I’m amazed at the number of people currently searching for ways to slow down time. I’ll stare at the clock for hours begging to catch the government pulling off a secret CIA covert operation that renews the American public every twenty four hour period. No such luck! Each click is still the tick before the tock fully featuring sixty inside each hard to catch clock.
The boomers who learned to microwave food are in hot pursuit to loosen up the load or so I’m told. One slip of the financial industry should’ve knocked us on our seats…yeah, when was the last time you tried to score an early Friday or Saturday night dinner at a restaurant? Movie lines are wrapped around buildings forcing Hollywood to grab the money and run by putting pictures into play during Thursday midnight showings.
The marketing departments of faster cars and drinks at the bar were told ten years ago of a newer horizon to reach, “Generations X and Y will be homebodies.” That hasn’t happened either. Almost every downtown, uptown and center city in America is caked with credit cards and freshly earned dollars to stuff into pockets of American culture.
Is it because lawmakers are begging the masses to climb onto this giant Harley Davidson and kick start it until it roars like the 80’s and 90’s? How hard are the bad times if having a great time doesn’t seem to be interrupted?
Whose dollars are making the loudest holler? Baby Boomers who refuse to leave this giant space rock without a good fight? Tweener’s who remain faceless and voiceless yet carry an identification card that says, “I’m part of the group of people born too late to be a Boomer and too early to be has cool as X-er.” Where is Y and should we be wondering why?
Time is moving too quickly to suddenly see the writing on the wall.
You know what truly slows down the clock a couple of ticks then tocks? It doesn’t matter what corner you’ve pulled up to there’s something totally slow motion about making eye contact with good ole red, white and blue. To fall witness to one being raised at the birth of dawn takes time and turns it into Grandpa’s life all over again. I see my father Joe as he steps onto German soil to fight a war he didn’t start and my adopted father Dr. Ronald Mack sailing back into port after testing atom bombs that rip many things a part. During the heat of summer and the chill of freeze rain, that girl has a way of making everything nice and toasty.
What’s not being twitted and or Face Booked is Flag Day…it’s Sunday…which generation will stop to observe Old Glory? It’s not a government holiday, church will go on as planned and your favorite brunch before lunch probably won’t feature a sign in the door that reads, “We’re closed for 24 hour to observe what other nations see as being the single object that best represents our fifty states.”
The United States flag! When you see her making waves with the wind it can turn any baseball game into a hometown victory. You can walk slowly through downtown with hidden shapes of fear fed by the horrid economy creeping through your worst nightmares and in the corner of your eye you catch a simple shadow tapping on your imagination…looking up it’s the United States flag softly whispering, “I’m no member FDIC but I am 100% made USA.”
Fewer than normal homes physically put up a pole and let her soar with doves, bright red Cardinals and the occasion hawk or owl. Some neighborhoods would like to but can’t because another persons freedom of speech becomes an invasion of ones beliefs. Ouch!
In the woods that make up my hood a nice gentleman every year during the twenty four period recognized as the fourth of July sticks a nice new hearty flag in front of everyone’s house. I’ve never met the man. Would one day like to…just wanna know if he truly loves what I do…all that red, white and blue.
While standing on the ships of Charleston Daddy Joe said to me, “Don’t ever take your eye off the United States flag…it’s the only thing you can trust in the world.” Thirty seconds later he fell to his knees in tears and asked me to drive him home. Some say his war isn’t over. He's always loved those bright stripes and unforgettable fifty stars...maybe its because his day of birth was Flag Day USA.
On this flag day weekend I salute every man, woman, brother, sister, mother, father, uncle, aunt, neighbor and cousin who has taken that United States flag with them to foreign soils and into every corner of our land called America and stood proud in the name of making sure our freedom of speech and way of life are protected daily, hourly and second by second.
I salute the households who display those shades of red, white and blue everyday like my neighbor Herb…and he was born in Canada but he loves the country that adopted him The United States of America. I salute my Master in martial arts Todd Harris who has vowed to never let a student pass green belt unless they know the history and purpose of our U.S. flag.
And I salute you! Somewhere, sometime this weekend you’re going to be jogging, walking, driving, having lunch or dinner and through the great spirit and backbone of every generation be it the Boomers to Tweeners, X’ers and Y’ers…you are going to lift your head to those colors knowing everything you are today is because of the men and women who’ve put their lives on the line to make you better than great.
Put your hand over your heart and give that flag the praise it deserves. It has stood there during the roughest of storms and the calmest nights. No piece of cloth will love you more than that flag. I present to you good ole red, white and blue.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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