This coming Sunday, June 14, is Flag Day, the anniversary of the Flag Resolution of 1777, when the Continental Congress sanctioned a flag for the brand-new United States of America. It was this flag, during the war of 1812, that inspired Francis Scott Key to write the Star-Spangled Banner when our massive flag flew triumphantly atop Baltimore's Fort McHenry after U.S. soldiers withstood a 25-hour bombardment by British warships. 

This poem, as you know, eventually became our national anthem. That flag, now over 200 years old and weathered, is now in a climate-controlled chamber in the Smithsonian Museum. There is just something special about the sight of the stars and stripes, whether it's being carried into battle, shaped over the casket of a fallen soldier, or waved with passion during a hometown parade.

Let's just imagine, as we did in a column of a few years ago, that The Flag is speaking to us today, in this manner: 

My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world's tallest buildings;  I stand watch in America's halls of justice; I fly majestically over institutions of  learning; I stand guard with power in the world;  I stand for peace, honor, truth, and justice; I am recognized all over the world;  I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, and Shiloh. 

I was there at San Juan Hill, in the trenches of France, and on the beaches of Normandy, Guam, and Okinawa, at Iwo Jima, in Korea, Vietnam, and many other parts of the world when our God-given freedom was threatened; I have been burned, torn, and trampled on the streets of countries I helped set free, which doesn't hurt much. But when I am burned, torn, and trampled on the streets of my own country, and by those I have served in battle, that does hurt!  I have slipped the bonds of earth and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.  I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours,  and I'll be there for those finest hours yet to come. 

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the battlefield, when I am flown at half-mast to honor our soldiers who have paid the ultimate price for freedom, or when I lie in the trembling arms of grieving parents at the grave of their fallen son or daughter, I am honored....for my name is Old Glory and I fly PROUDLY over the greatest country on the face of the earth, the United States of America.  God bless America!!

Now, for a little humor:  Many years ago two cowboys came upon a Native American lying on his stomach with his ear to the ground. One of the cowboys stopped and said to the other, "You see that Indian?"  "Yeah," said the other cowboy.  "Look," said the first cowboy, "He's listening to the ground. He can hear things for miles in any direction." 

Just then the Native American looked up and said, "Covered wagon, about two miles away, has two horses, man, woman, child, household effects in the wagon." 

"Incredible," said the cowboy to his friend.  "This Indian knows how far away they are, how many horses there are, who is in the wagon. Remarkable!"

The Native American then looked up weakly and said, "Ran over me about a half-hour ago." 

May this day be one of your best ever!