A Patriot's Day Story

Monday was Patriot's day, which in Boston, is a big deal — and in Lexington (home of the 'Shot Heard 'Round the World') is an even bigger deal. Having grown up in Lexington, I like to stop by on major holidays and see how the action (and the fried dough) is. This year, Raegan and I made it out for the afternoon parade. There was a strong military presence, something I didn't remember there being so much of in the past, with marchers and bands from the Army, Navy, Air Force, and National Guard. Not to mention a bunch of vintage military vehicles.

Jokingly, I turned to Raegan:
"I wonder how long it'll be before Nance drives by."

I've always known our next-door neighbor, Nancy B. to be a big Macher (מאַכער) in Lexington, though I was never quite sure what she did.

And as soon as I spoke the words, there she was, at the wheel of a Pontiac convertible, waving like Miss America and handing out miniature flags. You know the kind: tiny dowels with the flag part stapled on (btw: isn't that illegal, stapling the flag?).

"I gotta catch up to her. She'll get a big kick out of it. It'll be hilarious."

Or so I thought. In hindsight, I realize I miscalculated. I forgot to factor in the fact that this day was Nancy's one shining moment in an otherwise paradeless year and that having me, an Impeachment-Bearded freak, walk up to her car and address her as though we actually knew each other, would not only pull focus from her as driver-of-a-vehicle-in-the-parade, but may actually jeopardize her position in the town, whatever that position might be.

Nevertheless, a brisk walk and I was beside the car.

"Hi Nance," I said. "How you doing? How's about a flag?"
"They're for the kids." She said without a moment's hesitation.

I glanced in the back seat. They had literally thousands of flags, rolled-up, packed in boxes marked MADE IN CHINA.


"Well, how bout for a patriotic adult, then?"
"Where's your Red, White, and Blue?"

The funny thing is, I was wearing Red, White, and Blue. All three, in fact.

"You're joking, right? Let me have one for Raegan."
"Nope."
"Well, then, how about a flag for your neighbor who you've lived next-door to for the last thirty or so years and who you've helped raise-up yourself from the tender age of three, causing your own begotten son to become so enamored of our faith that he married into it, meaning all of your grandchildren will forevermore be Jews?"
She thought about it for a moment.
"Sorry, no can do."

I walked away, defeated and flagless, feeling I had lost the love of a neighbor: a neighbor who in times past felt close enough to us to stop by, unannounced, with a pie or a potato salad and sit in our kitchen, gossipping at long length to my patient mother on the topic of things mom probably couldn't have cared less about.

I wondered if maybe there wasn't a law that says if you're handing out thousands of cheap U.S. flags in a Patriot's Day parade in Lexington, MA (birthplace of American liberty) and a fellow American comes up and asks for one, that you are obligated to oblige.

Then I realized it wasn't a law. It was just common courtesy I was thinking of, and that Nancy had in fact become a real politician after all.