My Tattered Flag

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Monday July 25, 2016 · 7:53 PM PDT

2016/07/25 · 19:53

My flag is tattered.

It is the flag my Grandfather was proud to give me, now in my care. I have flown it with pride, but now its threads are weak and its stripes are separating. It flaps and flaps and comes apart as I watch. It is a great flag, but will not remain so without considerable attention.

The wind is tearing it apart. Sometimes so gentle it is imperceptible, sometimes fierce in a storm, but there is always wind. The wind never stops. It may blow East, it may blow West, it may blow from any direction. My flag must adapt, shifting direction and rising up to accommodate the strongest of winds. But it cannot withstand the buffeting indefinitely without care.

At times the stripes war against themselves, smashing each other with the energy of divisive gusts. The flag must be taken down and repaired, lest it become a mass of untethered stripes and missing threads. Left in this condition, it will not last long against the strengthening wind, and I fear a heavy gale is coming.

My flag has been repaired many times before by those who came before. I now hold the thread. As do you. And you. And you. For it is not only my flag, but yours as well.

Will we watch as it comes apart, or use the needle to make it whole again with the thread we hold?

Dad

JRFredlund

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Friday October 11, 2013 · 11:54 AM PDT

2013/10/11 · 11:54

It is not possible to capture a lifetime in words. But I will provide a few regarding things I want to remember about Keith, my Dad.

He was always strong. Both mentally and physically. When he set his mind to doing something, it would get done. There is a very nice window in the boathouse at Keuka Lake in the center of a cement block wall. You can glance up to look out toward Hammondsport while you wash the dishes. Dad cut through that wall with his circular saw and a number of masonry blades. Dust went everywhere as he inched the blades first through one side and then the other, since the blades did not cut deep enough to get all the way through. Then he put in a very nice window with an extended sill for passing things back and forth. Most of us would not even have considered this, opting instead for hanging a picture over the sink. But Dad went ahead regardless of the half inch of cement dust he wore by the time he finally finished.

JRFredlund

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Tuesday May 07, 2013 · 6:34 PM PDT

2013/05/07 · 18:34

That's what I was told at the one-on-one meeting with my boss. I joined a new club first thing in the morning on my 59th birthday. The club has many members. And each of them has had a similar meeting. But they have been told many different things.

"Impacted?" I was confused. Does that mean that some mass has hit me at a high rate of speed? I didn't feel it. Or is it more like a tooth, where one becomes impacted upon failing to emerge properly, resulting in twisting, tilting or displacement? That sounds more like what happened. I'd also note that the teeth most likely to be impacted are the wisdom teeth, and judging by those left behind, the term seems quite appropriate.

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My Tattered Flag

Dad

"You have been impacted"