Fourth of July

Each year as th 4th of July approaches I remember different experiences from years past. As a young child I remember sitting in the stands at Cashman Field in Las Vegas, with my family, watching the fireworks. As a teenager we sat on the beach at Port Hueneme, California, and watched as fireworks were shot off a barge floating out past the end of the pier.

Despite all those memories one that always comes to the forefront is July 4th 1976. At that time I was 19 years old and living in Valencia Spain. I had a roommate, Phillip, who was also from southern California. I remember waking up on the 4th of July and complaining to him that all of the United States was celebrating the bicentennial that day and here I was half way around the world. Life was unfair!

As was his way Phillip quietly went about the morning without responding to my complaints. Finally, as we had left our apartment and walked to the bus stop Phillip had had enough. As we stood on the sidewalk waiting for the bus Phillip spoke to me in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. "David, turn around", he said, "look where you are standing." Turning around I looked at the front of a cathedral which we passed every day. "So," I began, "it's the cathedral, so what?" Then with great patience Phillip asked me to read the placque next to the front door fo the cathedral.

I was a little surprised, for more than a month I had walked past that cathedral every day, I had noticed its architecture and detailed craftsmanship, but I had missed the little placque. I don't remember anything else but one line, "dedicated, June 2, 1365".

The rest of the day anytime I started to think about missing all the bicentennial celebrations at "home", I reminded myself that while I was missing that celebration I had an opportunity to experience world history. To be in buildings that had been erected long before the United States were even discovered, let alone organized. It didn't make me any less patriotic, or unAmerican, but it helped me gain a little perspective.

The only other thing I remember about that say is that evening. The Ice Capades were touring Europe that summer and on that evening, July 4, 1976, they were in Valencia. Phillip and I were in that audience, experiencing something which at that time was purely American.

I am grateful for the opportunity I had to learn, at that young age, that there are other important cultures and societies in the world, more importantly, there is history, important history, which predates our own.

National pride is not unique to the United States. I awoke one morning in Valencia and looked out my window to a sea of young men, soldiers, camped in a field across from my apartment close to the harbor. It was almost scary. A little while later, as I left the apartment to begin my workday I heard a small group of voices begin to sing, "Que Viva Espana", within a minute another group joined in and before I had walked a block I heard the entire field singing, "Que Viva Espana". I am sure that in each country around the world there have been similar experiences.

This Fourth of July, and every day, I am proud to be an American. But, I am also mindful, and proud to be a citizen of the world.