I am what I like to refer to as a “Patriotic Liberal”. Now I know, there’s a few of you out there who truly believe that when you look up oxymoron in the dictionary: “patriotic liberal” is the second synonym listed for the word…or at least it should be. But that’s okay, I can take it. This world takes all kinds and would be boring if we all thought alike. I usually steer away from political discussions, for obvious reasons, I’ve learned this lesson the hard way since I’ve moved back to Nebraska. The only reason I’m bringing it up is because something happened to me the other day that just stopped me in my shoes and I’ve been wrestling with my feelings about the occurrence ever since.

I was out and about, shopping on a weekend and there was quite a mixture of nationalities and age groups mingling around. I was simply minding my own business, window browsing and people watching as I tend to do; when one of the young “ladies” in the clique of teenagers near me threw out a hand/finger gesture and yelled something derogatory about America…in a language other than English. Coincidentally I’m able to translate some of the vernacular she was using…..at least enough to know the “cuss” words…and what she said was coming out loud and clear.

I found myself incensed. She and her friends were obviously not hurting for meals, they were wearing jeans that I could not afford at their age, and they were “hanging out” at the mall on a Saturday and having fun. It just made me wonder; what negative thing did America ever do to them? There is probably so much I don’t know going on behind her statement and it, most likely, isn’t politically correct to look at this situation the way I did initially….as I said; I’m wrestling with my feelings here.

To maintain my own inner balance and to keep the positive energy flowing I would like to share with you what America means to me and why this young woman’s vehement statement struck such emotion within me.

As a teenager, I never thought much about patriotism. I think I was like any other young kid and I took all that we had for granted much like my young friend I mentioned above. I found myself in basic training at the age of 19 because I needed the work and wanted something more from my life but I’m sure I didn’t join to “fight for my country” like the brave and courageous young folks do, who join up and “re-up” now or the veterans who fought before them. Toward the end of my training in lovely San Antonio, our TI took us out to a stretch of lawn which was special because there were consequences if one ever stepped on the grass. I remember the sun beginning to set, we were exhausted from our day, it was ridiculously hot for this Nebraska girl and I can still remember that feeling of torridity just rising off the concrete, thus the lawn was considerably cooler. To the west of us sat a B-1 Bomber; a truly gargantuan machine, monumental I remember thinking. The mixture of orange, fuchsia, and yellow of the evening sky behind it created a breathtaking scene on it’s own, so much so, he could have just let us silently gaze at the sunset, with the plane in dark contrast, and most of us would have probably realized the message he was about to spell out. I guess he had had a bad day: his troop was kind of falling apart at the end of the six weeks of training so he took us out of our situation and I believe his intent was to help us realize why we were there. He told us about the friends of his that lost their lives defending his country… our country. He reminded us to think of those loved ones we personally knew, he described to us his career which began in Vietnam and his father’s career which got its start in Korea. Then he confided in us how proud he was of each and every one of us for making the choice to protect our beautiful country and our American way of life. We were all crying by the end of his talk, including him. We watched the sun set to dusk behind that beautiful, massive, vital piece of history and then we slowly strolled… in step of course, back to the barracks in silence except for our collectively soft heal-beat… all of us pondering what had just happened and understanding our higher purpose for the first time in our military careers.

During this patriotic time of year; let’s focus on those things we take for granted and put some extra effort into appreciating them, taking steps toward sharing this level of appreciation with our visitors and new Americans. For me it’s all about family. Picnics and potato salad with the men in aprons at the grill side, women setting out the food and swatting eager hands that want to sneak a taste of the frog-eye salad before anyone yells “Come and get it”. The kids screaming and laughing as they run through the sprinklers, pieces of freshly cut grass plastered to their legs, each in possession of a fully loaded water gun at the ready. It’s the discussions surrounding the past with those of the older generations and now younger as well: veterans recalling those frightful times in combat as well as what it was like not knowing whether or not they would ever see their girlfriends, wives, or first born every time they embarked on another mission. We proudly wave our American flags at every doorstep, in their honor, on every flagpole in every small town, big city and farmyard. It’s that confidence we have knowing we are under no threat; you have the right to say what you want and practice any religion that moves you without repercussion. The law is specifically spelled out and if you act within it; you are literally free.

I hear the stories of the anguish suffered, the separation of families, and the injuries endured in order for people to get into our country. I have listened to individuals tell the story of their war-torn country and how fear existed as a part of their everyday lives until they made it to American soil where they no longer live with that panic and anxiety that their children might not make it to adulthood. These stories remind me of those told by the parents and families of every one of our troops fighting in Iraq and every other “war” of our history fought to preserve and spread those freedoms that we Americans hold dear.

I see and hear the similarities.

This I believe. We are all here for the same reasons; we all want the same freedoms and opportunities for a better life that only America can offer. Instead of wrestling with my feelings about the tiny comment I overheard from that young lady, I believe I should have done something to be a better example for her. In retrospect, I should have made the effort to study and learn the language so the next time I will know exactly what she is saying; possibly it wasn’t what I thought I heard. I could have interjected and explained to her how her comment hurt me and why….and maybe we could have talked it out and ceased to perpetuate the disdain for which she and her group of friends seemed to feel such passion.

Being an American is about acceptance of differences. People of different cultures living side by side and working together, congregations of divergent religions coming together to help where and when needed. It’s about being a good example and teaching tolerance to our children so they grow up without fear or malice toward their neighbors no matter their place of birth or their race, it’s about freedom for us all.

The family gatherings around this time of year are fun and memorable as are the fireworks displays and small town parades. I encourage each of us to spread that patriotic spirit we feel when we are looking up at the splendor and listening to Lee Greenwood, every day to all of those around us. Through education and example, the true spirit of America will prevail, but it starts face to face and one on one, not through television and impersonal email forwards. It’s my view that it’s every American’s responsibility to sow the seed of patriotism and every American’s reward to watch that love of country grow and flourish amongst everyone who is born here or makes the conscious choice to begin a new life here with us.

—–North Bend Eagle, 10 July 2007