Just celebrating July 4, I started reminiscing about my days as a new officer in the United States Air Force. No one in my family ever served in the military and I did not know what to expect. I was sent to Shepherd Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas which I affectionally called, “Salute School. We, nurse recruits, received our uniforms and learned the basics of being in the military. After two weeks, I was ready to line up at attention where the colonel in command reviewed the ranks at reveille. I was all decked out with my fellow trainees in my USAF dress blues complete with gloves, hats and mirror-worthy shined shoes. When I heard the bugle and watched the flag slowly raised up the flagpole, I started to weep. It was an ugly cry complete with drips leaving my nose and landing on my deeply starched blue shirt. Just as that happened, the Commander past by me, whispered in my ear, “Lieutenant. you may wipe your nose.” I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry some more. That was the beginning of my journey of having a passionate patriotic mission to serve this amazing country. I love my country and believe it is the greatest place on earth. My ancestors were legal immigrants from the poorest parts of southern Italy landing at Ellis Island and living cloistered in an Italian neighborhood in New York City. They worked in the textile mills of New York and had a second job being caretakers of the building in which they lived. They made clothes for others as a side hustle, bartered at the food carts of Manhattan, raised their families, followed the rules, learned English, saved, sacrificed, and eventually purchased the building. The American Dream was theirs.
Along my journey of patriotism, I learned, there is a quiet strength that pulses through the heart of America. It beats in the dusty boots of the soldier who stands watch so others may sleep in peace. It echoes in the hands of volunteers rebuilding communities after disaster strikes. It whispers in the classrooms where teachers light the spark of freedom in young minds. To be American is to inherit more than a place, it is to carry a destiny. It is to rise with responsibility, act with generosity, and safeguard the sacred trust of self-governance that makes liberty not just an ideal, but a living reality. America is not perfect, but it is profoundly good. Those who call her home have every reason to be proud.
As a world traveler, there is no country like America. America is the most generous nation in history. Each year, Americans give hundreds of billions of dollars to charity, not just through large institutions, but in small acts of compassion. Whether it’s feeding the hungry, building homes for the poor, or sending aid to victims of natural disasters around the globe, Americans show up. We lead the world not just in economic output, but in heart.
This country was born in defiance of tyranny, shaped by a belief that people should rule themselves, not be ruled by monarchs or dictators. Our Founding Fathers staked their lives on the radical idea that rights come from God, not government, and that the people are sovereign. This gift of self-governance, of choosing our leaders, shaping our laws, and having a voice in our destiny, is rare in human history. Billions of people today still live under regimes where such freedoms are a dream.
To be an American is something in which to be proud. In the quiet dignity of a free people lies the hope of the world. America is a place where dreams are born not from privilege, but from grit. Be part of building, not destroying, part of giving and not taking. Be proud to be an American. Our freedom is not just a gift; it is a sacred responsibility. God Bless America! joneen@narme.org