A Bluestocking Knits

It grieves me more than I can say that as I began to put out the American flag this morning, I hesitated, remembering its use in recent weeks not as a symbol of unity and cooperation but of division and hate.  I can think of no better thing to tell myself or anyone else than the closing words of Abraham Lincoln's first inaugural address in 1861 —

We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

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