One of the spruce trees that last year’s drought killed had two trunks. One of them was tall and straight – perfect for a flag pole.
When the tree guys came to cut down the dead trees, I had them leave that one in a single piece. Everything else was chopped up and hauled away.
I pealed off the bark, smoothed the surface, treated with wood preservative, and gave the whole shebang two coats of white paint. Then I installed the hardware: a pulley at the top, a nylon halyard and a metal cleat near the bottom. I could have added an eagle that screwed into the top, but I figured a six-inch ornament atop a 35-foot pole wouldn’t be noticed anyway except by curious birds who probably aren’t all that patriotic to begin with.
Next task, dig the hole. Easy-breezy, you say. What with all the rain we’ve had, digging through soft dirt should be a snap. True, except by the time you get down four feet it hasn’t seen rain in a thousand years and the soil is only slightly softer than granite. Plus, the average post hole digger is only five feet tall. That means you have to get down on your knees to grasp the handles. As a result, the last foot of dirt comes up a teaspoonful at a time.
Once the hole was dug, the next problem was how to get a 40-foot pole weighing in at 200 pounds upright and into the hole. I rubbed my chin and pondered. Then I called my stepson who came over and rubbed his chin and pondered.
After an hour or so of chin rubbing and pondering, we settled on a solution. At least we hoped it was a solution. We put the pole on top of my Explorer and backed the vehicle to the edge of the hole. Then we scooted the pole aft until it tipped to the ground with the end at the edge of the hole.
So far, so good. The next issue was to move the pole upright so it would drop into the hole. Slowly, I backed the Explorer while my stepson stood on the rear bumper and did his best to keep the pole from sliding off the side. Inch by inch the pole moved toward the sky. Then, with a loud thunk, it dropped into hole and stood upright. Magically, it was perfectly plumb.
Quickly, we filled the hole with concrete, congratulated one another and breathed a sigh of relief.
Last Sunday we raised the flag. And I realized, watching that beautiful red, white and blue banner wave in the breeze, that this was what all the chin rubbing and pondering was all about.
