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Wednesday, July 4, 2007
A Patriotic Break
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
When I was 18 years old, I bought a backpack, a cheap plane ticket on Pakistan International Airlines and set off with my older sister to see Europe.
It was the first time I had traveled overseas, and one of the first things I learned was a bit of a curiosity. Everywhere we went, Canadians always displayed their flag, usually in the form of a patch on their backpacks.
Why? Well, I was told, they didn’t want to be mistaken for Americans.
This was a rude awakening — the first time I learned how much the rest of the world, or at least a good chunk of it, hated the United States.
One day, my sister and I wandered into a pizza joint just off the main square in Prague. This was the summer of 1992 and the Olympics were being broadcast on a TV inside.
My memory’s a bit cloudy, so I can’t remember exactly what part of the games we were watching. But I’ll never forget how proud I felt hearing the “Star-Spangled Banner,” and watching the American flag being raised during a medal ceremony.
I can still see myself standing there, staring up at the TV, transfixed. To this day, the memory brings tears to my eyes. After weeks of being cast as the hated, ugly American, I knew — for the first time, really — what patriotism truly felt like.
Now that’s something you just can’t learn in school.
