Yay! The Cubs won!
On my way to work, there’s a house that routinely flies the Cubs victory flag when the good guys win one. That be usual fare on the Northside but seeing it down here in Urbana is enough to put an extra spring in my step in the morning. I find myself walking down that street more often on my way to work just so I can see that flag.
Dang, the Cubs lost the day I took this picture.
On the days the Cubs don’t win, the people at this house fly the American flag. That’s a decent sentiment, I would think. Despite what my friends might think, I have a healthy respect for the red, white, and blue. But this causes a dilemma. Now when I turn the corner, look up and see the Grand Old Flag, I’m reminded of the Cubs loss the night before. The pain, the anguish. Like Paul Revere’s lights in the tower, the American flag is a signal, only a signal of my team’s defeat.
Maybe I should go buy them a second flag holder.
Go Cubs!