I Am An American

There are many methods  by which we instinctively identify ourselves.  Probably the way I do most often is by saying, "I am a New Yorker."
Granted most of the years I have been blessed to spend on this wonderful earth have been outside of the city limits.  Yet my roots have always remained on those beloved city streets of "the neighborhood."  Oddly enough, the ancestry seemed to have grown stronger through the years.  However, that ended this week.
Memories are such strange things.  They emerge involuntarily without warning, and always for a reason.
Last night watching the culmination of the search for the Boston terrorist, my mind suddenly went back more years than I dare to count.
I was suddenly transfixed into a hot summer afternoon in Central Park standing in a crowd with my younger sister and Dad waiting for the ceremony to begin.
It was, believe it or not, "I AM AN AMERICAN DAY."  The park was filled with families, all thrilled with this display of patriotism and joyous with pride in their country.  Everyone waved flags, and once the music began, voices from the spectators filled the air.  Many of us were dressed in the patriotic colors of red, white and blue.  We were united in our pride of being American.
Last evening as I sat and watched the ongoing events in Massachusetts, I saw the streets lined with families waving flags and applauding the parade of law enforcement personnel leave the scene after a successful capture of the second terrorist. Suddenly remembering that day so long ago, once again I was filled with pride in my country, my fellow citizens, and the joy of being an American.
Yet I had to wonder, why is this so unusual?  What has happened to us that it took an act of terror to make this affirmation of patriotism so powerful.  It was not so unique those many decades ago.
New York City has always been a melting pot of cultures, religions and ethnicity.  On that afternoon almost seventy years ago standing in the May sunlight in Central Park, we were a melange of all God's people, yet united in being American.
So in the future, if I am asked who I am, after giving my name, I will no longer say, "I am a New Yorker," but rather, "I am an American."  It was a lesson I learned a long time ago, and I am sorry I forgot.
The citizens of Boston have taught everyone in this country a lesson with their spirit of courage and ability to behave in the midst of an unparalleled crisis.  They will be remembered as Americans, and hopefully, so will I.
God Bless America!