942 in the midst of the atrocities of World War II. And so it remained for a generation. But the times, they do change, and in 1989 the Supreme Court ruled that burning it in protest was Free Speech, and eliminating any penalty for violating the Flag Code. How you treat our flag now is a matter of etiquette, which, in this case, really does matter to millions.

   Notwithstanding variations in interpreting the code, YOU know whether or not you are intentionally disrespecting it, which in our view includes burning it in protest, or even by allowing it to fly tattered and torn or using a real flag in silly ways, such as a beach towel or tablecloth, for example. You may not have a legal reason for respecting the flag, but there certainly is a moral impetus for it. 

   Common Sense often runs amok in the Land of the Free, so GreeneSpeak takes this opportunity at this time of the year, as this point in American history, to ask conscientious citizens, if you would never so much as pick your nose in public for fear of offending someone, then why would you heartlessly desecrate our nation’s symbol that means so much to so many?

   Whether or not you believe in the Bible, a wise guideline in Corinthians says if you do something that is not necessarily “wrong,” but which drags a weaker brother or sister down, then you should really avoid doing it, especially in their presence. Not bad advice, for such an old book. GreeneSpeak holds that this principle should also be applied to our flag. Here’s why we believe FLAG ETIQUETTE STILL MATTERS:

   Because of the Fort McHenry flag that “was still there.”

   Because of the flag forced into the rubble by five Marines at Iwo Jima. And at Ground Zero.

   And those small patches on the uniforms of U.S. soldiers, signifying hope and liberty to the world.

   And because of the ones rippling in the breeze at cemeteries large and small, identifying even the oldest veterans’ graves where the names have been obliterated by time–flags lovingly placed there by octogenarian veterans as well as young Boy Scouts who remembered. 

   But especially because of the most melancholy flags of all, the ones covering those returning home who died in service to our country–the same flags, carefully folded, ceremoniously presented, and desperately embraced by mothers and surviving loved ones as a final symbol of their sacrifice.  

   This editorial is dedicated to the memory of Covert Morris, uncle of the Editor/Publisher Cindy Bailey. "Covie" died at Normandy on D Day, June 6, 1944, and his mother, the publisher’s grandmother, lived another four decades holding that flag to her heart. Fortunately, she did not live to see the 1989 Supreme Court decision on flag burning. See Covert’s story at www.memorymedallion.com.