Surprising myself in Washington DC

If there is ever a time that I have to come up with a few adjectives to describe myself, patriotic is not one that comes to my lips right away.  It's not that I'm anti-American at all.  It's just that in my travels around this lovely planet I have at times felt a little sheepish about how others perceive us.  This feeling probably peaked back in the nineties when I was living and working as a teacher on the small Caribbean island of Antigua.  The experience most Antiguans had with Americans was when scantily clad tourists right of the cruise ships would rush by in taxi's, video cameras panning the countryside from open windows.  Anyway- back to our trip to the Capitol.  As we toured around at all of the sites I found myself getting teary with some frequency.  It happened when we were hearing about the incredible valor and bravery of those first rebels, when we toured the vast library of congress, when we watched old video footage of the astronauts stepping out onto the moon, when we gazed up at Abe Lincoln.  But the experience that moved me most was while we were standing in line on the bottom floor of the white house, waiting in the endless stream of visitors to weave our way up the steps and get a glance at just a corner of the famous estate.  As we waited in the line we moved past photo displays of life in the white house over the years.  Every large frame had pictures from different eras- and I was incredibly moved by the sight of Michelle Obama and her family looking out from the sea of otherwise white faces.  It struck me again what an amazing thing our country did back in 2008.  We elected a man because of his qualifications and talents and charisma and smarts, and didn't let the color of his skin trip us up.  If I could sum up the essence of DC that touched me it was just the outstanding evidence of bravery everywhere you looked.  It re-warmed my heart toward this old country of mine.