It is not uncommon to see British soccer hooligans or, for that matter, Princes William and Harry, don shirts, waistcoats, or even boxer shorts emblazoned with the Union Jack. The Brits, like most Europeans, think nothing of wearing their country’s flag as an article of clothing.

This coming Sunday, if you happen to watch the finals at Wimbledon, you’ll notice that the tablecloth under the tournament’s trophy is the Union Jack. So it isn’t exactly easy to explain to a European why an American would never do such things with his country’s flag.

The reason, of course, is that most European countries have all sorts of flags — royal standards, really — bearing the arms of their nobility. These standards are separate and distinct from the ensigns or flags flown by the common folk. Surely no Englishman would consider wearing, especially as boxer shorts, the royal standard of the Windsors.

Tomorrow we celebrate the fact that no such distinctions exist here in America. There is no rigid class structure and nobility, no royal standards, and only one flag. It’s a flag that we can all claim as our own. And like the nation itself, it’s ever-changing: If there were a 51st state, we’d find a place for its star in the blue canton.

Which is why, as we approach Independence Day, it’s time to practice some basic flag etiquette. It’s all spelled out in the United States Code, the permanent laws of the land. Title 4 of the Code, Chapter 1, outlines the federal rules and regulations governing the display and treatment of our flag.

Section 8 of this code instructs us that “the flag should not be dipped to any person or thing,” a reminder of how easily our Olympic teams have ruffled international feathers over the years by not dipping the flag during opening ceremonies. Perhaps the most breached, and least understood, laws governing our flag are these:

“The flag should never be used as wearing apparel, bedding, or drapery.”

“The flag should never be used for advertising purposes in any manner whatsoever. It should not be embroidered on such articles as cushions or handkerchiefs and the like, printed or otherwise impressed on paper napkins or boxes or anything that is designed for temporary use and discard. Advertising signs should not be fastened to a staff or halyard from which the flag is flown.”

Are these rules simply relics from a stodgy, bygone era? Hardly. How we display the flag of our nation is a direct reflection upon us as citizens. Of course, vexillologists, those who study flags and their histories, are especially keen on display details.

For example, there’s a store on the Upper East Side that is currently selling an American flag beach towel. It’s sad to imagine that someone would throw this towel down in the sand, lie on it, and use it to dry off after a swim. In fact, adding insult to injury, the Fourth of July display in this bed-and-bath emporium uses the flag towel as a tablecloth as well.

The final section of Title 4 captures the essence of why the American flag is so important — and so different — from any other flag: “The flag represents a living country and is itself considered a living thing.”

The exceptional nature of our country and its flag wasn’t lost on the founding fathers. Consider what Benjamin Franklin wrote in his post-war pamphlet, Information to Those Who Would Remove to America, an effort to advertise the wide-open American nation to the best that Europe had to offer.

Franklin wrote that in America “people do not enquire, concerning a stranger, What is he? but What can he do? If he has any useful art, he is welcome; and if he exercises it and behaves well, he will be respected by all that know him; but a mere man of quality, who on that account wants to live upon the public by some office or salary, will be despised and disregarded.”

Franklin was attempting to explain to a muddled mass of European peasants and nobility alike that hard work, intelligence, and character are what matter in America. Social advancement by flying your family’s standard — however prominent your family may be — means nothing.

“The people have a saying,” Franklin wrote, “that God Almighty is Himself a mechanic, the greatest in the universe; and He is respected more for the variety, ingenuity, and utility of His handiwork than for the antiquity of His family.”

We may or may not have been born in America, but we are all borne of it. And even though we live in a bustling and diverse nation, we have one splendid banner that binds us all together.

Mr. Akasie, a long-time vexillologist, is a contributor to The New York Sun.