Flags of their Fathers

Just got a package from a beloved (naaaks!) friend from North Carolina today. Interestingly, the package, which was sent via air mail, still took more than a month to reach the Philippines.

Hmmm… maybe they used one of those old-fangled propeller planes for this particular delivery? 🙂

Anyhoo, the package’s arrival heralded a mini-retrospection of sorts.

Knowing that it contained a particular gift that I had expressly requested from said friend, having the actual package in my hands got me thinking… why did i request this gift in the first place?

Granted that the act of requesting the gift and the actual delivery of the gift are already several years apart, i felt i still had to answer that question, and many others, besides.

But first things first. In case you’re intrigued with what kind of gift it was exactly…

I had asked for a CONFEDERATE FLAG.

Yup. That Flag.

You know… the flag that many perceive as being symbolic of Prejudice… of Racism… of Slavery? The flag that never fails to agitate civil rights activists worldwide?

This Flag.

So why did i ask for it? Did i really (and if so, do i still) subscribe to what this flag stands for? And was the irony that is so obvious to me now not apparent then?

It could be that there is something very wrong with this picture.

Then again, mebbe not. 😐

After all, different things have different meanings to different people.

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Flags of their Fathers

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