In response to the tragedy, my husband went upstairs and dug his treasured flag out of storage. Nine feet long, partly handsewn, and an antique (it was a 48-star flag), it had been sent to him as a gift when he was a high school exchange student far from home, in Norway. According to his parents, it had once flown on a US merchant marine vessel.

We hung that flag from our garage a day or two after the attacks. On our little white garage, it made a heart-swelling sight. Today, we came home from the office to find it gone. Stolen.

Michael is heartbroken. Neither of us used to be much on flag-waving, but doing Civil War reenacting had changed that recently. We had come to a better understanding of what our flag could represent. We had never flown a flag from our home before, but felt that the present circumstances warranted it. Now, it is gone.

If anyone knows of a similar flag for sale, let me know... and I will pay just about any price that I can. Michael has been taking the tragedies very hard anyway, for all that we are way over here in Oregon. He is a police/EMS chaplain-in-training and remains stunned and transfixed by the story of Father Mike... who will be the unofficial patron saint of EMS chaplains from now on.