i remember sitting on dad's salt rimed and pale lichened cape porch, a big ass flag flapping awkwardly in front of us. i said when did you start waving the big flag dad, and he said always, and i said hmm, i've never noticed before. now i can't miss it for the view.
i remember dad, down in the subground galley, when i brought my ex, xstine, to visit, scurrilously denouncing immigrants as a filthy lot of criminals. i flushed and said, aren't you one of them, an immigrant too? well one generation removed means a lot in jingo america, but he magnanimously included himself, yeah, i'm a filthy criminal too.
still, you don't crittersize a man's flag even if it blocks the view.