ALMOST REVERENTLY? (via The Mother Judd):

A Star-Spangled Banner Yet Waves at Lord & Taylor (JAMES BARRON, 5/26/08, NY Times)

Every morning at 10 a.m., before it allows customers to set foot inside its flagship store on Fifth Avenue, Lord & Taylor plays the national anthem — an orchestral recording that sounds like the Philadelphia Orchestra from the 1950s. It has lush strings and a full-bodied brass section, but no famous voice to belt out Francis Scott Key’s words over the loudspeakers.

Some mornings, the shoppers-in-waiting in the folding chairs do the singing. Some mornings, they do not. One morning a couple of weeks ago, the final chord was followed by a woman who stage-whispered “Play ball” as she plunged into the store.

Playing the national anthem each morning has become a ritual at Lord & Taylor. “The Star-Spangled Banner” is the same whether it’s a Wednesday in mid-March or a holiday like Memorial Day, which honors those who have died in service to their country.

Setting out the folding chairs just inside the revolving doors is another ritual. Lord & Taylor does that to give early birds a place to wait until after the final chord has soared over the whoosh of the escalators and the soft jazz has come back on.

The morning routine at Lord & Taylor is probably the longest-running daily ritual that can be traced to the 444-day Iran hostage crisis that began in 1979.

Walter Berns, in Making Patriots:

The following story is told by a foreign diplomat who, as he explains, had occasion to visit the United States Embassy in the capital of his country.

'I arrived at a quarter to six, after official office hours, and was met by the Marine on guard at the entrance of the Chancery.

He asked if I would mind waiting while he lowered the two American flags at the Embassy. What I witnessed over the next ten minutes so impressed me that I am now led to make this occurrence a part of my ongoing record of this distressing era.

The Marine was dressed in a uniform which was spotless and neat; he walked with a measured tread from the entrance of the Chancery to the stainless steel flagpole before the Embassy and, almost reverently, lowered the flag to the level of his reach where he began to fold it in military fashion. He then released the flag from the clasps attaching it to the rope, stepped back from the pole, made an about-face, and carried the flag between his hands--one above, one below--and placed it securely on a stand before the Chancery.

He then marched over to a second flagpole and repeated the same lonesome ceremony.... After completing his task, he apologized for the delay--out of pure courtesy, as nothing less than incapacity would have prevented him from fulfilling his goal--and said to me, "Thank you for waiting, Sir. I had to pay honor to my country."

I have had to tell this story because there was something impressive about a lone Marine carrying out a ceremonial task which obviously meant very much to him and which, in its simplicity, made the might, the power and the glory of the United States of America stand forth in a way that a mighty wave of military aircraft, or the passage of a supercarrier, or a parade of 10,000 men could never have made manifest.

One day it is my hope to visit one of our embassies in a faraway place and to see a soldier fold our flag and turn to a stranger and say, "I am sorry for the delay, Sir. I had to honor my country."

Posted by Orrin Judd at May 26, 2008 8:59 PM