pieces and ponderings

I went through a patriotic stage as a child.  I don’t think this is a typical childhood stage that most pass through, but I could be wrong.  I have  never heard other moms talking about their children being the in “patriotic stage,” where they only wear red, white and blue clothing, and put posters of presidents and national monuments on their walls, but this is what my mom had to deal with.  My own children haven’t followed suit, though there have been replicas of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution on a bedroom wall at one time.  (I just went and looked and the Constitution replica is still on the wall.)

Anyway, sometime between the ages of 9 and 10, I was very patriotic.  I wore a lot of red, white and blue.  It was the ‘70’s, so I even had striped red, white and blue pants AND red, white and blue suede shoes.  Oh, I almost forgot, I also had a red, white and blue bowling ball as well.  Yes, it was extreme…possibly obsessive.  (My kids are going to tell me that I was weird.)

I visited our nation’s capitol twice as a child and there are pictures somewhere of me standing in front of national monuments, decked out in my patriotic everyday wear.

I loved reading biographies of U.S. presidents and other historical figures…I found them interesting and inspiring.  (My kids are going to call me a “nerd” also.)

I don’t know where this love of country came from that grew in me, but it was there…and I’ve always loved the Fourth of July…Independence Day…the birthday of  the United States of America.

I was reminded of all this the other night, when my family and I attended the Freedom Fest celebration at Fort Rucker, near our south Alabama home.  The Lieutenant Dan Band, with Gary Sinise, performed a good concert and there were fireworks that my family enjoyed, along with a few thousand other folks.

As the band played their closing song, Lee Greenwood’s “I’m Proud to be an American,” the crowd rose to their feet and sang along.  I felt a little awkward at first and then  I looked at my husband standing beside me singing…and the crowd of servicemen and women and their families that surrounded me…and I thought about my husband’s military service and that of his brothers and our nephews…and I sang a bit louder.

Then the fireworks began with oohs and aahhs from the spectators.  I was sharing a chair with child number 5 and we commented on the size and colors of the bursts of light at first…then we just sat in silence, as we drank in the beauty of the display.

I was thankful to be sitting close to my family, celebrating our country together.  I am proud to be an American, though I don’t wear red, white and blue very often any more.  I am thankful for the nation in which I live and the freedoms we enjoy here.  We are a blessed nation!

  Happy Birthday, United States of America!