Allison V. Morisano

My grandmother Glenda would tear up whenever a patriotic song would play. I can recall her face in awe at boatyard barbecues and in the days that followed 9/11 whenever Lee Greenwood or Toby Keith sang of our lands and seas. This pride and emotion has touched our whole family. The year Lady Gaga sang the National Anthem at the Super Bowl, my Uncle Anthony (an Army vet) and I both wept at her rendition. One of the best moments of my life was the minutes before a NY Rangers playoff game, as my brother and I witnessed The Garden’s flashing red, white, and blue lights while the crowd blessed America in unison.

I can go on.

Watching the Concert for New York in 2001 with the group of kids I grew up with in one house as “the grown ups” watched next door. Not fully grasping until years later that this group of adults were in the throes of grief, and the reason we spent so much time with these families was the fact that community heals wounds.

Being at Yankees Stadium on the anniversary of the attack on the Twin Towers as the crowd applauded the President and chanted “U.S.A.” I was pregnant with our first baby and couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for us all.

When my brother returned from a cross-country road trip during a summer that I was in college, his telling of arriving at the Grand Canyon on the morning of the Fourth of July as the sun rose and “America the Beautiful” played on the car’s radio has always stuck with me.

That one scene in The Sandlot with the fireworks.

Maybe I thought it was just about the music for a while. A good song always makes me cry. But I realize now it was more about pride. It’s easy to be emotional about America. Many people are, and for many different reasons in many different directions. It was luck that landed me here, and I don’t take that for granted.

I believe in American innovation. I believe in freedom of speech and the beauty of discourse. I am very proud to be an American.

Cheers to the next 250 years. 🇺🇸