Every time I passed by, he was there – in the cul-de-sac, near his house, seated in his walker/chair, across from the school, with his American flag flying, a smaller flag in his hand, waving. I often thought of stopping to visit with him, but it was COVID season and social distancing was being advised. So, I slowed down, lowed my window and saluted him and his flags. He always responded with a wave. One day, as I passed by, there was a fire truck and an ambulance in the cul-de-sac. I worried that it was for him. After that day, I never saw him again. Perhaps he died, or maybe he is in a hospital or a senior care center. I wish I had stopped to visit with him. I never even stopped my car for a brief visit, never saw anyone with him, but I appreciated his patriotism, and his friendly wave. I only hope my salute made his day a little better. How many others are there like him – living out their lives, loving their country, waving their flags, alone, and lonely. Had I ever stopped to ask his name, he might have answered as a man once answered Jesus, “My name is Legion; for we are many” (Mark 5:9).
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