Who I am

I have been composing this post for days now and it's still not the way I want it.

Great way to start, eh? Are you INTRIGUED?

But I can't wait because even though I'm a perfectionist I'm also IMPATIENT. So there we are.

First things first. Do you know what I am? An EXPAT. That's right. An EXPAT. It is the nickname - short for "expatriot" - given to all people living outside of their native country. I believe it dates back to Jeffersonian times. They say they gave Franklin the nickname when he decided to take up his revelry in France on a more permanent basis. ("They" are very smart people, don't you think? They know EVERYTHING. And aren't required to prove it.)

But I have never liked this name. EXPAT. It sounds ... negative. Like someone got fed up with their country and jumped on the next plane. They are NO LONGER a patriot. Used-to-be-but-not-anymore.

Ahem.

pa -tri-ot. noun. a person who loves, supports, and defends his or her country and its interests with devotion.

Friends and comrades - I am still a patriot.

Right now, sitting next to me, is "A Patriot's Handbook," a collection of songs, poems, stories, and speeches that represent America. It is 647 pages and I have read it many times. (To be frank, it sits on the computer desk for a reason. When my internet is slow it keeps me from frantically pushing the escape button - because that helps, you know.)

And here's the facts.

I cannot read the Declaration of Independence without getting chills.

I cannot sing the "Star Spangled Banner" without crying.

I cannot speak of our country without pride.

Old Glory is flying high in our yard right now - through the Brazilian sunshine or monsoon rain she flies -

I believe in America.

I believe in the idea of America.

I must have been asked exactly three thousand times if I like it better in Brazil or America. I look them in the eye and tell them I bleed stars and stripes.

I must have been asked exactly five thousand times if I still like Bush. Yes, I do.

I must have been asked exactly ten thousand times if I like our President Barack Obama.

Yes, I do.

Today I read his speeches. I looked at every picture, and

too.

Because I believe in America.

I love that in America everyone on your street is eating something different for dinner. I love that every American has the right to vote - or not to. I love that Americans believe in justice, respect the law and villify those who don't. I love that in America we may have opposite opinions, heritages and educational opportunities - but we still live side by side.

Anna Quindlen: America is an improbable idea. A mongrel nation built of ever changing disparate parts, it is held together by a notion, the notion that all men are created equal, though everyone knows that most men consider themselves better than someone.... It was built of bits and pieces that seem discordant, like the crazy quilts that have been one of its great folk art forms, velvet and calico and checks and brocades. Out of many, one. That is the ideal.

Brazilians ask me what Americans eat. What we watch. What we're like.

I have no answer.

We are all different, but the same. All cut from varying fabrics but still part of a whole. Blacks whites gay straight left right. We may still fight. We may still judge. But we're still Americans.

And today, thousands of miles away from the National Mall, I am still a PATRIOT.