Independence Day

When my family and I first moved back to the United States after 3 years in Heidelberg, Germany, I found myself unable to fit in with many of my fellow Americans.  Often, I was annoyed by the attitude of entitlement many of them exuded.  Mind you, I was mainly exposed to teenagers, so my view of a typical American was slightly skewed. 

It was fall of 1991, and I had just left a country which, after decades of division, had reunited in front of my eyes.  The Berlin wall had come crashing down, and thousands of East Germans flooded the streets of our town.  Tent cities were erected as people searched for shelter and long-lost loved ones.  Parades were held, and as Military Americans, we were tearfully thanked wherever we went for our part in their freedom. 

As a teenager (and barely, at that), I was humbled.  During Desert Storm we had been on constant alert, watching the threat level rise and fall by the hour.  There were soldiers with M-16’s on school buses, roof tops, at the doors to our apartment buildings, making sure we were safe.  They worked tirelessly, and yet, as kind as I was to those soldiers, it bothered me that they were there.  I didn’t want to have to answer to 10 different people if I wanted to walk to the park.  I hated that it took an hour to get to the post office, because it was on base and all people and cars were searched.  My German friends were no longer allowed to come over, because they didn’t have proper identification.

But what I gained, as my family donated all the clothes, food, and time we could spare to our new neighbors, was perspective.  These people were grateful for the ability to walk down the street, to hug, to speak their minds.  They slept on cots and had limited access to toilets, but they were thankful.  We proudly watched them assimilate into the Western way of life over the months that followed.  The first ever German Reunification Day was on my birthday, and I had never been a part of such a celebration in all my life.  It changed me in a way I can’t begin to describe.

On the Fourth of July, as the United States of America celebrates its Independence, I remember those people who experienced independence for the first time.  I try to recapture that euphoria, and say Thank You to a country that has provided me with the Sweet Life I have.  To be American implies so many things.  But most of all, it shouts FREEDOM.