No. 47

The Elders in 1840 & The Flag

Dear Stewart,

By the 1840 your grandmother, Mary Ann Pratt had been married to Henry Brother now for 14 years and knew him to be a man of politics. The Pratts and the Brother Family agreed that William Henry Harrison, a Whig, would certainly win, for his campaign was like no other.

All over there were displays of support for the hand-colorized merchandise, spirited songs, and hard cider. And so 13-year-old Valentine Brother was delighted when Mary Ann’s brother, Ira Pratt, showed off his campaign flag that Thanksgiving.

Ira was home on break in his final year at Rensselaer, where he was studying civil engineering. He was a handsome and serious student, but when he held up that colorful flag against his face, Mary Ann thought he was too pale.

As he was hunched over the dining room table with Val, admiring the flag, she patted him on the back and swung him around. With urgency, she cupped her hands around his forehead, neck, and chin, tugging on his lower eye lids, and announced that the show-and-tell was over. She led him to the sick room.

Now all the children understood that their spare stage to be lost, only a month before the Christmas pageant. Their costumes would have to come out now and so they began to pack up their props and drag out their capes.

As Mary Ann tucked him in, Ira confessed that he had gone on a geological excursion with his class.

"I overslept the night before. I rushed to meet the boys and forgot some of my gear and clothing," Ira confessed.

Mary Ann asked, "I suppose you were an angel the night before?"

Ira said, “That’s when I was out getting the flag.”

Mary Ann said, “And nothing more were you getting?”

But she kissed him, knowing that Ira could not disappoint, that Mary Ann could not disappoint. That everyone had to fall in line at this moment. Mary Ann and Henry, his foster parents—the Rices—Val and all his other nieces and nephews. It was a fighting season.

Mary Ann said, “Great sacrifices were made to get you to college. And here you are causing worry.”

Ira sighed, "Oh Mary, thank you for being all-in-one, so pulled-together, all these things a loving mother, a warm sister, my best friend, and—even though you can’t make up the difference—a Whig."

A few months later, Mary Ann Pratt left her children in the other room to glare over the newspaper about details on how President Harrison died. It was due to his improper clothing and shelter during his inaugural address.

She threw the newspaper in the fire, even before Henry and Val had a chance to clip it. They would have clipped a copy for Ira, but he too was dead. Died before learning that Harrison had won.

What this country might be if virtuous men knew how to dress! How to take instruction for how to stay dry!

This was on her mind as her youngest was screaming for comfort, for something, like she was, crying for something to open or dawn on her.

The flames flapped, licking up the paper in seconds, which was too fast for her attachment to her feeling, which now was more like hours. So, she reached for that stupid flag, still ignoring her now hysterical child, but she hesitated, held the flag tighter. It was not hers to burn. It did not belong to her.

And when the crying child was at last lifted, Mary Ann Pratt felt the lightness knock her heart into place and she pulled herself together.

Stewart, that flag fell into the hands of your Uncle Charles, who shared it with the boys at the GAR Lodge in Des Moines on temporary display. I saw it when your mother brought it out of storage. Did you ever see it?

— Miss Minnie

2025 Copyright Christine Friesel