Every Flag Tells a Story!
In the “Flags of Freedom-The Quest for Freedom,” Deluxe Edition, forty-five (45) of the 100+ flags profiled in “The Flags of Freedom Trilogy” share their stories as eyewitnesses of some of the most pivotal moments in America’s early history, and of the People, Places, and Events that helped our nation achieve its “Quest for Freedom.”
Together, the flags that flew during the eras of the Thinkers, Discoverers, Explorers, Colonizers, Revolutionaries, and Founders, tell the fascinating and epic history of America from the birth of Democracy in ancient Athens, to the birth of a new, free nation in the 18th century – The United States of America.
Following are a few samples of the stories of these flags, told in their own voices, as they witnessed America’s history taking place below them. Enjoy!
Flags of the Thinkers
MY STORY:
The Roman “Proto-Flag” Speaks
“I’m proud to be the “flag” of the Roman Republic, the Roman Empire, and the citizens of Rome! And, if I do say so myself, I must be a rather important one, as I’m prominently displayed in the Forum where I witnessed Roman history in the making. The letters ‘S.P.Q.R.’ emblazoned across me, stand for “Senatus Populusque Romanus,” or “The Senate and People of Rome,” whom I represent. I‘m also proud to be known as the second “Proto” Flag of Freedom!”
In the closing centuries B.C., and during the first centuries of the new millennium, A.D., the Forum in Rome was where Senators, and other important leaders met to discuss their ideas and to govern Rome, and the massive Roman Empire. I was there every day that the Senate met, an eyewitness to all of those important decisions on matters of law, and the governance of our Roman Republic. Oh, what stories I could tell!
While standing amidst those beautiful white marble columned spaces, I watched as some of Rome’s most famous orators, thinkers, and philosophers, discussed, argued, and voted on ideas affecting Roman freedom and the management of our massive empire.
When creating our government, we originally attempted to adopt the Athenian Greek’s ideas about their form of “direct” citizen self-government they called “Democracy,” but we found it had some serious shortcomings and flaws. The Athenian’s “pure” form of democracy with its direct citizen voting on issues of the day, was not only cumbersome, but prone to “Mob-Rule,” or the “Tyranny of the Majority.” So, to create a simpler, more functional, fairer, and more effective form of self-government, we took the core ideas from democracy, and added an innovation that we called a “Republican” form of self-government. In a “Republic,” the people elect a small group of “representatives” to study the issues of the day and then vote on those issues for them. This innovation offers a better type of self-governance that corrects the flaws and potential abuses of a pure democracy.
Some two millennia after our mighty empire rose and fell, the Greek’s ideas about democracy, and our Roman republican form of representative government lived on and found new life. After some 2,000-years, they would be resurrected to help inform, inspire, and motivate another new Republic, called America. There, in the 18th century A.D., another group of orators, thinkers and philosophers, collectively known as America’s ‘Founding Fathers,’ combined the best of Athenian Democracy with our Roman Republic, to create a new, and independent country with a revolutionary form of government ‘of the people, by the people, and for the people.”
Our Founding Fathers learned many of their ideas about freedom and self-governance from reading such famed Roman philosophers, historians, and writers, as Livy, Polybius, Tacitus, Cincinnatus, the lawyer and famous orator Cicero, and from historians like Herodotus, (known as ‘The Father of History’).
These were very wise men who understood that if they were to create the best new form of government for America, they would need to learn from history to make wise decisions. The importance of learning from history was also a subject that the ancients knew well. According to Cicero:
“To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child. For what is the worth of a human life unless it is woven into the life of our ancestors by the records of history?“
—The Roman Standard “Proto-Flag”
Flags of the Explorers
MY STORY:
The Columbus Flag Speaks!
“I was created in 1492 by the good graces of Ysabella, Queen of all Spain. A noblewoman of vision and determination, she had me specially designed to set the tone and purpose of my Captain’s voyage into the great unknown. My fabric carries more than just bright colors and intricate patterns—it holds the dreams of a kingdom, the faith of a nation, and the hopes of spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ to lands and peoples beyond the horizon.
My life began in the skilled hands of royal seamstresses. Each thread stitched into me carried a blessing, each color chosen with care to reflect my purpose. Queen Ysabella sold her own jewels to make this voyage possible, and so I was her gift to the endeavor, a constant reminder to Columbus and his crew of the sanctity of their mission. I became a symbol not just of Spain but of faith, exploration, and destiny.
When the day came for us to embark, I was raised high on the flagship, the Santa María. There I flew proudly just below the Royal Standard, as was right and proper. After all, it was not just Ysabella’s vision but the combined support of her and King Ferdinand that made this journey a reality. Still, I didn’t feel overshadowed. I was proud to serve as a visible testament to their faith in Columbus and his daring mission.
The journey itself was a test of endurance for all of us. As the winds carried us across the Atlantic, I flew above the deck, a steadfast presence amid the grumbling of sailors and the rolling waves that seemed to go on forever. I became a point of focus for weary eyes. When doubts crept into the hearts of the men below me, I reminded them of home, of the Queen’s sacrifices, and of the divine mission they had sworn to undertake.
Oh, how I marveled at the ocean! The vastness of it was humbling, even to one as accustomed to grandeur as myself. The salt-laden winds tugged at my edges, but I held firm, my colors unyielding under the sun and moon. There were moments of calm, when the sea mirrored the heavens, and moments of fury, when storms threatened to tear me from my mast. Through it all, I persevered, just as my Captain and his crew did.
