We have a flagpole hanging from the front of Crazy House. It’s our third. The wind destroyed the first, sending it flying off to god-knows-where along with our St. Patrick’s Day flag. The second also got torn out by the wind, which also ripped the holder out of the brick. (Not for nothing do they call Chicago “The Windy City.”) We figured it was gone forever with our Valentine’s Day flag, maybe skewering some hapless Chicagoan who was just trying to get home, out of the wind. We made a pact to never say a word if the news reported “Local man impaled by Valentine flagpole.”
But nothing came of the disappearance so we figured it had just found its way down the block. Then when the snow melted we found it lying in our gangway which was weird in itself because the wind had been blowing from the west, not the east, so would have blown the flag and pole toward the street. We replaced the holder, changed the flag, and life went on.
So a few weeks ago we wanted to switch from spring (daffodils) to summer (poppies), and while we were going through our bag o’ flags, Glinda remarked that we should think about putting up one of the Mary Engelbreit ones. I said, “Sure, that’d be good too.” So she took all the flags out and we looked through them. We found our No Matter Where You Go, There You Are flag, which is cute. But we both remembered having one with a hammock on it. A girl in a hammock. Very summery.
We looked through all the flags. No hammock. We were starting to wonder if we’d imagined having one. In any event, poppies were chosen, and duly affixed to the pole.
Then we changed the flag for the 4th, putting out the stars and stripes because we consider ourselves patriotic even if conservatives would disagree. (And I’ll match my knowledge of and adherence to flag etiquette against theirs any day, so they can just quit wearing American flag shorts, or stop telling me what’s wrong with me. I’m serious about the flag, do not ever doubt it.)
So today we took the American flag down, and decided to put up the No Matter Where… flag because we were in an Engelbreitish mood. We both mentioned again that we’d been so sure about the hammock flag, and as we were discussing it, what does Glinda pull out of the bag but the Mary Engelbreit hammock flag! The exact flag we were looking for weeks ago, but which did not seem to exist.
Crazy House had returned it to us.
That’s a generous assessment. The truth is that Crazy House stole it from us and returned it when we started to get annoyed that we couldn’t find something we knew we owned. It does that to us. It’s particularly bad with batteries for some reason.
Do we have a ghost, you ask. Well… maybe. I have seen the memory of one of the greyhounds that used to live here, just a glance of that distinctive shape moving through my dining room. But only once.
But someone was killed here years ago, electrocuted in our basement. By rights we should have a ghost, and who knows, maybe we do. But if we do, he’s a fairly benign spirit, and it might not even be him swiping stuff and putting it back. For all we know it’s just the house. After we moved here, we decided that it was a friendlier version of Hill House, not mean, not sad, just confused and a bit goofy. We’re both good with that. Keeps things interesting, right?
So we’ve got the hammock flag a-flyin’ now, and will leave it up until we get tired of it and switch to something else. We still need one for St. Pat’s, but we’re pretty well covered for every other major holiday.
I sometimes wonder what our neighbors think.