Say, can you see?
A 4th of July essay + the record of the week
The American flag hasn’t gone through any changes in my lifetime. There have been 27 alterations since its inception in 1777, but none since I’ve walked the earth. That means the flag that flew outside the fire station near my childhood home is the same one that sat above the classroom door that I faced each morning to piously pledge allegiance. And the flag from the ’69 moon landing, which I was not yet born to witness, is the same one Rage Against the Machine set fire to on Saturday Night Live in 1996, which I witnessed via a television I was not supposed to be watching.
Despite the fact that the flag itself hasn’t changed, my perception of it has. While it wasn’t always this way, when I encounter the flag out in the wild, my first thought in regard to the person wearing it or the house that’s flying it is usually, “that guy’s on the other team.”
The absurdity is that I don’t even have a team. Like many, I am of the belief that neither team represents me. It’s all a dumpster fire. But if I’m to assess my own baseline values, there is a feeling that billows up in me that the guy with the American flag tank top at the gas station doesn’t agree with me.
Is that a fair generalization? No, as most generalizations are not. But I’m shining a light on what is essentially my internal response to the rebranding of the American flag. Because that’s what it is. Like when we decided brussels sprouts were all of a sudden super tasty. Or that Pabst beer is for cyclists and hip people, rather than your grandpa.
It wasn’t always this way. I was living in New York on 9/11, and throughout all of 2002, those flags were everywhere. They were a symbol of unification. And sure, I was an overly confident and annoying teenager who questioned most things and rebelled against many more, so I do recall challenging the patriotism when it started to grow volatile. But I understood the importance of the unity, the mourning, and the comfort that the flag brought to people during that time.
The problem, in my opinion, is that the flag was always up for grabs. I feel like I saw the writing on the walls as a kid.
My dad was always a fairly organized person, but our garage was a jungle of chaos. One afternoon, I went digging in the mess and found an American flag, folded and tucked away neatly on a shelf among power tools and Christmas decorations. I unfolded it and draped it over my shoulders, running around our driveway like an Olympic athlete. When I was done, I shoved it in the corner with my hockey equipment. I didn’t realize my dad was watching.
“Hey! What are you doing?” There was a sense of emergency to his tone.
“You never, ever treat the flag like that. You always fold it, and you never, under any circumstances, let it touch the ground.”
As any kid would, I came in with the obligatory, “but why?”
“Because brave men and women fought hard to defend that flag and what it stands for, so we have to treat it with respect.”
I knew the rules about taking our hats off during the Star Spangled banner, so I understood the message, but this seemed over the top. It didn’t add up.
“So, why do we put it on underwear and stuff?”
(For context, I owned a pair of American flag boxers)
My dad sort of chuckled. There’s no response for that. What’s he gonna say? “Well, son, if you’re using it to make a profit, then you can put it on anything. Because at the end of the day, we’re a democracy first, but a capitalist nation second.”
In my lifetime, the flag has not only stood as the untouchable, deified symbol of freedom that soldiers give their lives to defend, but rather it has made exceptions to make appearances in places that it deems American. I felt immense reverence as the flag flew above my Uncle Jimmy as he was sworn into the U.S. Navy. The crisp white uniforms. The San Diego heat beating down on him as he stood stoic and unflinching. The flag was also there when my dad brought me to my first boxing match, but this time, it appeared in the form of a shiny, elastic bathing suit on the spray tanned woman holding up the “ROUND 3” sign as she walked the ring in heels.
I want to rewire my associations, or rather, I want the country that I call home to course correct so that I don’t have to. I want this holiday to mean more than Budweiser and explosives. I want to be proud to be from this country, the way I am when I tell people I was born and raised in New York. I won’t say that I wish to go back to some golden era, because there is no chapter of this country’s history that feels safe to return to. My hope is that I live to see the other side of this hellish era, and on that other side, the flag belongs to all of us again.
THE RECORD CLUB
Last week’s selection was Idles - TANGK (2024)
You can find my ramblings on last week’s record in the comment section below.
This week’s selection is…
Week #7 Zach Bryan - The Great American Bar Scene (2024)
RECORD CLUB THREAD
Idles - TANGK (2024)
This record is the perfect example as to why I'm glad my friend, Sean, and I started this little record club. I have been a fan of Idles since "Brutalism," but I can't say any record they've put out since that one has hit me as hard as that record. On the first listen to TANGK, I felt some familiar disappointment that the sounds and energy of "Brutalism" were still no where to be found. Upon the second listen, a few tracks started to shine and I thought, "alright there's still some good stuff here." By mid week, I fully embraced that this record is on a deeper poetic level, pulses at a slower tempo than previous records, and absolutely rips. Oddly enough, the song that had me dismissing this record on day one (the single featuring LCD Soundsystem) became one of my favorites. And my second favorite is probably "POP POP POP" which is entirely built upon a drum loop that does not waver or change in anyway throughout the entirety of the song -- the furthest thing from the dynamic shifts of "Brutalism." It's for these listening experiences that I'm thankful to do this little ritual, and to rally against my waning attention span.
Great fucking record.
New to IDLES. With no thought about what to expect I got very hooked on this album after a couple of listens. Gift Horse, Roy, Dancer all crush.
Tying into your post, if Joe Talbot’s feeling about the King in Gift Horse is any indication, I don’t think Joe cares too much about flags hitting the ground. That outro/bridge about the King is my favorite moment on an album that has a lot of cool moments.