I’m proud to be an American. I’ll
let that sink in. Now, before you read any further, think of the first image that pops
into your mind when you read the sentence “Proud to be an American.”Before you assume that I’m going to be someone who goes way overboard on this topic, let me
tell you why It is that I am proud to be an American.
Let’s
be honest with ourselves here. Most people who say that “I am proud to be an American,” are
probably the ones who run their yap a little too much. They are the ones you see on T.V and
cringe as they are outspoken, arrogant, brash, and rude. They are
probably the ones who get in arguments just for the sake of it. As to their main argument? “America is better than any other country because We ARE better.” Wow. Sound logic there buddy. Way to make us seem even more arrogant. I've seen those
types before. They’re also the ones who you see arguing the “We-were-here-first theory.” Again, astounding comprehensive reasoning skills. Little known fact though: Most all of us as Americans are descendants from
immigrants there champ. You missed that memo. And my personal favorite, the “Other-culture’s-don’t-think-or-act-like-us-theory.” C’mon now that gets
old real fast. So I can understand why sometimes we as Americans can get a little ashamed in saying we are proud to be American. We don’t want to be wrongly associated with that group of Arrogant
Americans (as I call them), so we hide. I’m here to say we should have a humble,
appreciative pride in our nation.
Before I explain why I am proud to
be an American, let me say that this does not have anything to do with
politics. So for those of you who were thinking that I was going to go off on one party or another, sorry to disappoint you. This writing will hopefully have nothing to do
involving current debates that have been going on in our country
(i.e.-Gun control laws, gay marriage, abortion, etc.) No, my pride of being an
American goes way deeper than current debates.
A couple weeks ago, I had the opportunity to
travel to our nations capital- Washington D.C. It had been several years since
I had been to D.C. It’s funny as you grow older how you begin to appreciate the
value in things. The museums and monuments that I ran past as a kid with not a
care in the world were now places that I wanted to spend all day at. Yes, I
actually wanted to go in buildings and museums. Again, I guess it’s true what
they say-as you get older you learn to appreciate things more. Instead of
seeing stone monuments and going on to the next thing, I took time to listen,
sit, and observe.
By the time we hit D.C on the first day, it was
pretty well dark outside. As we got unpacked, several of us decided to walk
around the city that night. It shocked me how D.C is very much a working
district, and how the tourism dips in the colder months. As we walked around
D.C at 8 PM on a windy, December night I couldn't notice how quiet it was.
Barely any cars moved on the streets and in the distance the capital loomed, brilliantly lit in the night. I don’t know what came over me, but
right at that moment I realized again how proud I was to be an American. Similar to DC residents, anyone who lives in
a place like D.C would probably get bored of seeing the capital. Something
about that building, the history that took place in that building made me once
again proud.
Another moment that stuck out to me was when we visited the World War Two
memorial. I had never seen it before, and if you haven’t seen it I
highly encourage you to visit it the next time you go…heck, Google image it to
get the idea. It encompasses you from all sides when you walk in. Something
about being in it was so peaceful to me as I sat, yet I felt very close to the tremors of a war that
almost nearly ripped apart our nation and the world. As I sat quietly reflecting,
an elderly man with a cane slowly labored by and went up to one of the slabs
where there was a state name etched in. He silently wept as he traced his finger in
the concrete outlines of the state, and then moved on to the next state name. He did
the same thing, and then moved on to the next. I sat in a state of shame and amazement, because
I had no business to be even watching him. I felt I was intruding upon his private moment. But I continued watching him. To me, the memorial was a symbol of achievement in conflict that symbolized a part in which
America had helped in. It was put and constructed with the greatest care. Every stone, rock, slab, and concrete had it's place in re-constructing hallowed memories. To him, this was something greater than just concrete
and a pile of rocks that were put together. It was a silent appreciation of a sacrifice
that happened a very long time ago. I
watched as the elderly man slowly finished his traces and walked away. Nobody
noticed him, but I will never forget for as long as I did the moment that I
witnessed.
That is
why I am proud to be an American. Simple sacrifices that good people make for
each other every day, and the hard work of their efforts. It sums up what an
American is and should be. I firmly believe the spirit of America does live on,
and it is up to us as Americans to be o.k with making sacrifices for each other,
and helping others. This is what America was built upon and the foundation has
been laid deep down by those who came before us.
Yes, I
know, America is not perfect nor will it ever be. Yes, America and we as
Americans make mistakes. We need to get better at certain things, and help
others out more. I’m not a politician and thank the Good Lord I am not. However,
I believe in hard work and the spirit of helping others out. I believe that the
foundations in which America was built upon have shown out throughout generations
and generations of those who helped build it to what it is. We are the ones
entrusted now to make sure that the spirit of America lives on. So as I type in this moment,
I am proud. For I realize how fortunate I am to grasp what it truly means “Proud
to be an American.”