Sometimes I remember Fouth of July's of long ago with sparklers and hot dogs. There were a couple of parades when I rode in an open car or upon a float. I stood at  a Civil War cemetery dedicated to those who served in our town and listened to my child who was in the band play the flute while marching in for a ceremony.

There were times that I remember visiting Arlington National Cemetery and watching men in military uniforms passing through, some pausing at graves, some kneeling. I remember chaperoning a group of boys in grade school who came to get an award for their science participation and having their picture taken with a man decorated with ribbons and medals on his uniform in that same cemetery.

Once, when I was standing in the street in Wenceslas Square, Prague watching the celebration parade in the the  1970's of the October Revolution, I came close to soldiers of a different kind. I was cold but in my heart I was a bit frightened. I knew I was an American, Iknew I was different.

Standing in front of the ovens at Mauthausen, a concentation camp in Austria, I sensed the remanent of indifference to the victims who  perished there by the workers forced, starving and brutilized to burn their corpses, soon to suffer that same fate themselves. I thought of how terrible this time was and how hopeless it was, and yet, Americans helped win that war against such hatred. I felt great empathy for the victims and solidarity with the people who fought the oppressors. I felt that Americans were different because they were such a group of so many different people, cultures, traditions and yet, united in how they wanted to be treated and how they expected to be treated. I felt American.

I could write more, but the thing is my idea of the moment I felt most American is much more than a moment. I have, for my own reasons, a sense of pride in my country and I strongly identify with it on many levels.

I feel most American when I think of my experiences with other nations and cultures and when I get angry at what our politicians are doing and I am confronted with all the things I think are wrong in this country too.

When I recognize that I can say these things, feel these things and have the opportunity to do something about them, that is being truly American to me. 

Our nation has evolved greatly from the time of the very first Fourth of July. It is yet evolving. Our feelings for our nation evolve too as we approach new challenges and difficult times, there is so much to overcome, and while it is burdensome, and seems never ending, it is in no way less or more than some of our great struggles of the past. I think of civil rights, equality, and so much more. 

I feel most American when challenges are faced and obstacles overcome, when order is fought for and fairness restored. I feel most American when I wake up each morning and recognize I live in a place where I can help make the changes that are needed. I am not a bystander, I am a participant. I am an American and no one can feel what I feel, unless they are one too. It just is not possible.

I am not awash in patriotic colors and blinded by their light. I see the cracks in the systems, the warts and the scars. I know that if I don't see them, I am not being an American. To see is to know, to realize and to strive against the indfference and be a part of the change.

So, I am going to eat my hot dogs, my potato salad and chips, watch the kids frolic in the pool and thank my grandparents for immigrating here and making me a child of a great nation. I owe them and myself the attitude of can do, and I will do it. I will work to make this nation the best it can be and the continued beacon of freedom it once was in this world of ours.

Have a Happy Fourth of July. I'll be thinking of you all when the fireworks cross the sky and light up and glimmer with my hope for each of us, AMERICANS.

Copyright 2011 by SheilaTGTG55