I am as patriotic as anyone else I know, albeit a little less vocal about it. Old Glory brings my hand over my heart, the anthem can bring tears to my eyes, but I won’t fly the flag in my yard. I did after September 11th, and I do on certain holidays, but they are not real flags, just the little ones on pegs that you kinda stick into the ground. For much of my youth we hung yellow ribbons on the trees in our yard, but not the flag. Those old enough to fight in WWII tried, but they had flat feet, were color blind, and otherwise turned away. None of them learned how to properly handle the American Flag, and on both sides of the family, they believed that mishandling it was bordering on treason. We have the right to burn it, but not fold it wrong. That’s how I was raised. Those that did serve, served in Vietnam, which was a monster of a mess when they all got home. They fly the flag, but those that saw the shells that came home could never bring themselves to ask how it was done properly. So we never did.
I love my country, for what it was, what it kinda still is, and what it could be again. I am patriotic to my bones. I cannot stand what I am seeing it go through. My country is always suffering, but the government ignores the cries. That is where there is a disconnect for me, and, I believe, many of my fellow country men
Cyranny's Cove 
Not really. I am happy to be Canadian but I’m not really patriotic.
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Semi..I am Proud To Be An American.
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Yes, I’m patriotic. I love my country.
It’s my government that I detest.
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I am as patriotic as anyone else I know, albeit a little less vocal about it. Old Glory brings my hand over my heart, the anthem can bring tears to my eyes, but I won’t fly the flag in my yard. I did after September 11th, and I do on certain holidays, but they are not real flags, just the little ones on pegs that you kinda stick into the ground. For much of my youth we hung yellow ribbons on the trees in our yard, but not the flag. Those old enough to fight in WWII tried, but they had flat feet, were color blind, and otherwise turned away. None of them learned how to properly handle the American Flag, and on both sides of the family, they believed that mishandling it was bordering on treason. We have the right to burn it, but not fold it wrong. That’s how I was raised. Those that did serve, served in Vietnam, which was a monster of a mess when they all got home. They fly the flag, but those that saw the shells that came home could never bring themselves to ask how it was done properly. So we never did.
I love my country, for what it was, what it kinda still is, and what it could be again. I am patriotic to my bones. I cannot stand what I am seeing it go through. My country is always suffering, but the government ignores the cries. That is where there is a disconnect for me, and, I believe, many of my fellow country men
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