Well, That Was Interesting

A Saturday Snippet

My Paul will probably be ashamed of me for saying this (which I guess counts for me being ashamed of myself, since the two are supposed to become one in marriage, right?), but I guess it takes national tragedy for me to get at all patriotic. I don’t really know why this is, unless it has something to do with having spent some of my earliest years in another country altogether. The most patriotic I’ve ever been was when I lived in that other country, and thought that the United States was Heaven because:

  1. You had to fly to get there.
  2. You could drink water out of the tap.
  3. “Everybody” already spoke English.

I get that our country is unique and I appreciate the benefits that I get from living here (though probably not enough), but I guess I derive my identity in other ways, so when other people get all misty-eyed or fist-pumping about the good ol’ USA, I sort of glaze over.

I also feel that images of bald eagles are really cliché.

But I’m not going to deny that I felt a little misty-eyed and fist-pumping along with everybody else after they caught Dzhokar Tsarnaev last evening. It was a strange and tension-filled day, even though my Paul and Alicia and I all went on a day trip, and the denouement was a relief. I have friends in Watertown and I could certainly appreciate the sacrifice of time, sleep and personal safety of the security units running around after this kid all day. Like most of the other people in this neck of the woods, I was proud of those people, even though I don’t know them.

Take THAT!

Take THAT!

I’m also not going to deny that I’m hoping that what appears to be true really is true, and that our pair of bald eagles have, indeed, moved into the neighbourhood to stay.


2 thoughts on “Well, That Was Interesting

What's your story?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s