America – Page 19 – Life In A Word

Banner Birthday

I unfurled my American flag off the back deck of our house yesterday. It’s a prominent location for the Stars & Stripes, where people passing by on the adjacent street can’t miss it. Then again, we live in a quiet neighborhood so I’d be surprised if many took notice. I’d be even more surprised if they knew why I was flying the flag. Perhaps you missed it too. Yesterday was Flag Day.

To be brutally honest, I’m not sure why America has a Flag Day. Oh sure, the history books tell us Flag Day commemorates the adoption of the U.S. flag, way back on June 14, 1777. One could argue there’s no amount of honor and celebration large enough for our country’s heritage and freedom. But Independence Day gets a whole lot more attention than Flag Day. Ditto Memorial Day and Veterans Day. At least those days are true “holidays” in the United States.

Flag Day was established in 1916, so what-do-ya-know that makes this year’s celebration the 100th anniversary. I didn’t see any parades or fireworks to commemorate the centennial, did you? Then again, I don’t think America fully embraces Flag Day. If we adopted our flag in 1777, why did we need another 140 years to give it a “day”? Flag Day isn’t even an official holiday in this country. The President has the discretion to decide if it should be celebrated in a given year. On that note, I don’t recall a proclamation from President Trump so maybe I should’ve kept my flag in the closet.

There’s further confusion about Flag Day. Congress didn’t put the commemoration into “law” until 1949, thirty-three years after Woodrow Wilson established the day. No states acknowledged Flag Day before 1937, when Pennsylvania became the first. Other states – notably New York – decided it made better sense to put Flag Day on a weekend, as in the second weekend in June. We can’t even agree on the date.

There’s history about Flag Day that precedes President Wilson, but it’s spotty. The earliest reference is 1861, when a citizen of Hartford, CT suggested the idea and the city put together a celebration. That didn’t take. I885, Bernard Cigrand of Waubeka, WI began a prolonged push for a U.S. Flag Day. After one local observance, he traveled around the country “promoting patriotism, respect for the flag, and the need for the annual observance”. Thanks to Cigrand, Wilson established Flag Day thirty years later. Cigrand is thus earned the title, “Father of Flag Day”.

Despite the facts, Flag Day still has me scratching my head. The “National Flag Day Foundation” celebrates – like New York – on the second Sunday in June, yet the Star-Spangled Banner Flag House in Baltimore and the Betsy Ross House in Philadelphia prefer June 14th (lending credence to “National Flag Week”). Parades and festivities take place around the country, but the discretion seems to be with the states as much as the President. Here in Colorado Springs, home of the Air Force Academy and several other military bases, Flag Day came and went without so much as a whisper.

Fifty other countries have a Flag Day so there is some legitimacy to the concept. But in many cases, those countries celebrate their independence as well. That makes a lot more sense to me. The flag is a connotation for liberty, so why not go with one holiday instead of two?

I admire the homes with the permanent flagpoles in the front yard, their owners pridefully raising the Stars & Stripes day in and day out. But Flag Day must be “just another day” to these people. Fittingly, americanflags.com describes Flag Day as “consistently overlooked yet universally beloved”. I’d agree with the first part of that statement.

With all due respect, I’ll continue to unfurl the Stars & Stripes on Flag Day, no matter how many people notice. If for no other reason, to echo the words of one of our most revered presidents:

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Touched by Midas

We’re in the midst of America’s red-carpet season of horse racing; the trifecta otherwise known as the “Triple Crown”. Over the course of five weeks we’ll witness the fastest three-year old’s thoroughbred racing has to offer. The jewels of the Crown – the Kentucky Derby in Lexington, the Preakness in Maryland, and the Belmont Stakes in New York – showcase a combination of sport, fashion, and tradition like no other. Don’t miss the Belmont on June 10th; at a mile-and-a-half the longest of the jewels.

The service industry also has crown jewels. Apple, Starbucks, and Amazon deliver a customer experience just about as satisfying as the products they sell. FedEx is so reliable a delayed or lost package is not even a remote possibility. But let’s kick it up a notch and talk about the Ritz-Carlton Hotel Company. The Ritz-Carlton is such a renowned, decorated jewel of service excellence it deserves its own category. Only the Walt Disney Company could claim such preeminence.

