Proud to Be an American

Recently, I took a trip to New York City with my college choir group. We had the amazing opportunity to sing in Carnegie Hall on Memorial Day. Have you ever heard about the "Ghosts of Carnegie Hall"? I got to hear them. The most amazing part of the entire experience, though was seeing the pure bliss on my conductor's face as we sang his arrangement of America the Beautiful. He looked so happy. I was tearing up with the beauty and awe of singing the music we'd been practicing for 5 months in Carnegie hall; it sounded so different from our little choir room.
As a Music Major with an emphasis in Vocal Performance, I am still, even a week later, stunned by the fact that as a freshman, I sang in Carnegie. It seems like, not only a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but almost an impossible experience for someone as fresh as me. I want to go back.
Honestly, the entire trip humbled me. On the way to New York--a 32 hour bus-ride, I might add--the group stopped in Gettysburg, PA and toured the battlefield. Our phenomenal tour guide was a Civil War reenactor and knew so much he brought the battle to life. Once in New York we also toured the 911 Memorial Museum. Talk about humbling. I've grown up hearing about that tragic day, and I understood the terror and sorrow, but the intensity never hit me until I gazed on the pictures of the 3000 people killed that day. I saw the crushed firetrucks. I heard the stories. I saw the Last Column. Between the museum and Gettysburg, I experienced a lot of heavy emotions in two days.
Our country has experienced so much. Can you imagine, in the Civil War, brothers fighting? Fathers and sons? There was so much bloodshed, especially at the Battle of Gettysburg, the bloodiest battle of all. And the worst part is, we weren't fighting some distant enemy. America was fighting itself. And what about 911? So many people were lost that day, many were never found. Our country was cut to the core that day. And I feel so humble, and honestly slightly guilty for never fully grasping the gravity of it. I was only three then, and didn't understand, but I should have felt the heaviness more than I did as I grew up. But, now I do, and that's what matters. I have come to respect, even more so than I already did, my country and those who have fought for it. My country's history is no longer "fun" to learn about, it is necessary. I refuse to think about history as an interesting subject anymore, but, instead, as my heritage and a vital part of me.
"Oh beautiful for heroes proved in liberating strife
Who more than self their country loved and mercy more than life!"
The experiences in New York made these lyrics in America the Beautiful hit home harder than ever before as we sang in Carnegie Hall. I realized the full meaning of the words and I've never appreciated my country more.I am proud to be an American.