When I think of my beautiful, noble country, I can’t help but wonder, how can one not love America? I’m a U.S. Air Force veteran. I’ve seen this splendid country “from sea to shining sea,” and the United States fills me with awe—not just for the beauty and breadth of its terrains, but because of the ideals on which our country was founded.
I come from generations of American heroes. My paternal grandparents were immigrants from Italy (who ended up in upstate New York), nary a penny to their name, never having completed even a grade school education. Their son, my dad, went on to become the first in his family to graduate from high school, then college, and then medical school. He put on a U.S. Army uniform and took the Army officer’s oath of office. If something hadn’t been done before, he’d give it a moment’s thought and then come up with a solution. He’d never sit around waiting for someone’s help. That’s his all-American moxie.
My maternal grandparents spent a majority of their lives in El Paso, Texas. They may have each begun their lives in an impecunious manner. But they became exemplars of the all-American family because they worked smartly for their American Dream. My grandfather was a “Greatest Generation” hero, having served in the Army, fighting bloody battles in Europe and beyond, including Operation Avalanche in September 1943 on the beaches of Salerno.
His war wounds left him partially disabled, and he needed to use a cane for the remainder of his life. That never prevented him from standing for “The Star-Spangled Banner.” He bled red, white, and blue for our beautiful America. He and my grandmother raised proud American citizens. Their sons are Army veterans, and their daughter a staunch supporter of our U.S. Constitution and the Judeo-Christian values upon which it is based.
There was never any doubt that I would carry my family’s American pride and ingenuity forward. I, too, put on a uniform, raised my right hand, and promised to protect and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic.
I was on active duty in Tucson, Arizona, on September 11, 2001. After seeing on TV the horror and destruction of terrorist attacks on our homeland, I had the privilege of working alongside America’s finest to defend this country. We answered our new battle cry of “Never forget!” As a logistician, I supported my fellow military members in the fight to protect the United States.
In the days following 9/11, we were all one: a single American front, overflowing with red, white, and blue, and looking out for each other. Just like our predecessors, we lifted ourselves up by our bootstraps after the heinous terrorist attacks and presented a united American front to defeat evil. We were all, figuratively, brothers and sisters across the whole of our nation. Everywhere you turned, there was Old Glory. First responders were still treated like the heroes they truly are, especially in New York City, where many lost their lives running toward danger, helping our fellow humans.
The following year, I left the beauty of the Southwest, with its burnished bronze landscape, mountains, saguaros, the fresh petrichor after a monsoon, yipping coyotes, raspberry- and grape-colored clouds at sunset, and the comforting warmth of Mexican food. I was now stationed near Concord and Lexington, Massachusetts, rich in history, where the fight for our ideals initially began with “the shot heard ’round the world,” and where Minute Man National Historical Park now stands as a tribute to our brave predecessors who fought in the Revolutionary War.
Nothing can beat the beauty of the Northeast in autumn, trees decked out in their finest: fiery reds, golden yellows, burning auburns. There’s also the scent of bonfires, hot apple cider, and Revolutionary War reenactors on the Battle Road Trail recalling the heroics of our American forefathers. Heading east, you’ll see the USS Constitution, the oldest commissioned naval vessel still in use today, in Boston’s shipyard. Nearby, you can get the freshest seafood while experiencing the briny breeze off the Atlantic. The country, still reeling from the effects of 9/11, was coming back to her feet, stronger than before.
During my tenure in the Air Force, I lived all over the country, enjoying each area’s unique characteristics. I loved meeting folks from all over and appreciated the hospitality of those whom I met. Whether it was accepting a grocery bag full of citrus fruit from a neighbor’s backyard trees, touring historic areas in Boston’s Little Italy, or soaking in the beauty of the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, I witnessed how America was full of unique stories and backgrounds.
This is what makes us Americans. We are not cookie-cutter citizens. We choose our own paths that highlight our God-given gifts, whether it’s as writers, farmers, doctors, artists, or teachers.
Our indomitable spirits will never quit—and our American Dream is always well worth the effort.
