I don’t know why, but for some reason the sight of an American flag waving in front of someone’s house gives me the creeps. I imagine the homeowner sitting in an easy chair just behind the door wearing a pair of boxers and a wife beater and holding a very large shotgun. And a beer.

Oh. And he/she voted for George Bush.

I can’t explain it. I don’t know why American pride makes me think of Republicans, Nascar races and shooting ranges; it just does. (Sidenote: Please do not send anthrax to my house).

Personally, I don’t know how proud I am to be an American. Lucky, yes, I am very lucky. Luckier than I ever knew until I began to see the deplorable conditions so many people live in around the world. The depression, the poverty, and the lack of opportunity. For that, I am so grateful. At the same time, however, I can’t be proud of the way my country has acted these past few years. I can’t walk into a restaurant in another country and feel proud to tell everyone there that I am from America. Instead I walk in fear hoping they won’t know. Read More »