And then, one glorious day, there it was—a shoreline, unlike anything we had ever seen. The shouts of “Land! Land!” rang out, filled with relief and wonder. I was unfurled in all my glory as we approached the strange, beautiful new world. The native peoples saw me before they saw any of us. I was the first to greet them, the first to announce the arrival of this small fleet bearing the hopes of Spain.
As we stepped ashore, I was carried high, a beacon of the new relationship forming between two worlds. I witnessed the awe and curiosity in the eyes of the native peoples as they gazed upon my bright colors. I felt the solemnity of the moment when Columbus claimed the land in the name of Spain, planting me firmly into the soil. It was a moment of mingled joy, hope, and uncertainty, one that would ripple through history.
We sailed on, exploring more shores, meeting more people, and spreading the word of the Queen’s mission. I became a silent participant in these encounters, an ambassador of sorts. My presence spoke of Spain’s strength and faith, but also of its desire to forge a connection with these new lands. The crew took pride in raising me wherever we landed, a ritual that reinforced the importance of our journey and its divine purpose.
Through triumph and hardship, I remained a constant companion to Columbus and his men. I was there when the winds failed us, and the food supplies ran low. I was there when disputes flared among the crew and when hope seemed lost. And I was there when we turned back toward home, bearing news of the wonders we had seen and the lands we had claimed.
When we returned to Spain, weathered but victorious, I was carried into the court of the King and Queen. I could feel the pride and relief radiating from Columbus and his crew as they stood before their benefactors. Ysabella’s eyes lingered on me, her flag, and I could sense her satisfaction. I had fulfilled my purpose, just as she had intended.
Today, I am remembered not merely as a piece of cloth but as a symbol of an extraordinary, world-changing journey. My fabric may have weathered with time, but the story I carry remains vibrant. I was born of faith, ambition, and sacrifice, and I flew into the unknown as a testament to human courage and the unyielding pursuit of a dream.
— The Columbus Flag
Flags of the Revolutionaries
MY STORY:
The Gadsden Flag Speaks!
“I was born in the fervor of rebellion, designed with purpose by a patriot whose vision burned as brightly as the sun over South Carolina. My creator, Colonel Christopher Gadsden, gave me life in 1776, a year etched into the annals of history with blood and fire. He was a bold man, a patriot who carried the weight of liberty’s promise on his shoulders, who found a kindred spirit in the first Commander of the Continental Navy, Commodore Esek Hopkins, who first raised me from his flagship, the “Alfred.”
But let us not forget the villain of this tale, the man who inadvertently gave birth to me. For without old Lord North, England’s Prime Minister, I might never have flown. His disdain for America, his sneering arrogance in believing that only Great Britain was truly ‘Great,’ and that the “Colonial Rabble” would fold like paper before the might of the Crown. It was his blindness to the rights of the colonies that provided the spark needed to set the revolution ablaze. Yes, it was his hubris that gave me purpose, and I owe my life to his folly.
I was first unfurled in the salty air of the Atlantic aboard a Continental Navy ship, my yellow field blazing against the endless blue. My coiled rattlesnake—a creature as misunderstood as the colonies themselves—stood ready to strike, its thirteen rattles representing the unity of those rebellious colonies. Beneath me, in bold black letters, my warning rang clear: “DON’T TREAD ON ME.” It was not a plea; it was a promise!
The Continental Congress, in all their deliberations, chose not to make me the official national flag. No matter. My spirit endured. Long after Lord North, King George III, and their Parliament lost their grip on these lands in 1783, I remained. While British tyrants fell and their empire began to crumble, I flew—over battlefields and courthouses, over rallies and protests, hoisted by farmers, soldiers, and statesmen alike. For nearly 250 years, I’ve stood as a sentinel of liberty, and while time may weather my cloth, it has no effect on the ideals I represent, and my message still resonates through each new generation.
In those early days of the Revolution, I was a cry against the chains of monarchy, and “Don’t Tread on Me” was a warning to the redcoats who sought to trample our freedom beneath their boots. And though the redcoats ultimately departed in shame, tyranny has many faces and I’ve remained steadfast against each one. In the tumultuous years of the 21st century, I’m still here, more popular than ever, worn on patches, printed on banners, and waved at gatherings where voices for freedom demand to be heard. My coiled snake has become a reminder that vigilance is the eternal price of liberty.
I take pride in my longevity. Two and a half centuries is a long time for any flag, yet I don’t look a day over 100! I have seen this nation grow from fledgling colonies to a sprawling republic. I have witnessed victories that rang like bells and defeats that tasted of ash. Through it all, I’ve remained a rattler you don’t want to shake. I’m no idle emblem; I’m a warning, a promise, and a testament to the indomitable spirit of freedom.
Yes, my origins were humble—a gift from a fiery patriot to a navy that was more a collection of merchant ships than a formidable fleet. But my meaning transcended those beginnings. When Commodore Hopkins hoisted me on high, I was more than fabric and dye; I was defiance incarnate. I was the voice of a people who refused to be subjugated.
Today, I still inspire, even though sometimes misunderstood, and even misused by a few who fail to grasp the original purpose of my message. But true patriots understand that I’m not just a relic of history, I am a living symbol, a call to action, and a reminder that the fight for freedom is never over.
So let the world remember: I was born in rebellion, raised in resistance, and have stood tall through centuries of change. And though my edges may fray, and my colors may fade, my spirit remains unyielding. “Don’t Tread on Me” is not just a warning; it is a vow. A vow that freedom will endure, as long as there are those willing to defend it.”
—This is my story!—The Gads-s-s-s-den Flag