I was reading a couple articles today about September 11th. It just made me kind of sad to think about it…

Do you remember the “Where’s Waldo” books? Most of the pages were relatively easy to find Waldo but that last page was always a pain in the butt. Why? Because the last page was full of a whole bunch of other people dressed like Waldo. Just as it is easier to see where Waldo is when he is not surrounded by other Waldos, I feel like I can better see what it means to be American when I contrast myself and what I know with my European experience. I have found many things from observation, reading, and conversation. I suppose I could write about all of it: the things I love about Europe; what I wish could be different in America; what I wish was different in Europe, but I feel like it all comes down to one statement:

I am proud and thankful to be American; we really are blessed to live in such a great country.