“Give me an old-fashioned 4th of July
With a big brassy band and parade passing by
Old Glory shining red, blue and white
Waving so high, what a patriotic sight!” — S.C.A.
When the corn is as high as an elephant’s eye, I am ready for the 4th of July. Each summer brings with it a surge of patriotism. To live in a land where one can travel in freedom any day of the week still amazes me, especially after living in countries where this was not always so. Overseas, I could never hear or sing “The Star-Spangled Banner” of my heritage without shedding tears. Even to this day, when I place my hand on my heart and start to sing, the tears appear.
How lucky we are to cross from state to state without the sight of guards with guns at the border. No need for identification papers or a permit to pass. No rationing of gasoline. Stores open every day of the week.
I feel relieved to be able to show an officer my driver’s license without money taped to the back of it for emergency bribes I might need at any given moment while driving. Here in America, when being stopped by a policeman, there is a reason why.
I like to see speed limits posted and stoplights working. Lines painted on highways. When we lived in Guatemala, our daughter April came for her first visit. One morning we left the house to travel into the city to shop. The traffic was as thick as bedbugs in a cheap motel mattress. April commented, “Mom, I don’t know how you can drive here. There are no lines marking the lanes of the streets.” Lines? What lines? I had never had time to notice lack of lines. I was too busy dodging buses, trucks, motorcycles, taxis, fruit carts, and goats.
It pleases me to turn on the water faucet and always have water flowing, cold and hot. I relish the fact that meetings and movies start on time. Our guests arrive for dinner on time and not an hour or two late.
I love the fact that I can walk into a public library where there are books filling the shelves and they are not censored. While living in Malaysia, our Time Magazine always arrived with blacked-out spaces on certain pages. The newspapers printed only the news the Prime Minister approved they could print. While living in some countries, we had to depend on relatives to call and tell us just exactly what crisis may have occurred in the city we were living in at the time.
I love America. God bless America. And he does.
The longer I lived away from America, the more I learned to love my country. Three cheers for the red, white, and blue. Give me paved streets and phones that work. Give me concerts, plays, movies, and museums, and Broadway musicals praising this land of my birth.
To live in a country where churches abound. To stay in a hospital where I don’t have to provide my own bedding and food. To be able to shop in a supermarket where there is always milk on the shelves. What luxury, my America. Thank you.
This summer you can holler me up some bold patriotic slogans. Bumper sticker my car. Plaster a poster on my telephone pole. Pack me a picnic basket. Break out the fireworks. I am going to celebrate my patriotism.
Happy 4th of July, America!
