We'd commented on it when we'd first noticed them.

No way these flags are gonna survive.

If these flags memorializing American soldiers lost in Iraq and Afghanistan were placed every mile down this stretch of highway, more than two-thirds of them had been blown away or knocked down by the time we saw them.

And the highway crews hadn't even started mowing yet.

Mowing the grass at the edge of our highways is a necessary task. Since most of our winter snows come down sideways, even six inches of leftover summer grass will leave a drift halfway across the road. So once the grass cures and goes to seed, the crews come out and start mowin'. Down to an inch or two.

All those memorial flags are gonna go bye-bye.

Which, since these are actual little flags, not replicas, makes abandoning them out here in the desert kinda disrespectful, you know?

On my way north to collect the flight transponder, I noticed the crews were well on their way to having the entire highway mowed for the winter. And I saw only one surviving flag.

Right exactly at milepost 28.

On the return trip, I stopped again at milepost 28.

The wife was also out of town that day, in Capitol City. The heelers and I beat her home by hours, her not arriving until well after dark. But the first thing she said to me the next day, after glancing at our flower barrel, was...

"Did you steal that flag?