When I was in Iraq, I bought two American flags and had them flown in F-16s on actual missions. The first flag I gave to my parents, who are building a flag box to put it on display. The second I gave to my paternal grandparents.
My grandparents live in a rural area about 15 miles northwest of Evansville, Indiana. Their house is out in the woods, and looks like something out of a magazine. There's a deck that extends half-way around the house overlooking the pond, and a quaint courtyard with a gazebo. This house is the setting for so many great childhood memories for me.
When they got the flag, my Grandpa, a Captain in the US Army Air Corps in WWII, retrieved his old flagpole, which for years had sat rusted in a storage shed beneath the garage, sanded it down and repainted it. (He's totally a do-it-yourself kinda guy.) He sank the flagpole at the end of the driveway, and even installed proper lighting so it would be illuminated at night. My Dad took this picture the other day and sent it to me. Seriously brought a tear to my eye.
1 comment:
That is very cool.
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