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MEMBER DIARY

“Home”

As I reflect on our nation’s birthday and think about our plans for tomorrow – grill a burger, apple pie & ice cream* for dessert, Bible Study, fireworks – memories of past Independence Days bring to mind parades, flags, fireworks, and music. Always the music. I grew up during a time when most everybody attended a local birthday party for the good old U.S.A. As we waved our flags, we sang in unison. Political sides didn’t matter. America the Beautiful, This is my Country, America, God Bless America, the Star Spangled Banner, You’re a Grand Old Flag, the entire military medley, and in later years God Bless the U.S.A. There was nary an objection from anyone, much less an entire group like the ACLU. We were and are patriots. We love our country and those who sacrificed for her and us. We consider ourselves blessed to live in the land of the free and the brave. Yes, I know it sound clichéish (is that even a word?), but it’s true. I’m not ashamed to say that I still get choked up when I sing those songs, whether it be “sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing,” or “God Bless America, my home sweet home,” or “from sea to shining sea,” or “to the hills of Tennessee.” Tomorrow night, I plan to wave my flag, sing along with the music, and shed a few tears as I watch the “Thunder on the Mountain” (Vulcan) fireworks in honor of America’s Independence Day.

They say home is where the heart is. On this July 4th, and those past and present, my heart is and always will be with the United States of America.

“Home”
(written by Dierks Bentley with Dan Wilson and Brett Beavers)

West, on a plane bound west
I see her stretching out below
Land, blessed mother land
The place where I was born

Scars, yeah she’s got her scars
Sometimes it starts to worry me
Cause lose, I don’t wanna lose
Sight of who we are

From the mountains high
To the wave crashed coast
There’s a way to find
Better days I know

It’s been a long hard ride
Got a ways to go
But this is still the place
That we all call home

Free, nothing feels like free
Though it sometimes means we don’t get along
Cause same, no we’re not the same
But that’s what makes us strong

From the mountains high
To the wave crashed coast
There’s a way to find
Better days I know

It’s been a long hard ride
Got a ways to go
But this is still the place
That we all call home

Brave, gotta call it brave
To chase that dream across the sea
Names, and they signed their names
For something they believed

Red, how the blood ran red
And we laid our dead in sacred ground
Just think, wonder what they think
If they could see us now

It’s been a long hard ride
Got a ways to go
But this is still the place
That we all call home

It’s been a long hard ride
And I won’t lose hope
This is still the place
That we all call home.

*Well, I learned something new. I was all ready to say something clever about not referencing the French version of pie and ice cream on our American holiday only to learn that Pie à la Mode was created in New York. See WikiPie.

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