Echo Beach

          I've been silent for quite some time. Perhaps I've been lazy. Perhaps I've touched on all the items that fire my philosophical nature. It would be sad to think that my well would be so shallow. I would be the first to depreciate myself, to say that I'm shallow and I don't bother to "think". Of course it's not true. My thought process is rather random or chaotic, and because I don't like conflict I don't want to have an opinion about anything, but that shouldn't equate to being shallow.
          The events of September 11, 2001…
          Okay, I brought it up. Like everyone else, I'm taken aback by it. Even here I found I couldn't finish the opening sentence. On line comics have addressed it. Other essay pages addressed it right away. I continued to remain silent, initially because I've been lax with the essays this year, and subsequently because of the enormity of the event.
          There are so many sub topics; Why did it happen? Are we responding appropriately? Are we safe in our own homes? How do we talk to our younger relatives? How has this changed me personally?
          Who am I?
          Flag waving was for the "hawks" of the nation. I considered myself a "dove". I grew up just after the Viet Nam war. The saying of the pledge of allegiance in class ended about sixth grade. The draft ended the year before I came of age. Registration was reinstated just after I became too old to be eligible. There wasn't anything I felt needed a patriotic fervor, so I considered flag waving to be extreme. When Juli brought her grandmother's flag into the house I felt rather sheepish. I felt rather strange having it here.
          On the Fourth of July I bought a bracket to display it on our house. I felt rather patriotic. I guess I got into the spirit of the holiday. Red, White and Blue, picnics, fireworks, family, festivals. Flying the flag felt natural, and it wasn't as if we were going to leave it up forever. It came down that night.
          When Juli came home from work on September 11, I asked her if she wanted to display the flag. I hesitated. It wasn't like me to be so… patriotic? It turned out she was thinking the same thing. So the flag went out. It's still there today. It feels natural.
I have to ask myself… Am I being a hypocrite? Am I still a dove? Was I ever a dove? I certainly still avoid conflict. That's a knee jerk response now. Maybe I'm an Owl. For my fifth grade picnic my mother drew a peace symbol on my sweatshirt and wrote "Owl" underneath. Owls watch. That's the anthropomorphism that humans place on them. They are ever vigilant. They don't seem to get involved unless they are provoked. Yes, maybe I am an owl. There seem to be a lot of owls out there these days. I'm not a hawk, yet I'm not uncomfortable flying a flag either.
          I suppose it's a statement of unity. Like a large storm will bring out the neighborhood to talk to each other, help out and reach out, so has this horrendous event caused the nation to reach out to each other. So, to me, flying a flag means I'm standing together with my neighbors.
          On the myriad of things we may disagree on, that we can address later… or not. Until then we can all fly our flags proudly [i.e. without feeling sheepish].