"What to Make of a Diminished Thing"
Happy 4th ofJuly
I’m reading Ursula LeGuin and she introduces me to Robert Frost’s poem “The Oven Bird.” She interrogates stereotypes of old age, borrowing Frost’s line, “what to make of a diminished thing.” It rings in my head, over and over again, especially today, the 4th of July.
“What to make of a diminished thing?”
“You’re only as old as you feel,” is a stereotype she lays into. In her 80’s when she wrote this, she sees old age for what it is, hard, difficult, informed not only by a lifetime of choices, but by the choices that were taken away. The access people may or may not have had to good food, medicine, and community.
I look up from the book and see an American flag out my window. We are traveling and people across the U.S. are preparing for the 4th of July. Bright new flags are everywhere. Bunting is strung from railings. “Happy 4th,” is said by every person working in customer service. Smiles and waves are exchanged. I politely join in. What else is there to say? Many things, but that deviates from the social contract we’ve placed on each other.
The flags wave merrily in their bright newness. So. Many. Flags. It feels like overcompensation. A masking. A deflection. A purposeful looking away.
There, among a long line of upright flags pinned to lightpoles, one hangs down, tragically, the anchor holding it in place has given way and it bows down.
What, indeed, to make of this diminished thing?
***
Rome did not fall in a day. What did its citizens do in their day-to-day lives while it was falling? Did they wake up and go to work and make dinner and put their children to bed every night and wonder at the powerful humans who saw chess pieces instead of humans? Did they string up colorful flags and smile at their neighbors and grill a pile of meat? Did they too ask the question, what to make of this diminished thing or were they fearful to voice such a question?
***
My kid wants an American flag in our yard. He sees them everywhere. On long car rides, we’ve turned it into a game to keep him occupied. Who can find the most American Flags? He is already pretty competitive and sees flags stitched into the blue sky. I consider alternatives to the American flag outside my house. A pride flag. A Star Wars rebel flag. A pirate flag. No flags and just a profusion of wildflowers.
What to make of this diminished thing?
***
My little city juts out into the lake, a peninsula. To prevent erosion, huge chunks of old asphalt and cement are placed where land meets water. We fight so hard to keep this land. We even invite outsiders to come and look. Look, look at our beautiful lake. Visit and spend your money. But only if you have the right documentation. Only if you speak a certain way. Only if… The lake cares for none of this. The lake eats borders and our silly rules.
***
Ursula LeGuin in her ponderings on aging, concludes, “Childhood is when you keep going, old age is when you keep losing.” What if you can’t tell? What if the gains you are making are actually losses? Who gets to define that?
***
I remember the huge American flag my dad put up after 9/11. He attached it to the roofline and it covered one entire side of the porch so it became a protective wall of stars and stripes. It hung there for a long time. Long enough for time to do what it always does. Wear away. Erode. Fray. Diminish. No longer protecting but hiding. We became shadows moving behind it. I’m not sure what happened to that flag, but eventually it was replaced by a flag pole with a much smaller flag. It couldn’t hide anything then.
***
For nearly every year of my life, we have gathered in my parents’ backyard, huddled under blankets, blanketed in bug spray, sticky from the day’s sunblock and chlorine, bellies full from grilled meats, mayo-based salads, and cakes decorated like the American flag.
The fireworks start. We ohh and ahh. There is always at least one scared kid. Another person who talks through it all. Someone else who grumbles, that’s it?
Yes, that is it.