It is so very hard to explain the love affair I have with my country and the global alliance of free nations that I have grown to respect and love. But let me try — possibly a chronological approach.
It started early for me as I was living in a Polish ghetto near Chicago with my immigrant grandmother. Mom and Dad worked in steel mills supplying the war effort. Almost daily my grandmother would read to me from her Polish daily newspaper of the war in Europe — many of my uncles were there — my godfather uncle Andy would hit Omaha Beach on the first day. My grandmother with her broken English always shared such readings with such passion.
Walks with her through our neighborhood emphasized this passion for my America as she explained the meaning of the gold stars that adorned some of the neighbors’ front windows.
At war’s end, the jubilation was breathtaking. The young men and women in uniform, me being raised onto the shoulders of uniformed relatives as they danced in the streets, the tintinnabulation of the forever ringing church bells.
It was a party going on throughout my America, city after city, street after street — a party that did not know how to stop.
In later years, still a child, I stood with all of my classmates in long lines as we were individually tattooed on the side of our torsos with our blood types. We were being reminded that an enemy of the free world still existed and in the event of a cataclysmic war, total vigilance was essential. The sporadic bomb shelters being built in the backyards of neighbors emphasized the threat.
As a young man, there was my duty tour and then four years in the ready reserves.
And at that time, the chilling phone call. “Be prepared to get immediately to your naval duty station.” We all understood if the Soviet ships couldn’t be stopped, world crises would be unavoidable.
Soon afterward, in Berlin’s Rudolph Wilde Platz on June 26, 1963, a young American president defiantly proclaimed “Ich Bin Ein Berkiner” to a crowd of over 1 million Germans. The free world wept with the joy of comradeship. It wept again when a second president, Ronald Reagan, declared to Russian leadership “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.”
In later years I traveled with a close friend throughout Europe. WWII had ended over 20 years earlier, yet, everywhere I went I was often greeted with a smile and “Hi there, Yank.” In Paris, an old vet would not hear that I had someplace to go. We sat in a café on the Avenue des Champs Elysees until I could drink no more. In Pamplona running before the bulls was thrilling and the bull fights were captivating, but again were the precious moments with the old vets in the small cafes on winding streets and Vino de la casa.
In my lifetime I have known so many friends who have given their full measure, including comrades from my own battalion. I have also had the honor of knowing those who served and with God’s grace returned. Like many of you I often get a little choked up with the singing of the national anthem on the Fourth of July and other such events.
I guess I am in love with this great country, not only for what it is, but for its unending generosity and friendship with the citizens of the world struggling to be fed and to be free.
God please help us protect this heritage and never become less than John Kennedy’s vision of that “City Upon a Hill.”
Raymond Golarz has authored or co-authored 12 books. He has keynoted criminal justice or education conferences throughout the United States and Canada. His website is RayGolarz.com. He resides in Bloomington.
This article originally appeared on The Herald-Times: May the United States remain a beacon of light for all her citizens | OPINION
Reporting by Ray Golarz / The Herald-Times
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