Fourth of July flashback
When I was going through an existential phase in college many years ago, I used to ask, “What’s the meaning of all this? What is the point?”
Why was I born in South Carolina, in the United States, in this skin, and with this body?
“I could have been born anywhere,” I’d say. Why here? Why now? Why a woman? Why a black person? What does it all mean? I’m still seeking answers to some of those questions, but I know this: I thank God I was born on American soil, and he must have a good reason for making it so.
My country is a land of the free, home of the brave, but I used to talk trash about it and take for granted its freedom and opportunities. I saw the error of my ways, however. America is my homeland, and I have grown to love it.
Who cares what “they” say? Envy! Let them complain and criticize and demonize. For all its faults (which are legion), America is the freest, the best, the greatest, the most benevolent and charitable country on the planet.
It is my homeland, and I love it. Here’s to another 233 years!