I received the following via e-mail and wish to share it with your readers. It is especially appropriate in light of the flag burning shown on TV the last few nights during a demonstration in Portland,.

As you will note, I do not take credit for this myself. The author is unknown to me.

Bonnie Leinweber

Pendleton

I Am the Flag

Author: unknown

I am the flag of the United States of America.

My name is Old Glory.

I fly atop the world’s tallest buildings.

I stand watch in America’s halls of justice.

I fly majestically over institutions of learning.

I stand guard with power in the world.

Look up and see me.

I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.

I stand for freedom.

I am confident.

I am arrogant.

I am proud.

When I am flown with my fellow banners,

my head is a little higher,

my colors a little truer.

I bow to no one!

I am recognized all over the world.

I am worshipped, I am saluted.

I am loved, I am revered.

I am respected, I am feared.

I have fought in every battle

of every war

for more than 200 years.

I was flown at Valley Forge,

Gettysburg, Shiloh, and Appomattox.

I was there at San Juan Hill,

the trenches of France,

in the Argonne Forest,

Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy.

Guam, Okinawa, Korea and

Khesan, Saigon, Vietnam know me.

I was there.

I led my troops.

I was dirty, battleworn and tired,

but my soldiers cheered me and I was proud.

I have been burned, torn and trampled on the

streets of countries I have set free.

It does not hurt, for I am invincible.

I have bee soiled upon, burned, torn and

trampled in the streets of my own country.

And when it’s done by those

whom I’ve served in battle – it hurts.

But I shall overcome – for I am strong.

I have slipped the bonds of Earth

and stood watch over the uncharted

frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.

I have born silent witness to all of America’s finest.

But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages

for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,

when I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,

or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent

at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,

I am proud.