When I was a young child growing up in Concord, I would spend my Saturday mornings navigating the streets around town. If the weather was warm, perhaps a swim in the old granite quarries would be the destination. If the weather was cooler over rainy, I would wander towards downtown to meet with my friends and explore. Sometimes we ventured to the Concord Public Library while other times we would visit the New Hampshire Historical Society.
The New Hampshire State House was always open and provided some rather interesting adventures. The tunnel beneath the street that joined the annex with the state house was always intriguing and provided some wonderful acoustics to the youth of our time. But my most memorable Saturday mornings at the New Hampshire State House were spent in the Hall of Flags.
I would gaze for hours and never grow bored looking at the battle-scarred flags that represented our great state and nation. They were tattered, torn and riddled with holes — imagining the holes were caused by musket balls and bayonets further engaged me. Each flag honorably displayed in the glass enclosed cases from floor to ceiling featured a small plaque that told about the flags. For a youn...