Freedom to celebrate

I’m going to church now, where I go many Sunday’s and never take for granted my freedom to do so. And when I get back I’m going to write something about my grandfather, who flew a flag on his front porch and taught me respect for that flag, who told me stories of his immigrant grandparents who were so proud to be in this great country they never allowed their native German to be spoken again. I’m going to examine where my patriotism came from and why I effortlessly passed it on to my children, why I have rudely defended our military decisions, long before my only son joined the US Army. I’m going to try to explain to my son why this country celebrates and lives seemingly carefree lives while he sleeps with a weapon, and remind him that in our darkest hours we come together fiercely, as Americans, as the greatest country in the world and why that will always be the case. I’m going to remind my son of the heated discussion we had over his willingness to die to defend the rights of Americans to burn their flag and carry signs that say, “God loves dead soldiers”. I’m going to convince him that includes celebrations of taking out the enemy and celebrating Patriot Day to memorialize and remember one of our darkest days. The average American is not a trained soldier, the average American is what it’s always been – a farmworker, a steelworker, a factory worker and we revel in victory for our country be it large or small. Today we turn off the reality TV and we watch planes crash into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon and a PA field, even though it’s been ten years. We don’t forget. We don’t want to forget. American’s are reliving ten years ago with tears in their eyes and are very aware that brave men and women continue to fight terrorism in an effort to keep it far from our shores, and have succeeded for ten long years.

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