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It's an image indelibly etched on the brains of everyone who has seen it: three dust-covered New York City firefighters struggling gamely to raise the flag above the World Trade Center rubble, below them the bodies of untold numbers of victims. It's an Iwo Jima moment, a potent symbol of American resolve in the face of unspeakable horrors.
Old Glory shows its face
on mementos ranging from
cups to key chainsBy Scott Vogel
svogel@starbulletin.comAnd it's available at the Kmart on Nimitz Highway for $19.99.
Or at least a desk clock version of it is, an odd geegaw bearing an inscription "in commemoration of American heroism" and promising an unspecified amount of donations to victims' relief efforts. Whatever your view of the "Freedom Fighters Clock," it's undeniably eye-catching, not unlike the adjacent "American Freedom Watch" that plays a 30-second version of the national anthem or the 21-ounce bag of red, white and blue M&M's sold nearby.
There's no doubt that the appropriateness of current patriotic gestures will be debated for years to come, as it always has been. But the larger question -- why we buy, display and devour such merchandise in times of national crisis -- is arguably more interesting.
Purveyors of patriotic merchandise abound.
Supermarkets all over town are stocking their shelves with Kellogg's Pop-Tarts featuring a "strawberry filling that unites with creamy vanilla frosting and crunchy star sprinkles to deliver a champion snack in red, white and blue." The Royal Kunia Wal-Mart, meanwhile, stocks "crushable, colorfast, washable" patriotic lei, an assortment of Americana plaques and more than 18 different star-spangled bolts of fabric priced at $4.50 a yard.
Hilo Hattie has "United We Stand" headbands and rhinestone-studded kerchiefs, not far from its USS Missouri shot glasses. And DFS Galleria, festooned with patriotic bunting worthy of Yankee Stadium, sports a display of USA chocolate-covered almonds, an image of the Statue of Liberty prominently featured on the box. Elsewhere, red, white and blue clothing can be found throughout the mall, notably a T-shirt depicting a shark toting a star-spangled surfboard.
And for shoppers whose patriotic thirst is still unquenched, there's always the Internet, a vast jingoistic bazaar in which one finds wallets, ties, checkbook covers, scrunchies, visors and toe rings -- all draped in Old Glory.
Had enough? What about red, white and blue coffee mugs, mailboxes, refrigerator magnets, pins, pens, key chains, lighters, tea kettles and mouse pads? ("Use this 100% leather custom airbrushed mouse pad to guide your mouse with precision through terrorist camps around the world," counsels one Internet merchant.) What about Anheuser-Busch commercials -- debuting during today's Super Bowl -- showing the company's fabled Clydesdale horses crossing the Brooklyn Bridge and bowing their heads in the direction of Ground Zero? What about "Wipe Out Bin Laden" toilet paper, complete with a photo of the Al-Qaida leader on every sheet?
And don't even ask about flags, available in everything from cotton to polyester to nylon to neon.
The rush to market items of all sorts and the resulting buying binge reflect various emotions.
"There's a certain tawdry aspect to it," says Paul Hooper, chairman of the Department of American Studies at the University of Hawaii, "and clearly there are some aspects of it that one doesn't like as well as some other aspects, but on balance I think it's a healthy thing."
Hooper sees a perceptible increase in campus patriotism, although "not a wild demonstration of concern, by any means," as well as a more subdued mood among students.
"One can find the fringes, the extreme reactions -- you know, 'Fry the Mideast.' And then on the other side there are those who say they don't give a hoot -- 'I've got more important things on my mind, such as going out dancing on Saturday night.' But those are the fringes. I think the mainstream is somber and serious to a degree we haven't seen in some time."
Michael Dixon, a Kaimuki resident and proud flag-waver, says such circumspection is warranted and should be preserved. That's one reason he flies an enormous flag mounted on a pole atop his VW van. Wind and weather have taken their toll on Dixon's Old Glory, but he's not taking it down anytime soon.
"People are starting to forget about 9/11," he says. "At first a lot of cars had flags, but now it's like it's all quieted down. New headlines, different things happening. But we can't forget. There's going to be -- it isn't an if, it's a when -- another terrorist attack."
Indeed, anecdotal evidence suggests that the initial surge in patriotic buying has slowed, but local merchants still report strong sales.
"Of course, when everything hit, you couldn't keep it on the shelves," says Andrea Nordell, a cashier at the Fisher Hawaii office products store on Cooke Street, which now has an entire "patriotic supplies department."
"It's slowed down, but we still sell a lot of Schaeffer patriotic pens, and we've sold out of a lot of sizes of shirts. Key chains are real popular, and stickers seem to have picked up again."
Asked why there's been such an explosion of interest in these products, Nordell had only to look down at her own feet. "I wear shoes in patriotic colors when I'm on register, and I have a patriotic Christmas tree still up in my bedroom with red, white and blue lights. You just want to show your support."
Support is a word Janice Souser hears a lot. As floral designer for Craft Supply of Honolulu on King Street, she's concocted quite a few patriotic wreaths, bows and mailbox decorations since Sept. 11, some elaborate, some simple.
"Customers say that they just want people to know they support what the military is doing," Souser says, "and that just because they're local people, it doesn't mean they don't care about what's going on."
Understandably, Souser sees more overt patriotism around her home in Fort Shafter; she's been an Army wife for 27 years. But things are different this time, she says. Passion for the flag is running higher all over.
"Maybe it's out of fear that we might get hit again. We don't really know if that's going to happen to us. We pray that it doesn't, but nine times out of 10, it does."
Finally, there are as many motives behind patriotic purchases as there are items to buy, which is why a chat with Mary Phillips, owner of Flags Flying in Ward Warehouse, is such a fascinating experience. On the front lines of America's new lust for patriotism, she's a sociology textbook waiting to happen.
"It probably will be one of the more memorable experiences of my life," she says of those heady days following Sept. 11. "None of the people that came into the store bought the flag because everybody else was. For each one of them, it was a personal expression."
One man came in with his wife and children, "and you could see it was a major expense for him. When I told him what the different prices were, you could see the disappointment in his face. It was obvious this was a lot of money to him. But it was very important for he and his family to have that flag." Phillips eventually located a lower-priced flag of similar quality, and the man was elated.
"And then some just wanted the loudest, most dramatic expression of America they could find," like the guy in the military who wanted to drape it over a building. There were some "real aggressive, 'Osama bin Laden, look at this' types, and there were others who just love America and needed this sign to express a love of country."
Phillips' eyes well up as she remembers the past 4 1/2 months, her mind momentarily unable to come up with the one word that describes them. And then she finds it.
"Need," she says. "They needed to have that flag. It wasn't like they were going out and buying a new dress. They needed it.
"You know what it was? It was like if they touched the flag, America was still here."