The flag...was huge. Of course, "huge" is a relative term. It was bigger than the flags people have at their homes, but smaller than the flags unfurled at the Super Bowl. However when you stand under under the fabric as it moves and flows in a strong wind, it's impressive.
In large cities and small towns across our state, communities celebrated not a date when a state was born, but a day that a group of weathered, haggard, and expelled pioneers entered a desolate valley and called it home.
July 24, 1847.
A lot's changed since then.
That was 174 years ago today. The first time I experienced this holiday (even though I was not yet one-year old...), the holiday was only 119 years old.
A lot's changes since 1966, too.
My family went to the celebration in our little town. At the east end of the park, a large flag was tied between tall pillars. Because of a strong north wind, the flag was not majestically hanging as a backdrop to the event, but it was almost perpendicular to the ground. I walked to it and snapped several pictures and took a video. It struck me that even though it wasn't displayed as intended, it was beautiful just the same.
I know, for some, it's not popular to love where you're from, but I do. I loved seeing the flag flying this morning. I hope the tradition continues for generations to come.
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