The Flag

I think Norwegians love their flag, even more than they love their own mothers.  I’ve never experienced anything like it.  They beam with pride as if watching their child take its first step.  Maybe it has something to do with that first step they took away from their tie with Sweden back in 1814, or that the Germans wouldn’t allow it’s presence at all during WWII.

Unlike the flag in America, that can fly anytime, the display of the Norwegian flag is highly regulated.  I’ve noticed, just by being a parent, when something is restricted, it creates a greater desire for that thing – so maybe that has something to do with their intensity for it.

Attached to every flag for purchase is a card with all the rules surrounding its use.  I know America has certain rules around its flag that probably only the Boy Scouts know by heart, but in Norway, everyone knows them.  Norwegians are big time conformists so no one would dare break their sacred rules.

To begin with, the flag is only allowed to fly outside everyone’s home on national holidays like New Year’s Day, Easter, 17^th of May (their Constitution Day), Labor Day, Pentecost and Christmas.  It’s also allowed on the birthdays of the members of the royal family.  The flag is only allowed to fly at individual homes if there is a birthday in the household, or if someone is getting married, baptized or confirmed.  It’s also allowed to fly at half-mast if someone has died.  The State Church flies it at half-mast also, but only during the time of the funeral.

The time of day the flag is allowed to fly is also very regulated.  During the winter months, November through February, it can’t be hung out until nine in the morning and must be back in by nine at night.  The rest of the year it can come out at eight o’clock, except for those folks that live way up north – they are only allowed to fly their flag from ten in the morning until three in the afternoon.  I’m sure some of them move further south for that very reason.

It’s as predictable as the church bells on a Sunday morning, at the exact moment the hands of the clock strike the hour, front doors open, and flags appear.  I’m sure everyone is standing just inside their door like a runner at the starting gate, waiting to be the first one on their street to fly it.  Everyone has a flag pole.

Inside every home is a smaller version of the flag, displayed year round, 24 hours a day.  Thankfully, no one controls that flag, yet.