My wife and I were fortunate to experience “the new gold standard” of Ritz-Carlton’s hospitality this past weekend. Celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary, we ventured into the Colorado Rockies for a couple of days of rest and relaxation at the Ritz in Beaver Creek, near Vail. Colorado is in “mud season” now – mid-May through Memorial Day – so mountain-town resorts deep-discount, befitting the budgets of mere mortals like us.

Pulling up to the Ritz, the valet offered us bottled water and whisked away our luggage and car. At the front desk we were assured a “lovely, quiet room far out on the north wing”. In the room itself the porter promptly stowed our bags and explained all the little details. With our modest room-service dinner our attendant produced a complimentary bottle of champagne and stack of those little pillow chocolates. Happy Anniversary!

But here’s where our story gets a little dicey. Sometime after midnight my wife and I woke to the sounds of a very nearby party. Turns out the room next door housed the groomsmen and a whole lot of guests from a wedding at the hotel. Blasting our sleepy ears: music, dancing, dozens of loud, happy voices, and… the unmistakable smell of marijuana. Thank you neighbors; my dreams were colorful enough already.

The next morning over room service breakfast, we voiced a carefully-worded complaint to the attendant who brought our tray. How many guests do you allow in a single hotel room? Is this a non-smoking hotel? Can you smell the still-pungent aroma of pot drifting under the doorway of the adjacent room?

Time for a taste of the Ritz-Carlton gold standard. Our attendant immediately comped our breakfast, assured us we would be moved to another room, and said to expect a call from the hotel manager. The manager told us another room was already being prepared and we would be moved at our earliest convenience. When the bellhop escorted us to the south wing, he was quick to note, “this is one of my favorite rooms in the hotel”.

In fact, the room was breathtaking. The Ritz labels this one an “executive suite”, complete with large sitting room, fireplace, refrigerator, two televisions, two bathrooms, separate shower and bath, and a spacious outdoor balcony facing spectacular Vail Mountain. Safe to say, the remainder of our anniversary weekend was spent in unexpected luxury.

The gold standard of Ritz-Carlton service excellence is no secret. Early in their colorful history, the hotelier recognized no amount of luxury or elegance derives the same return as an attitude of “the customer is always right”. Every interaction begins with the thought, “The answer is ‘yes’! What is the question?” The hundreds of valets, bellhops, and concierges are trained as thoroughly as the management team, as they are the true face of the hotel. Thus are these employees always addressed as “Ladies” and “Gentlemen”. To add an exclamation point, the Ritz created a Leadership Center and Learning Institute, where thousands of managers from other companies train on the Ritz’s incomparable principles.

You can learn more about Ritz-Carlton’s brand of excellence by reading Joseph Michelli’s The New Gold Standard. You can also sign up for a session at their Leadership Center. My advice: stay at a Ritz hotel sometime (hopefully you have a “mud season”). Nothing explains the gold standard better than the Midas touch itself.

Game of Stones

Do you know the absurd story of the London Bridge? Built in 1831, the famous bridge lasted 130 years over the Thames River before overwhelming traffic demanded the construction of a new one. So, what did London do with the old one? They sold it. Robert McCulloch, an American oilman, paid over $2 million to have the bridge dismantled into pieces, shipped to the coast of California (through the Panama Canal), trucked across the desert to the edge of Arizona, and reconstructed in newly-established Lake Havasu City. Look at that photo below – that’s a lot of truckloads. Call him crazy but McCulloch recouped his bridge money by selling the surrounding desert properties to retirees. He also took several thousand bits of the bridge and put them in tiny glass bottles for souvenirs. I bought one of these bottled bits when I was a kid.

The London Bridge story came to mind this week after reading a Wall Street Journal article about Hawaii. It seems volcanoes are making their way to mainland America much the same way the London Bridge made its way to Arizona. Tourists to Hawaii’s Volcanoes National Park – the 500-square mile preserve on the Big Island – are stuffing lava rocks into their suitcases as souvenirs; some over a foot long. I’d like to see the size of the volcano you could build from all the lava bits stolen (yes stolen; helping yourself to rocks in a national park is technically illegal). That volcano would be hundreds of feet taller than the paper mache science project you assembled in your youth (baking soda + vinegar = lava flow!)

This rock-robbing in Hawaii is big business. How do I know? Because the real story here is the hundreds of rocks being returned to Volcanoes National Park. Park rangers claim they’re receiving mailings every day, each containing a) a stolen lava rock, and b) a letter of apology. Turns out – if you believe this sort of thing – taking lava rocks puts a curse on your life and bad things start to happen. In one case, a tourist claimed his sons began having behavioral problems, his marriage fell apart, and his mother died; all within a few months of bringing home a lava rock.

