God Bless America

I am the daughter of an American history teacher.

My childhood summer vacations were spent not at Disneyworld but being dragged across the country touring Civil War battle sites.  Only too well do I remember angrily stomping around Antietam in the pouring rain, furious that my parents weren’t like my friends parents, furious that I couldn’t be at the beach or meeting Belle and Jasmine.

In my family, even seemingly unrelated and mundane points of life are compared to history.  Just the other day, I was talking to my mom on the phone and I asked her to give me a word of encouragement to help get me through this semester.  She responded,  “These are times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”  Truly, I can’t conduct even daily chores without being reminded of those who came before us.

This has at times been a curse and at times been a blessing.  And at times, I have scoffed at my family’s belief in American exceptionalism.  My interest in foreign affairs instilled in me the idea that America–whether it is great in government or governing philosophy–shouldn’t exclude itself from the principles it asks of others.

I spent the last year living in Jordan, where I watched firsthand Jordanian parliamentary elections and observed the American primaries from abroad.  The Muslim Brotherhood boycotts the Jordanian elections (as they have for almost every election since elections were reinstituted), and because of the culture and the “one man, one vote” policy, bribery is rampant.  It was here, at this time last November, that I again began to appreciate our own American history.

In Jordan, and in the Middle East in general, change doesn’t hold the same meaning as it does for us.  Change in the Middle East means failure, means change of a regime, means change of a ruling power.  It doesn’t mean change for the better.

Here, tonight, I am reminded of American’s history and of the human stain on our past.  Only 27 years ago, the last lynching occured in America.  And yet tonight, in these great united states–only twenty-seven years after that sickening and disgraceful event–we elected the first black man to the highest position of government in this nation.  We have much to be ashamed of in our history, but we also have much to look forward to.

Watching McCain concede the election, I am ever more humbled by our nation’s strength.  Every four years, we hold elections that leave one man the winner and one the loser.  But regardless of our beliefs, regardless of our political persuasion, the day after the election, we all dry our tears of sorrow or joy and restart the work we believe in.  Tears are shed, but blood is not.  Because in this nation, we see change not as a burden to bear but as force to fight for.

As Obama said, “Block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand…”  And one fine morning… So we swim forward, salmon against the current, fighting ceaselessly for a better future.

I can’t be more sincere tonight when I say that I’m proud to be an American.

God bless you all, and God bless the United States of America.