Red, White and Blue and Never Threadbare

A flag has fluttered outside our house for three or so decades, continuously, save during storms. It often confounds passersby who ask if it signifies a government official's residence.

I know a flag maker who works out of his home in a back street of Makati. It is near where I work, a tolerable walk from the office, but unfortunately I do not remember how to get there. Unlike the flags sold in National Bookstore which fade all too quickly - the reds becoming sickly pinks, the stitching fraying at the edges, and the fabric thinning like a shirt worn too many times - his flags are made to last. For when my family decided to mark our home with a flag, we made a promise that we would never allow it to fly tattered or torn like the flags of government offices.

A wedding ring is worn to show that a person is married, to declare "here is a love worth proclaiming to the world." Similarly, a flag marks our house as the dwelling place of a family married to our country, in love with its people.

If we take care of our wedding ring, and what it stands for, then we take care of our flag. We do not allow it to fly bedraggled, threadbare, or ugly. We discovered that Kultura's flags are better - thicker, richer, sturdier, and able to survive the whip of the wind and the scorching heat of summer. The thickness of the fabric makes for a graceful wave.

Flags are usually espied from afar, from below, and against a blinding sky. The flagpole at home is of a modest height, so this is what I see everyday, through the second floor windows, from my bedroom, when I awake, and as I move about during the day.  A rare sight: the colors of the country, large and near, and at eye level.

As I was leaving for the office, the flag caught my eye. It is still a pleasure to look at; it invigorates - this symbol for which millions have died, there on a flagpole, marking home with grace. /vrp