The Hawaiian Goddess of fire, lightning, wind, and volcanoes – Pele – is responsible for the curse. She is credited with creating the Hawaiian Islands in the first place. Her domain encompasses all volcanic activity on the Big Island, and she’s known for her power, passion, jealousy, and capriciousness. Yo, don’t take Pele’s rocks!

(Note: as I was reading up on “Madame Pele” I recalled the 2014 computer-animated short “Lava”. Remember the story, about two volcanoes who fall in love – “Uku” and “Lele”? Maybe Lele was Pele in disguise – casting her powerful curse from the big screen!)

My wife and I went to Hawaii on our honeymoon thirty years ago. We saw several volcanoes but never did we consider taking a lava rock home (loading up on pineapples and several boxes of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts instead). I mean really, what do you do with a lava rock: display it in your living room as if you own a share of Hawaii?

Perhaps these rock-robbers are the same peeps who fell for Pet Rocks in the 1970’s. If you weren’t around back then, Pet Rocks were smooth stones gathered from Mexico’s Rosarito Beach. They had cute painted faces and were sold as if live animals, in little boxes with straw beds and breathing holes. They included a lengthy training manual to “properly raise and care for one’s new Pet Rock”. (The easiest commands were “sit” and “stay”.) The Pet Rock phenomenon was as absurd as rebuilding the London Bridge, yet 1.5 million were sold for four dollars apiece in a six-month frenzy. Gary Dahl – “founder” of the Pet Rock – became an instant millionaire.

My conclusion on all this rock talk? Real people are as capricious as Hawaii’s fiery goddess. London Bridge inspired a nursery rhyme (“… is falling down…”) so we sing about rocks. Hawaii’s volcanoes inspired a Pixar story so we watch a movie about rocks. But stealing rocks inspired a curse, cast on all who dare to help themselves. No thanks, Pele. Put it in stone; if I must have a rock I’ll take my chances and invest in the $4 pet-friendly variety instead.

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Down Goes The Flag

Lately it seems the American flag is more often at half-staff than not. When the flag is at full-staff I get lost in the surrounding scenery, with just a passing glance at the Stars & Stripes. But at half-staff the flag is an effigy of its prouder self. It might as well be illuminated with several of those Hollywood-style searchlights, as if to say, “something’s wrong with this picture.”

There is something wrong with this picture: I don’t immediately know the reason the flag goes to half-staff. There’s no accompanying billboard to tell me who or what we’re commemorating with this gesture. In fact, it wasn’t until I wrote this piece that I navigated to halfstaff.org (of course there’s a website), where you can learn why and when the red, white, and blue becomes more than just the unfurled symbol of America’s freedom.

Let’s get two misconceptions out of the way. One, the flag is not considered “half-mast” but rather “half-staff”. If the flag is “half-mast” you’re probably rocking and rolling on a ship at sea instead of standing on dry land (but the significance remains the same – respect, mourning, distress, or a salute). Two, the flag is not “raised to half-staff”. First it is raised to full-staff, paused, and then lowered to half-staff for the rest of the day. But unless you’re there at sunrise you’ll probably miss that little detail.

“Half-staff” dates to the century before America’s founding fathers. Today the President issues the request through executive order, and all government facilities (including schools and military bases) are expected to comply. Typically, we’re commemorating the death of a prominent government official, whether on the day of passing or the day of remembrance. And speaking of passing, the gesture of lowering the flag is said to make room for an “invisible flag of death” flying above. I kind of like that.

As if to play copycat, state, city, and other flags and pennants are expected to follow suit whenever the American flag goes half-mast. But state flags can go half-mast by their own right. Here in Colorado our state flag has been lowered more than twenty times in the past five years. Just yesterday our governor ordered half-mast, to honor the passing of Ray Kogovsek, a former Colorado lawmaker and U.S. Congressman.

The American flag is also flown at half-mast to acknowledge days or events in U.S. history. Thus, you can expect the raise-then-lower on Memorial Day, Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day (12/7), and what is now called Patriot Day (9/11). Also since 2001, the flag is flown at half-mast in conjunction with the annual National Fallen Firefighters Memorial Service.

