The Herald Democrat
50 Years Ago
What Do You See
in the Flag?
July 2, 1971
The Flag is the heart of the holiday coming up this weekend. Some people see it as a period of time when picnicking and family gatherings are in order; a time to visit towns where there are celebrations; always firework displays to be witnessed.
A time to dash off for a long trip, especially with the Climax two weeks’ vacation granted employees this year; a time for relaxing at home if being on the road on three-day weekends scares you.
Regardless of what the Fourth of July means in activity, it should mean reverence and respect to the Flag, the symbol which should be valued most by Americans.
FREEDOM THAT IS TAKEN FOR GRANTED WILL BE TAKEN AWAY
Dr. E. P. Evans, member of the Loveland Post of the VFW, penned a poem in 1963. A few verses are quoted here:
What do you see in the Flag, my friend? What do you see in the Flag?
Does it recall sadness of heart, as they mounted it there on the crag?
Or does it bring back the glorious days of which you still want to brag?
What do you see, Soldier Boy, days of battle and sleepless nights when life was a terrible drag,
And all that kept you going was the home folks and the Flag?
Soldier Boy, is that all you see in the Flag?
Well there’s more, much more, than you all have seen in the old Red, White and Blue;
You should see the glorious battle when Old Glory flew from the mast;
You should see sweat and dust when our troops held true and fast;
You should see all the glorious history that links our times to the past.
You should see a way of life when Old Glory flies on high;
It holds a promise for you and me that reaches to the sky.
Tyrants may come and tyrants may go and many, many may die,
But I will wager you this my friends: Old Glory will never die!!
A “glorious Fourth” as experienced by two members of the famed Sixth Street fightin’ Irish quite a few years ago:
The two, whom we shall call Pat and Mike to preserve their anonymity, went downtown shopping for skyrockets and fireworks “for the kids.” Naturally, such a task called for several stops in the downtown “watering” places.
As they made their way up East Sixth Street at dusk, their arms loaded with fireworks, the two got into a heated argument — not uncommon in those days. Mike got on the other side of the street as a result of the verbal battle. Then a little devil went to work in his mind.
Mike tossed a lighted fuse into the armload of fireworks being carried by Pat. Soon skyrockets were bursting in all directions, and lo and behold if they didn’t set one of the prominent citizen’s homes on fire.
Somebody called the police and somebody called the fire station. Pat and Mike thought all the activity was great fun until they got hauled to the police station to spend the rest of the glorious Fourth “in the jug.”
The next morning following their release the boys received stern lectures. Never again were they to fraternize with one another.
Mike had two cherry bombs left in his pocket. Since there must be a parting of the ways, he felt there should be a little emphasis on the matter. So Mike meandered down to the home of Pat, who was sleeping soundly after their lecture. Yes, you guessed it — he came suddenly awake thanks to two cherry bombs.
The Sixth Street feud began all over again, with this time the two fathers mixing it up.
A tourist down in the San Luis Valley stopped at a service station and asked, “Where is the Shotgun Road to Sausage?” He meant the gun barrel to Saguache.
To grow healthy, vigorous grass, all you need is a crack in the sidewalk.