I am wary of flag photographs, because there are so many and because in my lifetime the people who speak the most about patriotism rarely practice its true meaning in America – love, tolerance, common purpose, freedom,  individuality. But that is a narrow view. Driving down Hanks Road tonight with Maria, I saw this great flag flapping in the wind as the sun set behind it, and my heart did stir at the meaning of this flag for so many people, and I thought of my grandmother, who fled Russia in terror and sorrow, leaving her slaughtered family behind and who would, until the end of her life, throw herself in front of me to protect me if she saw a police cruiser passing by. “Grandma,” I would try and explain to her, although I spoke no Yiddish and that was all she spoke, “you don’t have to hide from the police in America. In Russia, she would try and explain to me, it was the police who killed her family, who came for them. But that is not true here, I would explain. Here, the police  protect us.” She never quite believed me, but that has always been true for me, and my grandma lived out her life peacefully and safely. This what I felt when I saw this beautiful flag, guiding the sun down to the horizon.