The following column is the opinion and analysis of the writer:

On Thursday, I went for a morning walk in my neighborhood, greeting neighbors from behind my mask with a cheerful “good morning,” with more than one agreeing it was, indeed, a “beautiful January day. A little cold.”

And then, walking past the school, the barking dogs, the church and the jogging mom pushing her stroller I saw it and stopped.

I was never startled by the sight of it before. But now? The perilous now? The sight of the “Trump 2020” flag hanging limp in the cold, on a neighbor’s porch left me transfixed. Was it posted proudly? Defiantly?

An old familiar couple walked by. The old man, a veteran, tipped his cap. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I replied.

They didn’t look at the house once. Ignored it. Perhaps it’s better to ignore such a display of allegiance to violent insurrection when you’re just starting your day.

I shrugged it off and as I continued walking down the familiar streets of my neighborhood, I couldn’t stop thinking about my neighbor. Does he still believe the lies? After the carnage, the death, the treason? How could he? At Christmastime his light display is the most beautiful in our whole subdivision. He has three cars, a truck, a boat and a huge home. What has America not given him?

Is he enraged? Armed? Is his family proud or embarrassed by his public defiance of reality? Years ago I noticed a blue star hanging in his picture window. He smiled when I talked over his fence about the Master Sergeant and I asked him about his son and thanked him for his service.

I like his mailbox. I always wanted to ask him where he got it. What lands in his email? What toxic lies does he peddle or forward with glee and didn’t every lie contribute to this precarious moment for our nation?

A hawk on a telephone pole reminds me I went on this walk to marvel at natural beauty.

My frantic mind wanders back to that house. If this were Munich in the ’30s would he proudly fly the Nazi banner after Kristallnacht? Or after the burning of the Reichstag? If this were Honolulu would he fly the Rising Sun after Pearl Harbor? If this were April 1865, would he fly the Confederate flag after Lincoln had been killed?

This is the neighbor I envy for his drip irrigation system and his beautiful roses. I told him so years ago. If I knocked on his door would he say, “We’ve talked before. I don’t believe we’ve formally met. What’s your name?”

Would he call me an “Enemy of the People,” a traitor to America? Would he repeat the countless epithets, insults and threats I’ve gotten from his fellow true believers — for years? Does he get threats? Common ground? Would he slam his door, shouting, “Get off my property?”

Would he call me divisive? I play it out in my mind. Would he ask me “Whatever happened to ‘malice toward none?’” Ha. I’d point out Abraham Lincoln said that after Union forces had annihilated the Confederate insurrectionists and crushed their “civilization” into rubble. And then I’d panic for my life, remembering the NRA sticker I’ve seen on his truck with the gun rack.

I check my Fitbit, step around the flattened jack rabbit and keep walking. Does he care that a pro-Trump, Capitol Hill cop got his skull bashed in by a pro-Trump thug? Or is that fake news?

Does he agree with the failed plans to harm or kill Mike Pence and Nancy Pelosi or is that fake news? Will he be at our state Capitol with a pitchfork in the next few days? He has a rake. I’ve seen him rake his gravel. We exchanged waves once. I smiled and shouted, “Nice yard!”

Does he curse Twitter and Facebook and my paper? Would it be a waste of time to point out our First Amendment right to free speech doesn’t apply to private enterprise, that my “free speech” is subject to censorship by my publisher? Is he desperately searching the web for messages from Trump right now?

I went on this walk to escape the madness. Quail scurry ahead of me and I focus on what a beautiful winter day it is.

My restless mind circles back. Does he feel persecuted? Does he have a clue how persecuted his Black, brown and Muslim neighbors felt every time they ventured out into his America for the past four years?

Let it go. Give him the benefit of doubt. I tell myself we both love America.

I tell myself we’ll get through this.

And I tell myself when I get home from my walk I should post our flag in front of my home. Good idea. If only to warm myself with the sight of our stars and stripes on a cold January day.

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David Fitzsimmons: tooner@tucson.com.