Never Losing Faith in America

My mother never lost faith in America. When she was pregnant with me, trying to decide whether or not the baby should be born in her homeland or her new world, the final decision was sealed because Bruce Springstein's "Born the USA" was still blaring throughout Baltimore in 1985.
Although she took me back to England where we both would have the support of her large and extended family, she never stopped believing that my home was destined to be the U.S.A. Our houses in England were decorated with American flags, we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and we were just about the only family who celebrated Independence day. Sometimes it was just a swift prayer for America in the evening, others, we'd celebrate with a day-vacation.
America was a land very close to my heart before I even knew what it was really like. Since moving to Los Angeles in July 2007, a year after my mother had passed away from her ongoing heart condition, my relationship with the States has been rocky, but never blemished with doubt. There are things that I hate, and so much that I love. Some days I am depressed with the huge problems that penetrate American political and social systems, and other days I am enthralled by Los Angeles and exhilerated by the vast opportunities in this country.
Tonight, I am proud to be an American. As Barack Obama takes the stage, I will be hoping, wishing and praying for America, as most of the nation and the world will be. As cynical as I am, I believe that things are about to take a huge turn in America. The 80,000 people at the Democratic National Convention also believe. The millions of Obama supports across the nation also believe. Because those of us who are proud to be Americans know that the great power held within this country is the power of the people. When the states unite, the force is unstoppable. It beat an English imperialist force in the 1700s, and it beat this English girl into submission before she even knew what hit her.

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