Being, Fortunately, American

Living outside of the U.S., even for just a month, where you are not surrounded by your fellow countrypeople (I refuse to use countryMEN…yea, go cry about it!) can push you to really hold tight to your roots. Perhaps this is a type of defense to the always asked question: so where are you from? Because they know that you are not one of them. Today, the 4^th of July, has made me think more about this part of my identity, the American part, the label that by minute two of any conversation overseas is self-stamped onto my forehead.

I have attended exactly 25 4^th of July celebrations to date and I have to be honest –  I am not always mindful of the spirit of the occasion. My attention would linger on other details; the weather, the fireworks, the red-white-and-blue attire, being the first in line for patriotic face-painting…you know, the important stuff.

Of course, without fail I would have moments when I swell with pride as I remember what this day actually stands for…the idea of what our independence stood for. The notion that, regardless of political stance, past and current mistakes, this day is part of our collective heritage. Part of my “I’m an American” label, part of my identity. These moments remind me to simply and joyfully celebrate this day as a part of my history which, in ways great and small, have influenced where I am now.

Which brings me to today. Today, I woke up in a country where the 4^th of July is just another day on the calendar. No fireworks, no red white and blue, no fly-by’s and definitely no face paint. It’s funny how being away from home can bring you closer to what matters. No distractions, just a day where, as an American, you have time to reflect on why you feel this day is meant to be special.

I can’t begin to describe how badly I would like to be home today. Sitting in the heat. Knowing that an entire nation is thinking, at least for a nanosecond, that had it not been for July 4^th 1776, we may not be sitting here right now.

But I guess, even when ‘here’ happens to be Melbourne, that still rings true.

So here’s to being, fortunately, American. Happy 4^th to all the Americans, wherever you may be.