We were driving somewhere a few weeks ago and I noticed all the flags were at half-mast. I asked the Chief Lou about it because he works for the U.S. government, you see, and he should know about such things. They probably sent it to him in a memo.
"I don't know," he said. [This is where your tax dollars go, my American friends. They help feed my family and they are not wasted on memos explaining half-masted flags.]
I may be a socialist, but I know that when the flags are flown at half-mast, someone of national importance has died. I know it wasn't a former president, because the Chief Lou gets the day off to attend their funerals. So I wrack my brains trying to remember who has died recently.
"It is because of Phyllis Diller?" I ask.
"Um, yes. It's because of Phyllis Diller," says the Chief Lou, "Pretty much everything is because of Phyllis Diller." [I think he maybe is being sarcastic, but you never know with him. He's got an awesome deadpan and he's also a bit of a closet conspiracy theorist.]
"Oh wait! It's because of the astronaut guy!" I suddenly remember. "That makes more sense."
"The 'astronaut guy'?! Would that 'astronaut guy' be Neil Armstrong? The first man to walk on the moon?" [Obviously, his conspiracy theories do not include the one that posits the moon landing was a complete cock-up. He's not a complete nut-bag.]
I try to explain that I said "astronaut guy" because whenever I go to say Neil Armstrong's name, I am gripped by this rapid succession of doubts: Is it Neil Armstrong? Not Lance Armstrong? No. That's the bike guy. Neil Diamond? No? Why not? I even accentuated my argument with my best Neil Diamond impersonation, singing this song. I think it's perfectly understandable how all that could get garbled up in my melon, what with the patriotism and stuff.
I noticed today that the flags are at half-mast again. This time even I know why. I don't have much to say about it except this:
If we are going to remember, let's remember how for a few fleeting days we forgot that we were Democrats and Republicans, we forgot that we were men or women, gay or straight, light or dark, rich or poor, Neil Armstrong or Neil Diamond, and we stopped and mourned together. We watched horrified and dumbstruck, heartbroken and scared. For a few hours we forgot our differences and even if we sustained no personal loss, we stepped into the shoes of those who did. We understood what it was like to be a friend, a parent, a spouse, a lover, an employee, a boss, a child, a person and the terror of not knowing if your loved ones are all right. We held hands and we cried with strangers; we hugged our families and reached out to our neighbors. For a few short days, we were united. Will it take another national tragedy for us to do that again? Don't we still want to know that our loved ones are all right? Don't we still understand that other people have loved ones that need to be all right, too?
"I don't know," he said. [This is where your tax dollars go, my American friends. They help feed my family and they are not wasted on memos explaining half-masted flags.]
I may be a socialist, but I know that when the flags are flown at half-mast, someone of national importance has died. I know it wasn't a former president, because the Chief Lou gets the day off to attend their funerals. So I wrack my brains trying to remember who has died recently.
"It is because of Phyllis Diller?" I ask.
"Um, yes. It's because of Phyllis Diller," says the Chief Lou, "Pretty much everything is because of Phyllis Diller." [I think he maybe is being sarcastic, but you never know with him. He's got an awesome deadpan and he's also a bit of a closet conspiracy theorist.]
"Oh wait! It's because of the astronaut guy!" I suddenly remember. "That makes more sense."
"The 'astronaut guy'?! Would that 'astronaut guy' be Neil Armstrong? The first man to walk on the moon?" [Obviously, his conspiracy theories do not include the one that posits the moon landing was a complete cock-up. He's not a complete nut-bag.]
I try to explain that I said "astronaut guy" because whenever I go to say Neil Armstrong's name, I am gripped by this rapid succession of doubts: Is it Neil Armstrong? Not Lance Armstrong? No. That's the bike guy. Neil Diamond? No? Why not? I even accentuated my argument with my best Neil Diamond impersonation, singing this song. I think it's perfectly understandable how all that could get garbled up in my melon, what with the patriotism and stuff.
I noticed today that the flags are at half-mast again. This time even I know why. I don't have much to say about it except this:
If we are going to remember, let's remember how for a few fleeting days we forgot that we were Democrats and Republicans, we forgot that we were men or women, gay or straight, light or dark, rich or poor, Neil Armstrong or Neil Diamond, and we stopped and mourned together. We watched horrified and dumbstruck, heartbroken and scared. For a few hours we forgot our differences and even if we sustained no personal loss, we stepped into the shoes of those who did. We understood what it was like to be a friend, a parent, a spouse, a lover, an employee, a boss, a child, a person and the terror of not knowing if your loved ones are all right. We held hands and we cried with strangers; we hugged our families and reached out to our neighbors. For a few short days, we were united. Will it take another national tragedy for us to do that again? Don't we still want to know that our loved ones are all right? Don't we still understand that other people have loved ones that need to be all right, too?
