America has a Birthday going on...

     We live in a pretty great country where we have the freedom to dress as we like, say what we want and live our day to day as we see fit. Freedom is a word that can easily be taken for granted and feel like a right instead of a privilege. As Americans there is an openness and freedom for the everyday that can be hard to grasp if it's all you've known. It's easy to feel entitled to being able to do what you want, when you want when that's all you have been exposed to. But our freedoms, our rights are not to be taken lightly.
 




 









     Nine or ten years ago I spent about seven weeks in the middle east. The majority of my time was spent in Israel, but I also did short treks through Jordan and Egypt. While in Jordan I had the opportunity to stay with Bedouins, nomads of the desert, in Wadi Rum. While at camp a few of the local men had asked me to sit and join them for tea and a chat. There were maybe a half dozen men ranging from mid-30s to late 80s. We engaged in conversation about religion, politics and ways of
 life in both the middle east and the United States. They were baffled by my independence, not being married and that I financially supported myself. My lifestyle and outlook on life was the antithesis of theirs. Jordan was much less conservative than Egypt in their views of women, but drastically different from the US. As a woman, you are viewed more as property expected to be covered almost head to toe projecting modesty, driving, voting and voicing your own opinion is out the window. Freedom is a beautiful thing.

     The summer before my junior year of college I spent some time in Minsk, Belarus. The aftermath of Chernobyl and communism were present in everyday life. As Americans we expect nothing less than 32 options for variety of bread, 89 options for ice cream flavors and there is even endless variety with what type of milk we buy. The first time I visited a grocery store in Minsk it made me feel like a total tool. It was mid-afternoon and I wanted to pick up some snacks for the next week. I strolled down the bread aisle to only be greeted by an empty shelf. There was no bread left and there was no snow storm on the way or tornado. I asked the clerk if there was any bread in the back, foolish question. Bread was delivered twice a week. There was only white bread. The same went for milk and fruit. When the product was out it was out until the next delivery. Variety and abundance were two foreign words. Freedom is a beautiful thing.

      A short time after  my return from Belarus I went to a Yankees game. It was the first time the Star Spangled Banner ever meant anything to me. Every word, every note hit my inner core. As the flag waved and I placed my hand over my heart I started to cry. I was so humbled at the fact that I was born in a country with freedoms I never before grasped or appreciated. Freedom is a beautiful thing.
 

   Our freedoms and our independence did not come without cost. I am profoundly grateful for the countless who presently serve and have served in order to make the soil we walk on what it is. I am proud to be an American. Be proud, be grateful and know that as fireworks streak across the night sky and blanket line the grass that your freedom is a beautiful thing.