It is the Fourth of July. An old veteran puts on his medals and makes his way to the park where Independence Day celebrations have already begun. He is greeted by the inviting aroma of hamburgers and bratwurst cooking on portable grills, and the sounds of happy voices floating out over the grass on a warm summer breeze. The park is full of picnickers gathered around tables and sitting on blankets under the trees. Children are playing on the swings and slides, and chasing each other around the merry-go-round. There is a softball game on the diamond in the far corner, and splashing can be heard as swimmers cavort in the waves along the beach. A band begins to play patriotic songs from a stage which has been set up next to a statue in the center of the park. Later there will be fireworks.

The old veteran smiles as he takes it all in, and then he carefully maneuvers himself into a spot where he will have a good view of all the activities. He takes out a sandwich and a small thermos of coffee. Then he settles back into his chair to watch and enjoy.

After a while a group of young people comes by. They select a spot under a maple tree, not far from the old veteran, and spread an American flag on the ground. He knows immediately that they intend to use it as a picnic blanket. Anger wells up inside of him. How could they use the flag that way? They take out food and beverage and pass it around over the flag. Then they begin to eat and drink and talk and laugh.

The old veteran is not alone in his anger. Others nearby have noticed the young people and their flag. Murmurs of disapproval are heard all around. Soon a group of irate picnickers comes over to confront the young people. One man yells out, "I fought for that flag! I will not see it abused like that!"

"Hey man, it's the Fourth of July. We're just showing the colors."

"Not like that, you're not. The flag is not supposed to touch the ground."

The sound of their impassioned voices can be heard all through the park. People come from every direction to see what the fuss is about. Before long there is a large crowd gathered around the flag. The shouting continues, with both sides getting louder and louder. Someone goes to call the police.

The old veteran can stand it no longer. He rolls his wheelchair in the direction of the angry crowd. There are so many people now that those on the outskirts cannot see the flag. Latecomers are not sure what the argument is about. The old veteran pushes his way into the center and shouts, "Enough!"

The crowd becomes quiet, more from the unexpected sight of an old man in a wheelchair than the sound of his booming voice. Their eyes go immediately to the stumps that stick out over the seat just above the place where his knees used to be. And then they see the medals pinned to his jacket -- the purple heart and silver star. They watch in awe as he raises himself up out of his seat with arm muscles hardened by years of pushing and pulling the wheels on the chair which is his home every waking hour of every day. When his head is almost even with the faces of those who are standing over him, his eyes look down at the flag and he says, "This is not what it's about. It's what it stands for. Freedom. Freedom to choose. Freedom to be."

Then he lowers himself back into his seat, and as the crowd parts he wheels away back to his original spot.

The picnickers go quietly and quickly back to their families. The young people continue their meal around the flag, and the old veteran watches and waits. Soon it is dusk and the fireworks begin. The dark sky explodes with color as rockets go up, one after another. Then comes their noise, boom, boom, boom. Somewhere out on the lake someone sets off a string of firecrackers. Their ack, ack, ack hits the old veteran's ears like the sound of machine gun fire he remembers from the war almost 50 years ago. For a moment he is back in the battle with shells exploding all around him. He hears the cries of the wounded and sees the faces of the dying. He comes to himself in time to see the grand finale, the colors red, white and blue emblazoned across the sky in the form of a flag. "Yes," he whispers to himself, "for freedom."