June 1981--I was not yet 30--and my pals and I drove south in my pickup to go camping and fishing and to climb the Seneca Rocks.
In rural West Virginia, I had a truck window replaced.
The auto shop installed a flag license plate on my truck.
I didn’t ask for it but I thought it looked cool,
and I didn’t stop to think what it meant.
Even with my education it did not register back then
the racist oppression this symbol represents.
So I have a suggestion for a flag to honor the Charleston Nine.