I remain amazed at the typically hostile reaction I receive to the flag t-shirt purchased from Costco several years ago. For example, few people will acknowledge or respond if I greet them when walking while wearing the tee, which differs from the cordiality that is otherwise common enough. But yesterday, one man yelled as we passed: “Happy Birthday!” Thank you.
Today, the United States of America turned 250, a remarkable feat for a Constitutional Republic. But, in San Diego, you wouldn’t know that it’s not just a holiday but the Semiquincentennial celebration. Mid-morning, I walked from Upas Street in North Park along 30th to Meade Ave and to our apartment in University Heights. Every business was open. Even the barbershops. I also counted only five American flags, two at businesses. That’s it!
At the least, shouldn’t some communities line the streets with flags, banners, something? But there was nothing. It’s less than a normal Fourth of July! What the hell? It’s like a boycott, almost. You know of whom, right?
One of my sisters spends summers in liberal Vermont, where one Senator is a Socialist. She could see five flags looking out her window. among many, many more. Most businesses were closed for the holiday, she said. If Vermont is as Deep Blue politically as Southern California, what’s the difference?
While there is reasonably a plethora of explanations, I will focus on one: Indifference, which I chock up in part as the consequence of the state adopting mail-in ballots. California has reduced voting to a transaction, not so dissimilar in its simplest state to writing a check to most complicated as the balancing of a checkbook.
There is nothing participatory about voting in California. The process strips away emotion and any sense of investment. To such citizenry, why would the country’s 250th birthday be anything more than any other Saturday?
Granted, the people who object to Donald Trump are quite emotional, and I feel their disdain, even anger, when wearing the aforementioned flag t-shirt. I have a red version, worn today. Whoa, what reaction. During the more than 3 km walk (about 2 miles), no one would make eye contact. My t-shirt wasn’t a source of pride but a symbol of shame and disdain.
Actually, when I got to my street, one man made eye contact and responded, with friendly tone. Make what you will of this: He was black, and his accent suggested from somewhere in Africa. So, the one presumed immigrant was the only person passed today who wasn’t seemingly put off by my t-shirt.
Happy Birthday, America. Somebody loves you.
For flags, I dug into the past. I shot the Featured Image on April 7, 2007, nearby the Washington Monument in our nation’s capital. Vitals: f/7.1, ISO 125, 1/500 sec. 135mm; 11:49 a.m. EST; Canon EOS 20D and EF 135mm f/2 USM lens