Culture

Around Town with Michael

| Michael Fralich |

Flying the Ukrainian Flag

I can remember the day my mother died. Being at her side when she drew her last breath was as miraculous as witnessing the birth of our two children. After she died I had an unapproachable feeling of sadness. It was so profound that it seemed odd to me that the world could possibly continue on as if nothing had happened. Of course, the world did go on. I continued teaching. Our lives went on as they had for years. Something inside me rebelled at this. To me, this tragedy of losing my mother should have made things stop. It did not.

I have felt the same profound sadness at what the Ukrainians are enduring at the hands of Vladimir Putin. This tragedy, however, causes me more sadness than I experienced when my mother died. This sadness is added to every time we watch the news. It is truly unbelievable that this wanton destruction and killing of innocents should still be taking place at the will of one man. I also know that this heavy feeling with not go away as so many are driven from their homes that are being destroyed even as they flee, often with babies in their arms.

My feelings of utter despair peaked when Putin’s forces bombed a maternity hospital. The image of a pregnant woman on a stretcher being carried away from the now destroyed hospital will be with me for a long time. We later learned that she survived her evacuation, had her baby, named her Veronica and they both died trying to flee the ceaseless bombardment of their city. How can the world still go on in the face of such tragedy. Just as when my mother died, the world does go on.

Today I spent an hour at the hardware store scratching my head in thought. I was trying to visualize what I needed for hardware to install my new flagpole and rig it for my new Ukrainian flag that arrived recently from an online vendor. I wanted to make a quiet statement to the world that flows past our house in the village that we are paying attention to the plight of the Ukrainians and keeping them in our prayers.

I had cut a maple tree in our back woods. It was twenty or so feet tall. I trimmed it to sixteen feet. I drilled my new pole in order to screw the six-inch lag bolts into the cedar post at the corner of Cyra’s stall. I had some trouble with the lag bolts. I overcame it. The rigging for the flag caused me to wish I’d started taking Prevagen memory and mental clarity supplement five years ago. I overcame that, too.

It was a blustery day when I finally hoisted the pole with its flag and screwed it onto the post in Cyra’s fence. The flag immediately began flapping in the stiff breeze. It seemed to be saying, “Look at me! Know what I stand for!” Keep an eye out. The flag is not hard to spot.