Why I Love America

Ididn’t always love this country. I was a self-absorbed teenager in the early 1970s and attended a large Midwestern university where everything I believed in was ridiculed.

Suddenly my hardworking, middle-class parents seemed provincial. My dad, a World War II veteran, wore polyester, drove a Chevy, and didn’t have a college degree. But now I did. I ran around barefoot in tie-dyed shirts and took my every freedom for granted. I didn’t know my father’s war stories—he never spoke about them and I never asked.

After college, I wandered the country and into Hawaii, loose and carefree. I joined a self-actualization cult disguised as an international nonprofit. Later, I married a legal immigrant from Austria. Every day, he would mention something he loved about this country.

When we traveled, he was amazed that there were no border checks between states, that you could drive across the country and no one would know where you were. He was in awe of the open spaces and the generous spirit of our citizens. When new friends invited us into their homes for meals and to spend the night, he was in shock. And garage sales, those astounded him.

I saw everything through his eyes—open house potlucks, church buffets, and smalltown parades. Everything I had grown to look down on, he embraced. He loved that the government served the people and not the other way around.

When my husband studied for his citizenship test, I quizzed him and started falling in love with our history, our Founding Fathers, and the Declaration of Independence. I had learned much of this in school, but I wasn’t paying attention back then. Now, this history had a special meaning as seen through the eyes of my husband.

I began asking my dad about his service in the war. He flew bombing missions over Europe in a B-24. Wounded by flak, he was hospitalized for almost a year. The day after he was wounded, his entire crew was lost. I was humbled and moved to tears. My love and respect for him grew.

As a news reporter, I began interviewing every war veteran I could find, featuring their stories every Memorial Day, Veterans Day, Pearl Harbor Day, and D-Day.

When we opened our first business in 1985, my husband was again in shock at the lack of red tape: no standing in lines, no endless forms to fill out or huge fees to pay.

“I could never open a business in Austria,” he said over and over again. “If your family doesn’t own one already, you have no chance.”

Our small community grew to love Hermann. He’s an unabashed lover of this country and freedom, and he told everyone. He had lived and worked throughout the world before we met, so he had experiences to back up his passion for freedom. His parents grew up under Nazi conquest and oppression in a small village near Vienna, and he was raised in the Russian sector of occupation after the war. His grandmother cooked for the Russian troops.

Although solidly middle class, we have traveled the country and the world. We have provided our children with college educations, and because of the opportunities given to us here, we feel like the richest people in the world.

He still says, and I agree, “This is the greatest country in the world.” •

American Essence wants to hear from you:

Why do you love this country? What makes it worth celebrating? What moves you about the people and places that make up America? Tell us in an essay of about 600 to 800 words. For instance, you can focus on one aspect of the United States; take a big-picture, comprehensive approach; or tell an illustrative anecdote from your own life. We welcome you to send your submission to Editor@AmericanEssenceMag.com