A Matter of Principle

The principle of proper protocol

Buck stopped walking, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead. It was easily 100 degrees this afternoon, but Buck was determined to get his daily exercise in. Sure, he could’ve done it in the early morning when the temperature was still a reasonable 80, but he never cared for walking so early in the morning.

Not now or not any morning.

It was nice now just to stop in the shade, catch his breath, and take in his surroundings. Typical suburb with its fences, cut grass, and flag poles. The fenced-in yard to his right caught his attention.

“Eh, probably just a mistake, that’s all.”

He walked over to the pale yellow house, took off his cap, and rang the doorbell. He didn’t know who would answer or how he would be received, so he took a few steps back and turned a bit sideways

A man in a collared shirt and shorts came to the door.

He opened it and said, “Yes, can I help you?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir, but do you know that your flagpole has the State flag above the American flag? It’s supposed to have the American flags on top.”

The man looked out past the screen door at the flagpole and said, “Really? You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that. I’ll have to change that right away. And here all this time, I thought you could fly them any which way you wanted.”

“Right. I only know it because I was in the Scouts and then in the Air Force. They made a big point of it in the Air Force. No State above the United States.”

“Got it. Man, I feel so, um, unpatriotic now. And all this time too.”

“Eh, don’t let it worry you. Have a great day!”

Buck stepped away from the door and eased down the concrete steps. He saw the formally printed name on the mailbox, Quinton P. Oakley.

“Quinton Oakley,” he thought. “Now, where have I heard that unusual na…”

He winced and smiled all in one, knowing he was able to inform the mayor of his small town of proper American Flag protocol.

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