The inspiring blog 5293

I have crossed the country enough times to know that the flag shows up where you least expect it. It rides behind a rusted motorcycle somewhere outside Moab, snaps off the stern of a lobster boat at dawn, hangs above a volunteer firehouse that looks small enough to fit inside its own garage bay. I have seen it painted on plywood after a storm, when the stoplights are still dark and the grocery coolers hum like generators. I have watched kids drape it like a superhero cape u