Loving My Country

My Gramma Polly wrote out something that she wanted to be read at her memorial service when she died (my Dad forgot about this and found it AFTER the memorial service, but I'll try to make up for that, in some small way, here).  I have a copy of it somewhere and I can't remember what it all said, but I do remember it saying something along the lines of "I loved my husband, my kids and my country."  

When I first saw this (it was a little over ten years ago), I thought it was kind of weird.  Not the husband and kids part, but the part about loving her country.  I mean, we all love our country, right?  Isn't that a given?  Did she really love it so much that she'd actually want it mentioned at her memorial service?  

I found that note again when we were moving a few months ago, and after not seeing it for close to ten years, it resonated a little differently this time.  I kind of got it.

Maybe it's because I have kids now.  Maybe it's because of 9/11.  Maybe it's because I am older and the older I get, the more grateful I am for what I have.  I don't know what it is, but I feel a stronger connection to my country and my freedom now than when I was younger.

My Papa and Gramma never took their freedom for granted.  Gramma was born in Texas (all I remember from her stories was that they had dirt floors, and yes, they had to sweep them).  They lived through the Great Depression.  They ended up in a house my grandfather built just a few blocks from the beach in Carlsbad, CA.  I vividly remember an American flag hanging next to the plantain tree by their front door.  

Papa (Lewis Chase) served in World War II (I found the picture below at www.40thbombgroup.org - he's the one in the aviator glasses):

I imagine, when I see this picture, that Gramma and Papa knew a thing or two about sacrifice and patriotism.  It seems to me that their entire generation was invested, somehow or other, in their country.  

I don't feel like we have that today...I feel like there is a great divide and a sense of entitlement when it comes to our freedom.  We all want it, but only a few are ready to step up and fight for it.  The rest of us just get to enjoy the fruits of their labor, and rest easy at night while they do the dirty work.  

My grandparents had a strong grasp on what they were fighting for.  They didn't take their country for granted.  They knew, each and every day, that they were lucky to live in the US of A. And my Gramma was so thankful for that, she didn't want us ever to forget it (which we almost did, thanks to my Dad losing her note).

So in honor of veterans everywhere, and in honor of veteran's families (and my Gramma), I am grateful for my country.