Long May It Wave Against Purple Skies

You've seen those giant American flags that fly over big auto dealerships, flags that look bigger than football fields.

When I approach one on these attention hogs on the highway, I find myself wondering about the weight of the fabric, the engineering of the pole, whether for the trip from the flag factory it was rolled or folded. None of the things that went through Francis Scott Key's mind at Fort McHenry in 1814.

But when I see a flag like this in the distance, catching the sun against a purple sky on a Thanksgiving morning, it's a different story.

This was Edgemont Park, Montclair, Thanksgiving morning, 2005.

Even for a mighty nation, a flying flag is most becoming at more or less human scale.

A flag is, in a sense, us--each alone and all together--buffeted, dauntless, though ultimately the underdog against nature and time.

To hear and see a flag snap in the air, tug at its moorings, is to be offered a noble metaphor--one we should keep off steroids.

One more day till the Fourth of July.

Tags: Montclair | Edgemont Park | American flags | Key, Francis Scott