Musings on Patriotism

I was asked to write a few paragraphs on patriotism or our country for my neighborhood (really the ward, but they distribute it to everyone) newsletter. It was surprisingly not automatic for me, but in the end I think it sums up how I think and feel about this complex topic, which has elicited responses as divergent as Nathan Hale's "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country," and Mark Twain's "patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel."

Just call me Daedalus, because I guess I fly a middle course on this one:

With the commemoration of our country’s independence just a few days away, one is hard-pressed not to spend a bit of time thinking about what that means to them, as an individual, in their heart, in their lives, in their choices. As part of that almost inevitable introspection, I have pondered on the meaning and the effect in my life of patriotism.
Patriotism is not wearing American-flag inspired pants. Patriotism is not some arrogant, ethnocentric belief that my country is the only good place to live on the planet and that, of course, everyone else wishes they were me, to live what and where I live. Patriotism is not a blind belief that the actions of my fellow citizens and the decisions of those in public office, whether local or national, are somehow infallible. I live in a democracy and that is the heart of it: my government, my country, my patriotism all ultimately come down to people.
Patriotism is a special brand of optimism. It is a belief that there is a potential for greatness in the land in which I live, a potential for greatness in my fellow citizens, and a dedication to foster that potential and nurture it as I can, both in myself and others, so that we can, as individual citizens, collectively become the nation we believe we can become—a nation that can nurture the world into becoming all that it can—a nation celebrated in the patriotic favorite, “America the Beautiful.” This anthem praises America for its glorious landscape, its heroic deeds, tempered with a realization that all is not yet perfect even as a stream of optimistic potential flows through it. It is to me always a reminder of what we have, and a vision of what we can still strive together to create.
I am a citizen with a patriotic gratitude for what I have, and a patriotic belief in a better future for my street, neighborhood, city, state, nation, and world—for this is an organic structure, one which cannot be limited to any one part of that greater whole. If I am truly patriotic I will love my neighbor, both the one whose door happens to be located next to mine, and the one who lives on the other side of this globe.

Happy 4th, everyone--we love you.