GLASGOW — This is my country! Land of my birth! / This is my country! Grandest on earth! / I pledge thee my allegiance, America, the bold, / For this is my country to have and to hold.

I am a patriotic soul and when I thought about my favorite patriotic song, “This Is My Country” ranked at the top. It makes me think of flags flying around the square, church choirs singing “America, the Beautiful” Fourth of July weekend Sunday, and fireworks igniting from sea to shinning sea. That is why my favorite thing to do on the 4th is to follow the TV coverage of celebrations across our nation and reflect on the journey from 1776 to today.

Like most of you, I was born in America. Like most of you, my ancestors were not. I live in the same county where I was born and, until I left for college and later married, in the same white frame house my parents built when I was only a few months old. My mother still lives there and it is “home.” I hold my roots dear and I hope my children do as well. We Americans live by our roots.

What difference if I hail from North or South / Or from the East or West? / My heart is filled with love for all of these. / I only know I swell with pride and deep within my breast / I thrill to see Old Glory paint the breeze.

When Americans go abroad, they quickly recognize other Americans as brothers or sisters and grab a slice of home. “Where are you from in the states?” There is no North, South, East, or West. They are American comrades in a foreign land. I feel that way when I am vacating far from home and I spot a man or woman wearing a Kentucky shirt. We might be in the middle of Disney World, surrounded by Minnie and Mickey and all the other little critters, but if I spot that shirt, I am bound to ask the person inside it, “Are you from Kentucky?” If they are, we are sure to someone in common. If not, he will have a story about the shirt and how he came to own it.

With hand upon heart I thank the Lord for this my native land, / For all I love is here within her gates. / My soul is rooted deeply in the soil, on which I stand, / For these are mine own United States.

As long as I was going to school, I stood proudly as my teacher led our class in the Pledge of Allegiance. The flag was always on a stand at the front of the classroom. Every student placed his hand over his heart and didn’t stumble over the words, but recited them clearly and with a tone of sincerity. If not, the teacher would have quickly wanted to know what the problem was. Those days are gone.

Flags on stands in front of classrooms have been replaced by small flags stuck on the side of a board with tape (not in all cases but many that I have seen.) Some classrooms have no flags. A few leaders probably bring one out and dust off the spiderwebs for graduations, but most of the time that is the extent of the flag waving.

A flag does fly in front of all schools and a few students are in charge of raising it and taking it down, but I don’t think most students are aware of this being done each day. We take this act for granted.

Kids are not required to stand during the pledge and certainly don’t have to recite it. My last year in the classroom, the majority of students in my homerooms did not say the pledge and did not stand. They weren’t making a statement; they were just too lazy and the pledge was meaningless to them. No matter how much I wanted to force them to stand, I knew I could not.

Within the gates of American are the people I love. I had never thought about our borders as gates. Gates open and close; they keep people inside and keep people out. Isn’t that what we do in America? We are generous with our open gates and keep them open for most immigrants, but we try to shut the gate to those who would cause us harm. Unfortunately, the demons manage to slip through in spite of our power.

This is my country! Land of my choice! / This is my country! Hear my proud voice! / I pledge thee my allegiance, America,_the bold, / For this is my country! To have and to hold.

I did not have to choose my country; it was given to my by nature of my birth. However, I am positive that if I lived elsewhere, I would wish to be an American. My life is about choices and having the opportunity to do whatever I wish within the law. I am not limited because I am a woman or because I am white or because I am older than I once was. This is my country and I will be a soldier for it as long as I live.

As each Fourth of July has come and gone, I am even more aware of the importance of that day in 1776 when the Declaration of Independence was read aloud with church bells ringing and joyous citizens in the streets of Philadelphia celebrating their independence. It was definitely a day worthy of fireworks and speeches and songs of patriotism. Happy Fourth of July!