Several similar gestures to half-staff – especially since the advent of social media – have emerged to enlighten us to those who suffer. Think about all those “Awareness Ribbons” (or bracelets), displayed on clothing and cars. Their meaning is linked to their color, as in the following examples: Blue – Drunk-driving intolerance; Pink – Breast Cancer awareness; Rainbow – Gay Pride and support of the LGBT community; White – Victims of terrorism or violence against women; Yellow – Support of U.S. troops (among a dozen other designations), but generally a symbol of hope.

Recently I’ve noticed houses in our neighborhoods with a single green light brightly illuminated next to the front door at night. As I discovered here, I’m seeing the “Greenlight A Vet” program, meant to “show America’s veterans the appreciation they deserve when, back home and out of uniform, they’re more camouflaged than ever.” You can even purchase and/or register your green light on the website as a show of solidarity. 9.3 million people have done just that. Four are right here in my zip code.

The green lights do catch my attention. As a civilian I don’t think our veterans get nearly the appreciation or respect they deserve, so “bravo” to the program. But the American flag doesn’t get the appreciation or respect it deserves either (a topic for another post). Thankfully, it’s hard to ignore the right-but-somehow-wrong image of the Stars and Stripes at “half-staff”.

Demise of the Department Store

In today’s headlines the Wall Street Journal turns to Sears – the aging department store chain – which will close 150 locations in the next several months. Sears will also sell its iconic Craftsman tool brand (to competitor Stanley/Black & Decker) in a longer-term “fix-it-and-return-it” strategy intended to strengthen the company. Clearly these events feel like the beginning of the end for Sears, and the end has been coming for a long time. The day Sears shutters its last store will be a sad one – as if a slice of the proverbial American apple pie is lost forever.

In the defining years of baby-boomers Sears was the retail destination (and catalog) of choice. Sears Roebuck and Company – as it was originally known – bridged the gap between America’s small-town general stores and today’s elaborate shopping malls. As recently as 1989 Sears was still the largest retailer in the United States. In a world dominated by Wal*Mart, Target, and The Home Depot it’s hard to picture Sears atop the department store heap just a few decades ago.

The Sears store where I grew up – on the west side of Los Angeles – is not one of the 150 due to close its doors this year. That makes me happy. My Sears store is forever embedded in my childhood memories. It was where my mother clothed me and my four brothers. It was where my father bought appliances and a workshop full of Craftsman tools (most of which I’m sure he still has today). It was the brick-and-mortar embodiment of the Sears “wish book” – the wonderfully large and colorful catalog filled with 1960’s kids’ Christmas dreams. Last and perhaps most significantly, Sears was the location of the “Portrait Studio”, for which my family dutifully dressed up and posed every Christmas. One of my all-time favorite photos has all of my brothers standing smartly around the Sears-store Santa Claus, while I’m sitting in his lap bawling my two-year-old eyes out.

Sears would enter my life again somewhat unexpectedly, when I was in college studying to be an architect in the 1980’s. On several trips to Chicago my classmates and I visited the Sears Tower, the distinctive stair-stepped black skyscraper in the center of the Windy City. The Sears Tower was completed in 1973 as the tallest building in the world, and the first to use a “bundled-tube” structural design. Forty-three years later it is still the second-tallest in the Western Hemisphere (behind the recently-completed One World Trade Center in New York City).

Today’s Wall Street Journal article about Sears – which you can find here – includes dozens of reader comments more insightful than the article itself. The comments yearning for Sears’ glory days are clearly written by my peers. The comments blaming Sears’ demise on Amazon and other on-line retailers are largely from younger writers. In one particularly stinging but accurate account, Wade Harshman writes, “I still like the brand. I just don’t like waiting in line 20 minutes to buy a wrench because the one Sears rep is wrestling with a 1980 IBM machine and trying to sell an extended warranty on a $5 extension cord.”

If you Google “Sears Department Store”, you get the following up top:

It’s a sad statement when all four sub-links of the initial hit point to marked-down prices as the way to get you to buy at Sears. Then again this is senescent brick-and-mortar shopping we’re talking about. Montgomery Ward disappeared in 2001. K-Mart and J.C. Penny hang by a deteriorating thread. Even Macy’s reports “dreary” holiday sales, poised to close (another) 68 stores this year. Could Bloomingdale’s or Saks really be next?

Think about Sears and the disturbing/inevitable (take your pick) headlines of retail closings the next time you click your way to another on-line purchase. Future generations of shoppers may not even understand the meaning of “department store”.