My cool blog 8002

The first flag I ever raised on my own was an old, hand stitched family banner that my grandfather kept folded in a cedar chest. It was not official or famous. It marked the reunion of a Pennsylvania regiment where his great uncle served as a drummer boy. The fabric smelled of cedar and dust, the blue had faded toward slate, and one brass eyelet had been replaced with a loop of twine. I remember the relief of the halyard sliding through the pulley, the way the cloth snapped