JULY 7, 2020 – On our way to the Red Cabin, we pass through the trim town of Cumberland, Wisconsin, population 2,170. Mom-and-pop stores line Main Street, the sole commercial street in town. At the economic center of town is an old 3M plant across from the high school football field.
The most remarkable feature of Cumberland is its flag fetish. On “big flag” holiday weekends—Memorial Day and Fourth of July, not to mention Flag Day—four large, bright American flags adorn every light pole along Main Street. The poles are 50 feet apart on both sides of the street for about a half-mile stretch. Do the math and you get some 400 flags. That’s in stark contrast to the sole Confederate flag that flies by a dwelling and outbuildings outside of town.
(In 2016, Cumberland—like its hinterlands—went overwhelmingly for Trump. The vote was 266 to Hillary’s 166. Judging by the TRUMP/2020 signs popping up lately, a wager on Trump’s carrying the town again in November would be well placed.)
I haven’t been to a country outside the U.S. that waves its national flag as much as we do. There’s one on or next to nearly every government building—federal, state, county and local. Every school flies one, and inside most churches you’ll find Old Glory standing in a corner pretending to be at once with the glory and apart from the altar. Call it “sorta separation of church and state.” Many a business park and often an office tower includes a flag on display, either on a pole outside or on a lobby wall inside.
What super sports stadium is without its super-sized American flag—old-style, as well as on the Jumbotron? No political rally, no graduation ceremony, no circus . . . well, back when we had circuses and graduation ceremonies . . . is full-fledged without a prominently displayed flag.
Flags in parks; flags hanging from our houses; flags flying over our front yards; flags on our T-shirts and on our underwear; flags fluttering from our cars, boats, motorcycles; flags on our caps and caps made of flags; flags as suspenders; flags in our business logos; flags, flags, flags . . .
As my wife and I were once driving around with a visitor of ours from Europe, our guest observed, “What’s going on with all your flags? No other country makes such a big deal over a flag.” Just then we passed a Perkins restaurant sporting the biggest flag our visitor had ever laid eyes on. I explained that no, “Mr. Perkins” wasn’t necessarily the biggest Trump supporter in the land. The Perkins organization was simply exploiting the flag to dodge limitations imposed by local sign ordinances. “Every American knows,” I said to our visitor, “That the biggest American flag in the community marks the location of a Perkins restaurant.”
I’m willing to bet that few flag enthusiasts think Perkins is violating flag etiquette, which prohibits use “for any advertising purpose.” After all, this is ’Murica, where anything goes, sign ordinances—and etiquette—be damned, especially when money’s to be made.
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
