It's just the fourth of July...

It's a quiet evening at home tonight. No fireworks -- literally and figuratively. No parades. No grilling out in the backyard. No baseball, apple pie, or Chevrolets. No gaudy demonstrations of American pride and patriotism... It's just the fourth of July -- you know, the day coming right after the third of July and right before the fifth of July...

Believe it or not, even having lived in Amsterdam for two and a half years, this is my first time observing America's Independence Day abroad. So, today I got to thinking about what it means to be an American -- what part of me is tied up in my national identity? And I realize that I have an interesting point of observation, living in a different culture.

In Holland, the word "American" means big, loud, aggressive, self-centered, prone to vice. You see it everywhere. Walking through the grocery stores of Amsterdam, the word "American" is pasted onto products that are bigger, higher quantity, more sugary, more, more, more... American films are noted for their glitz, glamor, and gore; American companies are noted for their payroll, power, and plenty. Nederlanders (and Europeans in general) love to hate America, and hate to love America -- but really, it's not as simple as that... Sentiments toward America are varied and intermingled.

To be honest, I have often felt uncomfortable in my own skin, with my own accent, with my own lens on the world. I'm embarrassed with how well I can relate to the bumbling tourists who wander through Amsterdam in the spring and summer. I confess that I often cringe to hear of the latest developments in the War on Terror (which is widely disapproved in Europe). I may outwardly laugh at the grocery stores' "Sweet American Popcorn" (sickly sugary stuff that's obnoxious even to the American palate) or the "American Hotdogs" (exact same ingredients as the frankfurters on the shelf next to it, just larger and packaged with more hotdogs per package) -- but inwardly, I feel shame for the excess and opulance of America's projected lifestyle. I assume personal culpability for America's national shortcomings. I am, after all, American. No matter how well I acclimate to the culture, no matter how well I learn to speak the language, I will always be American. And at times, this has made me sad...

But over time, I've also learned to be proud of America. The pendulum has swung its course and is veering back toward center.

In spite of much negative sentiment and a default position of love-to-hate and hate-to-love, I've come to see that I love America, and even Europeans cannot escape some of the beauty and intrigue of my native land. America's political system (at least conceptually) is truly noble and admirable. Some of the world's most beautiful art, music, poetry, film, and story-telling comes from America. People from America are noted for their generosity and hospitality. Americans are optimists, idealists, and yet also problem-solvers... And for all the baggage that goes with it, I am American. My family is American. For better or worse, America is a part of our identity and our identity is a part of America.

So today we sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" for our children, loudly and proudly (multiple times, I might add, because they enjoyed it so much!). I know that my Dutch friends would have laughed to hear us, because they simply cannot understand such a sense of national pride and patriotism (not because their country is inferior, just that their cultural values are different)... But I didn't care. It's the Fourth of July, not just the fourth of July...