But your flag decal won’t get you into Heaven anymore
They’re already overcrowded from your dirty little war
Now Jesus don’t like killin’, no matter what the reasons for
And your flag decal won’t get you into Heaven anymore…
— John Prine, “Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You into Heaven Anymore”, 1971.
I recall hearing John Prine’s humorous take on the flag decal epidemic that afflicted America near the end of the Vietnam War, because my parents owned the album and played the song on regular occasions. To buoy their spirits, I suppose, during a difficult period of America’s history.
Admittedly, I was a bit confused by the contrast between my parent’s attitude, and the attitude of our next door neighbor, who did indeed have multiple flag decals on his pickup truck, along with a ‘Jesus is my copilot’ bumper sticker.
These memories come to mind, because I’m writing about Flag Day, an annual celebration that takes place on June 14.
I noted a brief reference to the Town’s ‘Pride Month’ proclamation in Mr. Hudson’s Daily Post editorial yesterday, and the photo showing the Town Council, and local supporters of the proclamation, smiling for the camera while holding tiny Pride flags.
Tomorrow, June 14, is indeed Flag Day, according to my computer’s calendar app, and apparently it has been celebrated for over 100 years. But I don’t recall ever celebrating Flag Day, myself.
Is it something people actually commemorate?
Not so, according to a 2011 article in The New York Times, by Adam Goodheart:
[Flag Day] was destined, eventually, to become the runty stepchild among American national holidays. One hundred and fifty years after its original creation, no one ever hosts a Flag Day cookout or sends a Flag Day greeting card. Nobody gets to take a long weekend away from the office. Even the most customer-hungry car dealers don’t advertise Flag Day sales.
If my brief research into the history is accurate, Flag Day is all about the ‘American Flag’.
But it seems to me that flags of all types have become a lot more popular these days.
Trump flags… and Pride flags… and Mexican flags… and more…
During the Revolutionary War, the American flag was a piece of military equipment, used to identify troop formations and naval vessels. Flagmakers like Betsy Ross — who was by no means the only woman sewing flags in Revolutionary Philadelphia — thought of themselves as suppliers of military goods.
It wasn’t until the beginning of the American Civil War that people began to view the flag as a more general symbol of patriotism and sacrifice.
Apparently, Flag Day wasn’t even possible until the 1860s, when textile manufacturers in New England developed the technology to print the stars and stripes onto white cloth, instead of hiring underpaid women and children to sew on all those bothersome little cloth stars. (There were 34 stars to fuss with in 1861. That means 68 annoying little stars, when you include both sides of the flag.)
Obviously, the New England manufacturers needed to find a market for all these mass produced flags, and the Civil War came along just in the nick of time.
And just in time for journalist John Greenleaf Whittier to write his famous poem about Barbara Fritchie, of Frederick, Maryland, who challenged Stonewall Jackson and his troops to murder her while she waved a Union Flag.
…Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced; the old flag met his sight.
‘Halt!’ – the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
‘Fire!’ – out blazed the rifle-blast.
It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf.
She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
‘Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country’s flag,’ she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman’s deed and word;
‘Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!’ he said…
It seems, however, that this event never actually happened. Poetic license, they call it. But neither Ms. Fritchie nor Stonewall Jackson lived to see the poem published in 1863, so no harm, no foul.
Most of the things I write about here in the Daily Post likewise never happened, but that doesn’t stop me. Nor should it.
But this piece of information seems to be authentic:
The first formal celebration of ‘Flag Day’ took place at Stony Hill School, in Waubeka, Wisconsin, in 1885, at the instigation of grade school teacher Bernard J. Cigrand. Mr. Cigrand later became president of the National Flag Day Society, which allowed him to promote the idea of a national celebration.
Mr. Cigrand generally is credited with being the “Father of Flag Day,” with the Chicago Tribune noting that he “almost singlehandedly” established the holiday.
In 1916, after 30 years of advocacy by the Society, President Woodrow Wilson declared June 14 to be Flag Day. This was again useful timing for a patriotic revitalization, because the U.S. was about to enter the disaster known as World War I.
Flags are useful when you’re entering an unfamiliar and possibly dangerous situation. To let people know who you are. And what you believe in.
Or to brighten up an otherwise colorless photograph.
My point being, Flag Day could be celebrated as a day to commemorate flags of all stripes. If we were so inclined.
If we even noticed that Flag Day was happening.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all. You can read more stories on his Substack account.