Nobody Reads This Page – “Flagged Online”

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(2-24)

 

 

Doing research for an online newspaper is something that often happens in real time, while working on writing projects. I zip through news stories and blog posts, find what I need, and keep moving. This sort of learning-on-the-fly is second nature to younger members of the creative continuum. But for those of us raised in the era of magazines and books, and library visits in person, it is a marvel to behold.

 

During a recent trip through cyberspace, I stumbled upon a mention of the Pine Tree Riot from 1772. An early event in the crescendo of our revolutionary zeal as a fledgling nation, about to be born. The banner depicted was of an evergreen tree, with the quote ‘An Appeal To Heaven’ accompanying this familiar arbor. The image seemed strangely appropriate for those living in a community like my own, which had been named at its inception in the 1950’s for that sturdy pine. But when I shared this tidbit of information with other residents who participated in a group dedicated to staying informed about events in the neighborhood, it fell flat like a pierced balloon. There were no comments or likes.

 

When I happened to include a photo of this obscure ensign in a message sent to my mentor and compatriot Carrie Hamglaze however, the reaction was completely opposite. She answered with a lively retort that bolstered my spirits.

 

“THAT’S AN INSPIRING TALE FROM AMERICAN HISTORY, MY FRIEND! BRAVO! I HADN’T THOUGHT ABOUT IT IN YEARS! I DO HAVE A GADSDEN FLAG, AND THE ONE DESIGNED BY BETSY ROSS AS WELL! BUT THE PINE TREE STANDARD ISN’T IN MY TROVE OF TREASURES! IF YOU SEE ONE AVAILABLE, DO PICK IT UP FOR ME! I WOULD BE VERY GRATEFUL!”

 

Discovering this interesting, cultural relic came while I was busy doing something else. A familiar reality while working in my home office. So, I did not immediately follow-up on her request. Yet eventually, some other mention of these emblems from our distant past jogged my memory. An article about the FBI having created a document that tagged such images as evidence of activity by MVEs, or ‘Militia Violent Extremists’ made me pause to dig more deeply.

 

Though it was nearly two years old in current terms, I remembered reading the report as if it had just been issued.

 

Christopher Gadsden’s iconic creation from 1775, bearing a coiled serpent on a yellow background, had become so ubiquitous in my neighborhood, that I wondered with a flash of dark humor if some sort of government surveillance might have been triggered. The phrase ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ was literally present all over our rural development. Along with other banners mentioned in the FBI screed. This sobering reality brought back more distant recollections, like the sight on television of Texas Senator Ted Cruz boasting about his cowboy boots, which were emblazoned with the Gonzales Battle Flag. A later talisman historically, but related in being stigmatized, by the bureau’s official investigation.

 

After studiously scrolling through archived literature that had been penned about the white-and-green, tree banner, with its quote inspired by John Locke, I rummaged around for his complete text. It popped up in his noted work, the ‘Second Treatise of Civil Government.’ For myself, the yield was emotionally moving and significant.

 

“And where the body of the people, or any single man, is deprived of their right, or is under the exercise of a power without right, and have no appeal on earth, then they have a liberty to appeal to heaven, whenever they judge the cause of sufficient moment. And therefore, though the people cannot be judge, so as to have, by the constitution of that society, any superior power, to determine and give effective sentence in the case; yet they have, by a law antecedent and paramount to all positive laws of men, reserved that ultimate determination to themselves which belongs to all mankind, where there lies no appeal on earth, viz. to judge, whether they have just cause to make their appeal to heaven.”

 

Adopting a modernist slant on this regal declaration, I switched to the website eBay. A place where I had often found items not seen in my own travels. Though this pine banner was still barely familiar in personal terms, I found that many versions were available for sale. The antiquated appeal to a higher vista had been copied onto cloth rectangles of all sizes, small and large. And depicted on adhesive stickers, coffee mugs, badges and buttons, and other items of graphic-intense apparel.

 

For a moment, I felt cheated in not having mentioned the flag in my ‘Trailer Park Militia’ series, which had taken place at the fictional Evergreen Estates. With hindsight, this omission made my belly groan. Though a future installment might be employed to rectify that sin.

 

Grande Dame Carrie truly needed the historical nugget in her collection. Therefore, I did not hesitate, despite normally moving at a snail’s pace while away from the keyboard. I hobbled to a chair in my living room, with a cup of coffee. Then, found the relevant shopping app on my cell phone. A vendor in Westminster, California had the item available for immediate purchase. Free shipping was advertised, with a promise of no delay in promptly getting products to their destinations. I clicked on the ‘buy now’ icon in between sips of hot java.

 

When the revolutionary ensign arrived, a trio of messages hit my inbox.

 

“I’m watching the movie Robin Hood while writing this note, a version from 1938. How appropriate as it carries a theme of fighting tyrannical oppression in Sherwood Forest. An awesome cast of actors was used, I watch it whenever Turner Classic Movies includes it in their schedule. You gift is a perfect compliment to my awesome day! It fits the mood set by this cinematic masterpiece! Again I say, bravo! I appreciate your overwhelming kindness!”

 

Her gracious reply made me wonder if there were other artifacts available. Perhaps I also should collect a few, to spruce up the appearance of my minimalist abode? The thought rattled around inside of my skull. But a secondary notion stilled this impulse in its tracks. My mug had gone empty. Now, I sat alone with my thoughts.

 

Would the sight of such historical references in and around my home cause me to be branded as an MVE by the authorities?