Whatever happened to America?

Someone complained yesterday that flags were not at half mast in recognition of Sept. 11.

I don’t know flag etiquette, but it seems to me like it would show reverence and respect to fly the flag at half mast on this particular day. Maybe it isn’t required; I don’t know. I don’t remember what position flags were in a year ago.

What I do remember though is what the country was in the days and months after Sept. 11, 2001. We as a country were outraged. We vowed that the sleeping giant America had been until that date was awake and really ticked off.

Flags started appearing everywhere. On cars. In yards. In windows. It was a riot of red, white and blue.

And the rallies! Oh, my the rallies. I  can recall people marching toward the courthouse one afternoon. There were speakers. Our elected officials promised we would not be messed with. We were going after the people who killed our people in the towers, in that Pennsylvania field and at the Pentagon.

I recall standing on a corner, taking it all in, looking down the street at a crowd of people marching in tune to their outrage. In the midst of the crowd was a guy in a Taco John costume, a huge sombrero bobbing along with the rest of the crowd. It seemed funny, out of place, and yet so right.

On the second floor of the courthouse an elected official and a couple of staffers taped a sign in the window directed toward Osama bin Laden, believed to be behind the attacks of Sept. 11. It wasn’t obscene but it wasn’t something you’d want your grandmother to see. Yet, no one was offended. It was good for a chuckle.

We get offended a lot lately. That day, the sign seemed appropriate. The crowds felt safe. We were united in our sorrow and anger.

Time went on and little impromptu parades with placards on pickup trucks would roar through town – flags flying, horns honking, sabers rattling. Firefighters and police officers became heroes.

Then life went back to somewhat normal. The flags disappeared from the cars, from the yards, no one seemed outraged so much. The patriotism was there; it just got quieter.

Then it seemed like we forgot our anger, our outrage. We marked Sept. 11 as it came and went each year, but no one posted rude messages to the enemy on the courthouse windows, and the parades and rallies stopped. We were no longer united against an enemy bent on our destruction.

And America did an about face. Police became the enemy, rallies were replaced with riots and looters. Flags were burned and trod on.  As Pogo once said (for those old enough to remember Pogo): “We have met the enemy and it is us.”

What happened?