EDITOR'S NOTE: The views and opinions expressed are those of the writer and not of Ottawa News Network.

Oh, say can you see

By the dawn’s early light,

What so proudly we hailed…

Not anymore.

Let me tell you a story about my father.

He lied about his age to join the Navy during World War II and was an “atomic veteran.”

No, he didn’t glow in the dark. But he did witness two A-bomb explosions in the South Pacific during Operation Crossroads. (Google it if you didn’t learn about it in history class.)

Luckily, he never dodged bullets or bombs. Luckily, he wasn’t seriously wounded like his older brother, Leslie, or my mother’s brother, George. Luckily, his plane wasn’t shot down over Europe behind enemy lines like my Uncle Hank.

But my father, along with his fellow sailors, probably got an unhealthy dose of radiation from witnessing the A-bomb tests up close and later wading in the “hot” water surrounding the Bikini Islands.

Fortunately for everyone, WWII ended a few months after he enlisted or maybe I wouldn't be writing this column.

Until the end of his life, he flew the American flag at his Michigan farm. Not because he was a member of MAGA — far from it — or wore his patriotism on his lapel. He rarely talked about his service, nor did my hero uncles.

He was what I’d call a quiet patriot, but always a proud American.

After he died in 2018, I continued the tradition of flying the flag, mostly out of respect for him.

Not anymore. The flag won’t fly for the next four years.

Sorry, Dad.

I’m still proud to be an American. I’m just not so proud of America and some of my fellow Americans.

I’m not going to waste your time explaining why.

What I will tell you is that I will be flying a Banana Nation flag. It’s a fine-looking yellow and blue striped flag flown by fans of the Savannah Bananas baseball team. I’ve never seen them play, but reportedly they’re a hoot.

I’m flying their flag because this country is being run like a banana republic by a man in the White House who acts like he’s, well, bananas so it seems appropriate.

One last story about my father.

Back in 1969, there was a war going on in Vietnam. I was draft age and lost my college deferment when the nation — wisely in my opinion — switched to a lottery system for drafting men my age.

I opposed the Vietnam War. I told my father if I was drafted, I’d refuse induction and instead go to jail.

It broke his heart, and I feared it may destroy our relationship. I was his only son, an only child.

But after a few hours of soul searching, he told me he supported my decision – even though he disagreed with it.

It told me a lot about my father. And a lot about why he and my uncles went to war.

They believed there never was a wrong time to do the right thing, even when it was unpopular, difficult or dangerous.

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Fortunately for me my lottery number was 342. That meant I would only be drafted if the Viet Cong invaded the Jersey shore. I never had to test the courage of my convictions.

So, until “you know who” is no longer in the White House, the banana flag will fly at the farm. After you know who is gone, I’ll replace it with Old Glory.

But until then, it’ll be stored in a cool, dry place until it can fly proudly again in these United States of America.

I think Dad would have my back again on this one.

— Bill Dalton is a former reporter and editor for The Kansas City Star. His book “Dalton’s Bend”— a compilation of Substack columns plus two short stories — will be available after April 1 on Amazon Kindle books.