I was in Cyprus, watching the Inaugural events on television with Greek Cypriot and American friends. The images were clear: millions of people in Washington, D.C. and beyond, watching, moved by the moment; the emotional responses, even in our group, to the visual "change" in American politics; the hope that united us all, that our world will be a different place because of our choices. Of course, the Greek voiced-over descriptions of the ceremony, speeches, and swearing made the particulars of language unintelligible. But, it didn't matter. It was a patriotic moment, shared across the continents.
On the evening of July 16, 1969, I was in Zurich,
Switzerland, standing in front of an electronics shop, watching Neil Armstrong step onto the surface of the moon. I didn't understand the comments from the television screen then, either, but I was aware that I had become part of a bigger, world community. And, I was so very proud to be an American. There is something wonderfully poetic about sharing these events away from my home, my home town, home state, home country. I realize that we are not where we live, but how we feel.
Right now, Lee Greenwood's "Proud to Be an American" is reverberating through my being, and for the moment, I'm a member of the Stars and Stripes brigade, waving my flag, standing tall, hopeful for the future--for us all.
