Summer Solstice Moon
Some heat. A few flags. Fireworks. Gotta be the 4th of July.
In summer my thoughts often turn to our nation, its history, its struggles, its meaning. Something about ice cream, watermelon on the front step, fried chicken that stirs up thoughts of Bunker Hill, Paul Revere, Antietam, Shiloh, O, Pioneers. Often I follow those thoughts into books or movies, then at some point later a journey.
Like one I took down to Vicksburg to better understand the Western campaign and the true battle that determined the war. Or, that time I stopped in Abilene, Kansas to see Eisenhower’s library and later in Independence, Missouri to see Trumans, then Springfield, Illinois where I saw Lincoln’s grave, the historic district, the new library and the village. Just this year I wandered through Mount Vernon and saw the Washington and Lincoln Monuments. Again.
This time, this year not so much of a jolt, U.S. history seems dormant for me right now, though the coming of the 4th does nudge me some. Over the years I’ve been part of the radical left critique of Amerika, cruel hegemon, flawed defender of freedom and liberty. And most of those critiques were true. We keep down the poor, set aside people of color and women, too often intervene in other countries when we should stay at home, tending to our bridges and roads and epidemics and children requiring villages.
Yet now, older and more rooted here. A devoted Midwesterner of some 66 years residence. Yet now, I find this country my country and I do love it. No, that does not mean I’ve slapped a love it or leave it bumper sticker on the Rav4. It simply means that this is my home. That I am an American, a citizen and a proud of these United States.
If love means unquestioning obedience to the government, then, no, but if love means standing alongside no matter what, without giving up the right to act as a citizen must, then yes. These are my people and I am of them.
Here’s an interesting look at what it means to be an American now by scholar Terry Eagleton. Worth the read.
